After settling on one of the stools at the bar counter, One-Eyed George's scarred face twisted in slight concern as he studied Lennox.
"You sure you're okay, boy?"
Lennox forced a grin, waving a dismissive hand. "Yeah. Just tired."
George eyed him for a moment longer, then gave a slow nod. "Well, don't overwork yourself."
"I'll keep that in mind," Lennox said, grateful the old adventurer didn't push further. He didn't want anyone knowing he had captured two dangerous individuals—especially before Garrick returned.
Keeping his expression neutral, he leaned forward. "Same as usual?"
George smirked. "Four mugs of Emberbrew's Ale."
Lennox got to work, pouring the drink while George settled in, placing his heavy sack, bow, and quiver against the counter.
Moments later, just as George lifted his first mug and took a long, satisfied sip, the tavern door swung open again.
Lennox turned his head, and more of the tension he had been holding in his chest eased slightly.
It was Derrin Locke.
The older man moved with the quiet air of someone who had seen more roads than most men could count. His graying hair and weathered features spoke of experience, and his presence always carried a subtle weight—a man who knew much but spoke little.
Derrin, as always, was about to take a seat at one of the tables by the wall, but Lennox raised a hand.
"Derrin! Sit at the counter today," Lennox called, offering a small grin. "First drink's on me."
The older man blinked in mild surprise before nodding. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he approached, settling onto the stool beside George.
The two men exchanged silent nods—an acknowledgment between seasoned wanderers—before Derrin turned his gaze to Lennox.
"I won't say no to a free drink," he said, his voice deep and measured.
Lennox chuckled and quickly poured a mug of Emberbrew Ale, sliding it over.
For a few moments, a comfortable silence stretched between them.
The tavern, though relatively quiet, now felt more grounded—the usual rhythm of its patrons taking shape once more.
Then—Lennox saw his chance.
"Actually," he began, resting his arms on the counter. "There's something I've been meaning to ask."
George took another sip of his ale, while Derrin merely waited.
Lennox continued, "I've read a lot about warriors, mages, clerics, archers, and rogues… but there's something I still don't quite understand."
George raised a brow. "Oh?"
Lennox nodded. "How do people get their classes?"
George let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly before turning to Derrin.
"Well, if there's anyone here who can answer that properly, it's you, old man," he said, taking another sip of his ale. "I'd just end up explaining it the way an adventurer sees things—quick and simple."
Derrin exhaled slowly, setting his mug down with deliberate care. His sharp gaze settled on Lennox, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Tell me, boy," the older man said. "Do you understand the difference between Rank Zero and Rank One beings?"
Lennox straightened slightly, his mind quickly recalling what he had learned.
"Yes," he said confidently. "Rank Zeros—also called apprentices—are those who are still polishing their foundations. They train their bodies, refine their strength, and prepare for the next step. They're stronger than ordinary men but haven't yet awakened true power."
Derrin gave a slight nod, waiting for him to continue.
"Rank Ones," Lennox went on, "have already gone through a complete metamorphosis. They've awakened either chi or mana, and that puts them in an entirely different league. Their bodies aren't just trained anymore—they're fundamentally changed, enhanced by the energy flowing through them."
A small smile crossed Derrin's lips as he leaned back slightly.
"Not bad," the older man mused. "You've done your reading."
Lennox grinned but remained focused.
Derrin took a moment before continuing.
"And that," he said, "is exactly where classes come into play."
Lennox frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
Derrin tapped a finger against his mug, his expression thoughtful.
"The nature of the energy a person awakens determines their class," he explained. "That's the foundation of everything."
Lennox leaned in, intrigued.
Derrin held up a hand, slowly listing them off.
"A warrior awakens Battle Chi—an energy that fortifies their body, strengthens their strikes, and allows them to perform superhuman feats of combat. They fight up close, relying on raw power, endurance, and skill to dominate their enemies."
"A mage awakens Mana—the raw essence of magic itself. With it, they manipulate the elements, bend reality, and cast powerful spells. Mages channel their power through their mind, focusing on intellect and control rather than brute force."
"A rogue—or assassin—awakens Shadow Chi. This energy enhances speed, stealth, and precision. They rely on agility and cunning, striking from the darkness, using deception and swift, deadly attacks to take down their targets."
"An archer awakens Phantom Chi, a refined form of Battle Chi that heightens their senses, sharpens their aim, and enhances their dexterity. It allows them to strike from a distance with uncanny accuracy, making them deadly snipers on the battlefield."
"And finally," Derrin said, his voice taking on a slightly reverent tone, "a cleric—or priest—awakens Divine Grace. This power isn't drawn from within but channeled from higher beings. It allows them to heal wounds, purify corruption, and, in rare cases, call upon divine miracles."
Lennox took it all in, his mind whirring as the pieces fell into place.
"So…" he murmured, "you don't choose your class?"
Derrin shook his head. "No. You don't just wake up and decide to be a mage or a warrior. When you reach the threshold of Rank One, your soul resonates with a specific energy, and that determines your path. It's not about choice—it's about what your body and spirit are naturally attuned to."
Lennox's brows furrowed. That meant one's class was essentially predetermined, something deep inside them waiting to be awakened.
George let out a low chuckle. "There are some who try to force it," he said, swirling his drink. "Fools who train as warriors but end up awakening mana instead. Doesn't matter how much you swing a sword—if you were meant to be a mage, that's what you'll become."