He was a boy of unique appearance—the Hero.
Grigor smiled like a proud father, intrigued by the outworlder’s countenance.
The Hero didn’t walk with a unique gait; he was shouldered, firm, one foot followed the other with no hesitation. No fear.
His hair was like a mane, the one stolen from panthers, cursing them to be bare.
Dark and long, it cascaded like a midnight waterfall, shrouding most of his head and his neck, only revealing the piercing blue of his eyes and the coldness of his lips.
He was tall. Tall like a Knight, but built with the lean strength of a Swordsman.
Grigor was intrigued. Even more than others.
"Is that him?" a younger, driven voice asked.
Clad in an armor of silver and gold, one of the powerful Awakeners standing in the gallery—a tall handsome boy with golden hair—fixed a stern gaze on the Hero.
He was Prince Aethelstan, a Lvl. 99 Knight who had awakened three years prior and was already known across kingdoms.
"That is him, Aethelstan," King Alfred, his father, replied. "That is the cursed Hero."
Aethelstan’s glare turned direct, his eyes—a lighter shade of blue—narrowed at the sight of the Hero.
Down below, the murmurs were like rain.
"That’s him?"
"That’s the Hero?"
"He looks ordinary enough."
"Yet he refused to accept his duty. "
Percival ignored them. He was too far to catch their words clearly anyway. The Altar was his focus now.
He didn’t know for certain if he would awaken. But he was sure of one thing: he would not awaken the Swordsman Class.
He couldn’t.
And that was not a speculation.
He had already awakened it in the past timeline... and somehow, he still had it with him.
Percival had regressed with his Swordsman Class, with all his Skills, and his max level of 150.
On the day he was supposed to awaken in the eyes of everyone, he already was a Lvl. 150 Swordsman.
Percival came to this discovery the very moment he appeared in the king’s courtroom.
He could feel the Skills within him, he could feel mana pumping through his channels and beating in his core.
If that wasn’t enough conviction, his Swordsman status screen had appeared to him; the crest of two crossed swords, floating above a notification that welcomed him back to Evernia.
Everything was intact. Except Items such as weapons, armors, accessories and Relics.
He’d have to reclaim those by clearing Gate Worlds yet again. Though, Percival reckoned it would be far easier now, as a Lvl 150 Awakener.
It was this silent assurance, not merely his anger, that allowed him to stand before King Alfred and reject everything he offered.
It was also the reason why he wasn’t very troubled by the prospect of being hated or attacked. He was already stronger than many, just bare.
He needed armor. He needed weapons.
But there was something else he needed to understand. An idea that pierced his mind when he walked down the township streets of Metrodorian.
Well at first, it was a question:
If Percival already possessed a Class from the past timeline, did that mean he had not awakened in this one?
Could he awaken yet again?
Would he be granted another Class?
It was a shot in the dark, but he knew he had to try it. There really were no downsides.
He could continue on with his already maxed-out Swordsman Class, or he could awaken another.
Percival wasn’t unfamiliar with double awakenings.
So he was here.
He stepped onto the Altar, the huge golden hands enclosing his sides.
The speaker gave him a troubled gaze as he waited. The whispers died off, and a hush descended. Now, everyone was waiting.
Percival stood there, uncertain, his gaze laid upon the hundreds of young spectators before him.
It was then that he realized how necessary it was for him to awaken.
Only Awakeners had access to certain things, such as Gate Worlds, the dungeons that held the loot he needed.
He was already awakened, but no one knew that.
The importance struck him harshly. He had to awaken again.
Thankfully, he did.
It took no time. Only a heartbeat.
Then the light.
It was strong and blue, like an explosion of a nonphysical energy, rippling and violent as a crashing wave.
The air cracked, a gust of dark bluish force surged outward, overwhelming everyone as they shielded their faces in fear.
The speaker’s eyes widened. Ulcraft gripped the gallery railing and leaned forward in awe. King Alfred’s gaze darkened.
"What sort of display is this?"
The Chief Diviner stared as if beholding the gods themselves. "This... I have seen this once before. His Class will be one of unimaginable power."
The nobles looked at him, then back at the Altar.
The light expanded, but not long after, shrank inward, condensing into the etchings beneath Percival’s feet.
And then his crest rose.
It was a blue skull with a head of fire.
The crowd froze, staring at the ominous emblem.
"What kind of crest is that?"
"I’ve never seen that before."
"Is it a new Class?"
The speaker stepped back, voice trembling. The message of the gods had been relayed to him, but he was not above confusion. "I... I have not heard of this Class before."
He looked back, toward the gallery, as if seeking permission to speak further. When nothing was said, he faced the crowd again.
"The Outworlder has awakened the Class of Necromancer! His Talent is ranked... Mythic!"
The entire hall erupted.
"Mythic? Did I just hear that right?"
"No human has ever awakened a Mythic Rank Talent."
"What in the name of the gods is even a Necromancer?"
"Is it... evil? That flaming skull is quite terrifying."
The King’s face hardened. Aethelstan’s handsome jaw clenched.
Ulcraft’s lips curved into an almost joyous thing. "Mythic," he whispered. "By the gods, Mythic? We must bring him to our side. At once."
Grigor placed a hand on his chin. "A Mythic rank," he murmured. "I thought the gods stopped granting those. How curious..."
The Chief Diviner was the most astonished of all.
He had not heard of that Class, not in many years.
In fact, he had only read of it in books. Books that narrated the past centuries. It meant this Class was ancient, and it was powerful.
Percival couldn’t deny his own surprise.
Showing it, however, was another matter. His expression was reserved, but his mind scrambled with many thoughts.
He had played enough games and read enough books in his former world to know what a Necromancer was.
But even he had not expected this. He had not expected the Mythic Rank either.
He looked at the Necromancer Status Screen that appeared before him; it was deep-blue colored with the flaming skull crest above.
It congratulated him for awakening.
Percival wanted to wonder if he had lost his Swordsman Class by gaining this one, but the familiar status screen appeared right below the Necromancer’s.
It was silver-colored, with the crest of two crossed swords above it, and it congratulated him on a second awakening.
Percival had achieved something remarkable.
He was a Dual Class Awakener.