Millie's dad walked through the door covered in blood.

  "Rough day, honey?" her mother, Arla, asked. She looked up from the book she was reading and scrunched her nose.

  He shrugged and sighed. "It wasn't that bad. Same old, same old." First, he unequipped the shield he wore on his back, and placed it in the storage case by the front door. Then he did the same with his sword, the oddly named [Big Stick], even though it in no way resembled a stick. A light inside the case illuminated the pair, displaying their ornate decorations on full display.

  He took off his armor and didn't even bother to put it on the display mannequin. Blood slid in rivulets down the metal and onto the floor.

  "Sorry," her father, Luc, said and cringed. "I'll get that cleaned up as soon as I get a bite to eat and sit down for a few minutes. I haven't had a good rest all day.

  "Are you serious, Luc?" her mom asked.

  "Yes," he said. "I'll get to the blood in a few minutes."

  "No, I don't care about the blood. You haven't had a rest today? Not even in a safe room?"

  Luc shook his head. "No, the dungeon didn't have one. First one in a while that didn't, too." He exhaled heavily and cracked his neck. "It was not my favorite."

  Millie's mom set her book down, walked behind her husband, and started to rub his shoulders. He leaned into it, and the look on his face indicated that he was enjoying it. "I know how hard it is to delve a whole dungeon without refreshing," she said.

  "At least I don't have to worry about MP like you do. I'd be as dead as all the goblins and kobolds in there." He winced as Arla pressed harder into his muscles. "I had to heal myself as much or more than the [Cleric] did."

  With the mention of something dying, Millie was unable to restrain herself anymore. "What did you do with the bodies?" She meant the kobolds and goblins he just mentioned.

  "Like I tell you every night, sweetheart, we left them for the dungeon cleaning crew. They have to eat, too." He was referring to the friendly slimes and oozes that swept through dungeons after the adventurers left each day, removing monster corpses and anything else left behind. Dungeons that weren't instanced but locked to a single party had a maintenance period where things like that could happen without people getting in the way.

  "Awww," Millie said. She crinkled her brow. "Even the skeletons?"

  "Yes, Millie, even the skeletons."

  She and her dad went through this every night. She just couldn't understand why all of the dead monsters had to stay dead. There was so much magic in the world, and even if the gods or the System wouldn't let them be resurrected like some adventurers could be, that still left [Necromancers] who could bring them back them as pets—and friends.

  A common excuse her dad gave was that bringing home an army of the reanimated dead was a mess and would get blood and gore everywhere in the house. Millie looked at the pooling blood under his armor and knew what a crock that was.

  She crossed her arms and scrunched her nose. "You could at least reanimate the skeletons. You wouldn't have to use the whole body! A bunch of skeletons wouldn't be nearly as messy as you are!" She pointed at his bloody armor.

  "Even if that were the case," Arla chimed in as she stopped rubbing Luc's shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of his head, "your father doesn't adventure with [Necromancers]. So it's just not possible. He won't ever have any way to do it."

  "But he could!" she countered. "He just doesn't want to!"

  They both shook their heads. "It's just not realistic. Your father has met a lot of them. You know how picky he is with party members he takes in dungeons. He literally has to trust them with his life."

  "[Necromancers] care about life!" Millie countered.

  "[Necromancers] care about death. There's a difference. You don't want that for your dad do you?" She kissed Luc on top of the head and walked back over to her chair. She pointedly opened up her book, and without looking at Millie, said, "You can't be a [Necromancer] and be a good person."

  "That's right, sweetie," her dad said. "I've vetted a lot of party members, and I have never once spoken to a [Necromancer] that met my standards. I just..." He looked between Millie and Arla. "I just don't think you can trust them. Like your mother said, you can't be a [Necromancer] and be a good person."

  "You're wrong," Millie said. "I'll be a necromancer and be a good person. You'll see."

  Ten Years Later

  Millie stood in line, along with everyone else who had a birthday this season, waiting for her turn as impatiently as any person had ever waited before on Class Day.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  She bounced from one foot to the other, nervous energy making her feel like she was about to explode. She kept looking back at her parents in the crowd, and they kept gesturing for her to stay calm and to face forward.

  She did the best she could at it, but she could barely contain herself. She was just so excited to become a [Necromancer].

  She was near the end of the line, with dozens and dozens of people ahead of her. Everyone in line was about to be assigned their very first class by the System. None of them knew what it was going to be, but every single one of them hoped for something in particular.

  Unlike the others, she knew that she was going to be turned into a [Necromancer] today.

  Well, she didn't technically know that she was going to be granted a [Necromancer] class, but she just had to be. She had never wanted anything else. The gods knew she wanted to be a [Necromancer] more than anything else in the entire world. She'd prayed and told them enough times. Every day since she was a small child.

  People always told her that life as [Necromancer] wasn't what she expected it to be. According to the adults in her life, "No one wants to be a [Necromancer], and no one wants to group with them, either."

