Everyone nodded in understanding before breaking off into groups. Some went to grind for more levels, pushing to get stronger. Others stayed behind, trying to calm their nerves and rest. Logan and Mitch chose sleep, knowing they'd be up late and fighting come morning. Nicole crossed over to Giselle, likely to discuss contingencies and how to handle Nadia.
I appreciate Nicole's caution, and I'm glad I can depend on her.
Off to the side, Lian and Wei Shen were locked in a heated argument, hands cutting the air, shoulders squared. I turned away without a word, walking off. Not my problem.
I look around, searching for Sol since I haven't seen him in the meeting. I spot him with Karen, both standing in a corner, practicing knife techniques. Sol takes the knife, demonstrating the grip, then shows her how to bring someone down fast and clean. I nod in approval and leave them to their practice. I am glad that Sol is getting along with someone close to his age and not a part of our family.
I decided to check my status window again since I had nothing better to do. I should probably check the mission tab again. I only glanced at it back when Viktor first showed me. Honestly, I forgot all about the missions. I was focused on surviving, and since they were all about beating the dungeon, I never really paid them much attention.
Status Window
Name: Jasmine West
Level: 8 (0/12800)
Alignment: Neutral
Class: None
Title(s): Medusa
Health: 250/200
Stamina: 250/200
Mana: 130/130
MP Regen: +1 MP every 30 seconds
Strength: 20
Dexterity: 20
Constitution: 25
Intelligence: 12
Perception: 20
Luck: 6
Charisma: 7
Willpower: 15
Instinct: 8
Wisdom: 1
Free Attribute Points: 15
Skill Points: 5
My level didn't change since Nicole and I didn't have to fight anyone on our little trip to the coffee shop. Should I add more points to my stats? We have a big battle coming up, and I don't know what needs adding. I wish I knew the stats of the shaman or the warlord who killed Marco. Maybe I should ask Victor for his opinion.
I looked around for him and found him at the beginner's store.
"Hey Viktor, I need your help."
Viktor's eyes were glazed over before focusing. He turned to me with a confused expression on his face.
"What can I do for you, O' Great Leader? Do you need something from this lowly peasant?" Viktor said, trying to look meek.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked, confused.
"You put me with Mitch and forgot all about me. I thought we would fight side by side like the old days, but you threw me away for that whore!" Viktor shouted, then turned away, faking crying.
A few people looked over, Nicole included, looking confused, and I had to turn away to hide from the embarrassment.
"Would you shut up?" I say through gritted teeth, and I kick him in the ass, making him yelp. "Abuse! Mistress, mercy!"
"Can you be serious? I really need your advice. It's about my stats." I said, looking down at him coldly. He immediately hops up in excitement.
"What do you need? I saw that you are level 8. What do your stats look like? Let me see! Let me see!" he said in a pleading voice.
I shook my head at his overdramatic antics and flashed my status window. His eyes narrowed as he scanned it, face tightening into something serious before he gave a firm nod.
Viktor leaned over the glowing status screen, eyes dancing like a kid in an arcade. "Well, look at you. Constitution stacked like a brick wall, decent Strength, solid Dex. Medusa, you're built like a Tank."
I raised an eyebrow. "Tank?"
He grinned, already warming to the explanation. "Alright, lesson time. Classic party roles. First up—the Tank. Big defense, big health. Their whole job is to stand in front and soak the hits so the rest of us don't get splattered. Knights, Paladins, Crusaders, those types. Basically, the armor of the group." He gave me a knowing look. "Sounds familiar, yeah?"
I didn't answer, so he kept going, clearly enjoying himself. "Then there's the Healer. Priests, monks, acolytes. They keep the Tank alive and fix up all the dumb mistakes the Damage Dealers make."
"Damage Dealers?" I asked, half amused.
"Yeah," he said, wagging a finger. "That's the flashy role. Assassins, mages, archers. All about putting out as much hurt as possible, as fast as possible. Win the fight before the enemy can fight back. And then you've got the Supporters—bards, hunters, thieves. They're the tricksters. Buffs, debuffs, poison, illusions. Not always pretty, but they make the team stronger."
He sat back, satisfied, like he'd just delivered some grand revelation. "That's the holy trinity, plus a little spice. Tank, Healer, Support, Damage Dealer. Every system I've ever seen plays with that balance."
I tilted my head at him. "Alright, smartass. What about you? What kind of class are you aiming for?"
Viktor's grin softened into something almost feral. "Berserker. No question."
"Figures," I said.
He chuckled, but there was weight behind it. "Yeah. It fits. I spent years as a merc in constant fights, always bloody and never clean. And I learned something out there: I fight better angry. Rage sharpens me, keeps me going when sane men drop. Berserker's the only class that makes sense. High Strength, high Constitution, enough Stamina to swing until my arms give out. No shields, no subtlety—just raw power. That's me."
I studied him for a moment, then asked, "And what about me? If I wanted to be a Damage Dealer with some magic mixed in, how should I spread my stats?"
"Let me see your skills so I can have a better idea of what you are working with," Viktor said, and I pulled up my skills list.