Dimension Beta

Everyone left the room in silence, the weight of the conversation still lingering heavily in the air. For Tom, the impending war wasn't as terrifying as it might have been. As a player, death meant only the loss of one level and a 12 hour respawn timer in the nearest town. With a few hours of effort, he could recover from any setback.

But for Pablo and the others…death meant permanence. There would be no respawn, no second chance. They would be gone forever. What can I do? Tom wondered, the question gnawing at his mind. In just a few days, Pablo, Dickson, Casper, Smork and even Pech, that swindling rogue had earned a place in his heart. All of them had helped him in one way or another.

The question now was, how could he help them?

The rest of the evening unfolded differently than usual. The tension surrounding Pablo was palpable, and the two barely exchanged words. When it was time for Tom to leave, he made sure to say goodbye, but Pablo only gave him a slight nod. Even that small gesture spoke volumes about the turmoil Pablo was grappling with. Forgotten emotions, long buried, were resurfacing, and even at his age, Pablo struggled to confront them.

Another sleepless night followed. Tom's mind raced with thoughts of what he could possibly do to help. By morning, he was still without an answer.

That day, Tom didn't rush his morning routine. His class was meeting at the market square in the city later, so there was no need to hurry. One advantage of Beta's mechanics was the alignment of spawn locations with real-world geography. Because of this, nearly everyone in his class had spawned in the same city.

Tom entered his capsule and reappeared in Beta, right in front of the tavern where he had logged out the previous night. Casting one last glance toward the tavern, he began walking toward the square.

Despite the early hour, the streets were already bustling with activity. As Tom neared the marketplace, he spotted some of his classmates heading in the same direction. When he arrived at the square, the entire class of 25 students was gathered in one spot, buzzing with anticipation. Everyone was eager to see what their teacher looked like in-game. All they knew from his lessons was that he belonged to a melee class.

A man in a simple robe carrying a katana approached the group. His face was immediately recognizable as their teacher's. Even Tom was taken aback by the imposing sword hanging at his hip.

"It seems everyone's here," Mr. Bunwald said after a quick headcount. "Follow me."

He led the students to a training ground resembling a medieval arena. "Alright, students," he announced. "Please divide into two groups: those who have already chosen a class on the right, and those who haven't on the left."

The class split into nearly equal groups. Eleven students had already chosen their class, while fourteen had not. Tom naturally joined the first group.

Felix nudged him. "Bro, you didn't tell me you'd already picked your class! So, what is it?"

Tom grinned. "You'll see later."

Felix smirked. "Alright then, keep your secrets."

Mr. Bunwald addressed the group again. "Those of you without a class should pay close attention today. This exercise will show the advantages and disadvantages of being a melee fighter, ranged attacker, mage, and so on." He turned to two girls in the group. "Lilly and Lena, since you both have support classes, you can choose a partner to team up with."

He then looked at Felix. "Felix, you're also technically a support class, but you'll have to face me alone."

The students murmured among themselves as Mr. Bunwald confirmed their suspicions. "You heard correctly. Each of you will fight me one-on-one. Don't worry; I'll mostly dodge and parry your attacks." He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Mostly."

Several students gulped nervously at the idea of facing their fearsome teacher. The two supporters chose their partners, and everyone else prepared for their turn. Those not currently fighting stood outside the arena, watching closely.

"Felix, you're up first," Mr. Bunwald announced.

"Lucky me," Felix muttered, trying to mask his nerves. It didn't work.

"Before you attack, tell your classmates your level, class, and strengths," the teacher instructed.

"Of course," Felix replied. "I'm level 27, a Banner Knight. My strengths are power-leveling and boosting my allies through banner buffs."

"Very good," Mr. Bunwald said. "Now, attack me."

Both knew that Banner Knights weren't meant for direct combat, but that didn't mean they were defenseless. Felix planted his banner in the ground before sprinting toward his teacher, drawing a short sword as he closed the distance. His attacks were unpolished but relentless, yet Mr. Bunwald parried each strike with ease.

Occasionally, the teacher struck back with the flat of his blade or his scabbard, hitting Felix in various places. The blows barely fazed Felix. After all, the primary stat of a Banner Knight was vitality. Banner Knights could later share their HP with their banner, making them nearly unkillable. Not invulnerable, but close enough.

"That's enough," Mr. Bunwald declared, pushing Felix back.

"As you can see," he said to the class, "Banner Knights aren't particularly strong in combat. However, they're incredibly durable and can take a lot of punishment. Later, you can earn good money power-leveling other players by tanking large groups of monsters while they do the killing. You can find more information online. Next!"