  Supposedly, [Necromancers] were lonely outcasts. Millie just didn't see it. They had the ability to always have a friend around to talk to, adventure with, or just hang out in silence. No matter what. That didn't sound lonely at all.

  She'd show them.

  Classes were just part of the system that underpinned all their lives. Most of the classes that people were assigned weren't as exotic as the [Necromancer] one that Millie wanted, and most of them weren't suited for dungeon delving like both of her parents' classes ended up being.

  There were three ways this could go for Millie.

  The first, and one she was hoping beyond hope for, was that she walk up the stairs to the Adventurer's Guild, touch the class stone in Guildmaster Arren's hands, and gain the [Necromancer] class, and she would be in a dungeon raising the dead before the sun went down.

  The second, and far more likely option, was that she only got assigned a class that was tangentially related to the [Necromancer] class and she would have to level up and refine her class later. She might get something generic like [Sorcerer] and then have to work for years until she could eventually have the [Necromancer] class appear as she advanced tiers.

  The third and most dreadful option was that she get absolutely nothing related to [Necromancer] at all, and her entire life would be spent as a [Tailor] or [Vegetable Farmer] that she cared literally nothing about. It was technically possible to eventually branch your way into a seemingly unrelated class. But that could take a lifetime. A lifetime that Millie had plans for.

  Guildmaster Arren's amplified voice broke her train of thought. "Congratulations, Lorey!" he said, his raspy voice carrying across the crowd because of his own class magic. "The gods have chosen to bless you with the [Runecrafter] class!"

  A cheer rose from the gathered crowd, and it was well-deserved. Millie joined in and whooped for Lorey. She had wanted to be a tradesperson, and [Runecrafter] was far more than anyone could have hoped. That was an epic-level [Enchanter] class. Millie wasn't totally sure, but she thought it was a hybrid class, too—one that could delve into dungeons and produce sellable wares. Plus, starting out with an epic class was almost unheard of. Lorey was set for life. At 18. Good for her.

  The next three boys all got basic, common classes. As most people did. One was given [Lumberjack], one [Calligrapher], and the other [Scout]. Not bad. Not great.

  Classes came in different rarities, too. Some were common like the three classes the boys got, while others were uncommon, rare, or even epic-level. Technically there were legendary and celestial-rank classes, too, but those were only spoken of in stories. In legends and myth. Hence the name.

  [Necromancer] was only uncommon, so there was still a good chance she would get what she wanted. Or at least, that's what she told herself.

  Finally, it was Millie's turn. "Mildred Jayne Coreia," announced Guildmaster Arren. She looked back at her parents who waved her forward. "Please come up the stairs, Mildred, and place your hand on the class stone."

  The stone in the guildmaster's hand was about the size of her head. From a distance, it looked like a regular stone carved with twelve flat sides, made out of obsidian or something similar. Up close, though, Millie could see that it wasn't opaque at all. Behind each facet was a starfield, slowly rotating in three dimensions, like they were inside the stone.

  How had no one ever talked about that before? It was beautiful. Millie took a deep breath and held her hand out, palm down, a few inches above the top facet of the dodecahedron.

  She didn't lower it. Her hand started shaking.

  "It's safe, dear," said Guildmaster Arren. "No harm will come to you. Only the blessings of the gods." Blessings. She swallowed and took another deep breath. Right. Blessings. This is what she'd been looking forward to, this is what she had been praying for, and this was where her life truly began.

  She lowered her palm, feeling the magic course through her. The starfields behind the facets spun faster as she watched, each swirling with a different color deep within. The effect was faint, like seeing oil on the surface of a distant lake.

  Finally, the glow within the stone settled on a white light, but with a black core. Like a fire where the hottest part burned black and the white faded into the universe and then into nothing. The odd sight then ran along the edges of the stone's faces, and covered her hand like a glove. The black light that somehow glowed grew stronger, and a rush of power surged through Millie's body. She gasped, as she felt the black light suck the air out of her lungs.

  She could see what the gods had given her, floating in the air in front of her, before Guildmaster Arren spoke. She was stunned.

  "Congratulations, Mildred Jayne Coreia!" Guildmaster Arren said, his voice again amplified by one of his own skills. "The gods have chosen to grant you the [Death Mage] class."

  The cheers that rose from the gathered crowd were nonexistent—except from Millie's parents, of course—and the applause was cursory, short, and soft.

  Millie didn't know what to think. Apparently, there was a fourth option, too: a rare [Necromancer] advanced class option, similar to Lorey's [Runecrafter]. The possibility had never even crossed Millie's mind. A single advanced class wasn't unheard of for Class Day, though some seasons came and went without anyone getting a head start. So two was a big deal.

  Guildmaster Arren smiled at her, because he knew that she had gotten what she wanted. But it was a sad smile, too. Because he knew that she had gotten what she wanted.