Felix joined Tom outside the arena. "Not bad. You held your ground," Tom said.

Felix shook his arms, which were starting to go numb. "Our teacher is a monster," he muttered. "He didn't hold back at all when parrying my attacks."

Tom chuckled at his friend's complaint.

One by one, the other students fought Mr. Bunwald. Archers, swordsmen, healers… Tom saw it all that day.

Finally, Mr. Bunwald called out, "Next up is Tom Stein."

Tom stepped forward, his classmates murmuring in surprise. Even Mr. Bunwald seemed intrigued. "I have to say, Tom, I didn't expect you to have already chosen a class."

Tom laughed nervously, scratching his neck. "It all happened so fast, I forgot to tell you. Sorry, Mr. Bunwald."

"Hmmm," the teacher mused. "Tell me and your classmates what class you picked."

"Uh, well, I'm a Brawler, level 20, and… honestly, I don't know what I'm particularly good at besides close combat."

Some of his classmates burst into laughter. "What? You picked a class without even knowing what it's good at? What an idiot!" one boy shouted, and others joined in.

Mr. Bunwald's expression darkened. "Not bad," he said suddenly.

The laughter died instantly. The class stared at their teacher in disbelief.

"For those of you laughing," he said coldly, "Brawler is an uncommon class. It's a strong melee class specializing in killing boss monsters and one-on-one combat."

Even Tom was surprised. "A boss killer?" he thought.

Mr. Bunwald continued. "And the fact that you're already level 20 shows you've gained some experience in combat."

This wasn't surprising. Tom had the second-highest level in the class, behind Felix. However, one student scoffed, "He was probably power-leveled by Felix's parents!"

"Exactly!" others chimed in.

"If you don't know what you're talking about, keep quiet!" Mr. Bunwald snapped.

Pointing to Tom's gear, he added, "His equipment is made entirely of pelts and furs from monsters in this region. If I'm not mistaken, you've learned skinning and gathered the materials yourself, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have," Tom replied.

"And that hood on your back… put it on."

Tom hesitated but complied, though it embarrassed him. The students who had laughed earlier prepared to mock him again until Tom shot them a glare. A chill ran down their spines as if they were staring into the eyes of a beast. The room fell silent.

"Not bad," Mr. Bunwald said. "Now, show everyone what your class can do."

Tom wasted no time, charging straight at his teacher. He launched a flurry of punches and kicks, but Mr. Bunwald deflected every attack with the flat of his blade and scabbard. Yet, Tom grew faster with each strike.

"Impressive, boy. It seems you've already unlocked your main skill," the teacher remarked.

The fight continued for another minute before Mr. Bunwald called it off. "That's enough."

He stepped back, evaluating Tom. "Not bad for a first attempt, but you need to learn how to use your surroundings. Without a primary weapon, you'll have to get creative. Against a swordsman, you're at a disadvantage unless you can avoid every strike."

He addressed the class one last time. "Alright, everyone. That's it for today. Make sure to think carefully before choosing your class."

Then he turned to Tom. "Stay behind, please."

"Again?" Tom groaned internally.

As everyone left, only Tom and Mr. Bunwald remained behind.

"Don't worry, I just have a tip for you," Mr. Bunwald said once they were alone.

"A tip?" Tom asked, intrigued.

"How have you been distributing your stat points so far?" Mr. Bunwald asked.

"Two in Vitality and Strength for every one point in Agility," Tom replied.

"Just as I thought," Mr. Bunwald said, nodding. "Since you've distributed your points like this, you should consider following the boss-killer path. More Agility would have been necessary for a duelist build. While you can still switch if you really want to, focusing on being a boss-killer is a great way to earn good money."

"How do you know all this?" Tom asked, his curiosity piqued.

"My class is Samurai," Mr. Bunwald explained. "I specialize in boss-killing as well and currently work for an agency. My situation is a bit unique, so I can't go into too much detail."

He paused, then added, "However, if you're serious about pursuing the boss-killer route, I might be able to recommend you to my agency in the future."

"Really?!" Tom asked, his excitement obvious.

"Yes," Mr. Bunwald confirmed with a slight smile. "But that's only if you continue to prove yourself. Your first milestone should be reaching Level 100. Once you do that, we can discuss it further."

"Keep me updated," Mr. Bunwald said as he turned to leave the arena.

Level 100… Tom thought to himself.