|————
|Strength: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped) ( ? )
|Stamina: 25
|Agility: 64 — (50 + 14 Equipped)
|Dexterity: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Intellect: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Luck: 0 ( ! )
|Free Stat Points: 40
|Hit Points: 550/550
|Endurance: 300/300
|Mana Points: 310/310
|Leveclass="underline" 20
|EXP Until Next Leveclass="underline" [
|————
|Traits ( ][ ) ( ][][][ )
|————
|Appearance – 8 (Equipped)
|Disciplined – 12— 62% [
|Heroic – 2— 2% [
|Hunter – 8— 23% [
|Rider – 2— 15% [
|Steadfast – 1— 0% [
|Stealthy – 4— 60% [
|Thick – 1— 20% [
Before he knew it, he was level 20. He had almost forgotten about the initial, randomized allocation of stat points he had been granted for choosing not to customize his character at the start of the game, but he noticed that the little ‘X’-marked bubble next to his statistics had changed into an exclamation mark. Eager to find out where his stats were distributed, Dakkon clicked on the new button and a message displayed for him:
[You have created your character without customizing it.]
[Now that you have reached level 20, your hidden statistics will be revealed.]
Dakkon went as far as holding his breath. He knew that, ultimately, nothing was changing. He had had the stats all along, so he wouldn’t really be gaining anything new. But now at least he’d know if he had been blessed with talent in the arcane arts which he should be pursuing. He was feeling rather intelligent, after all. Dakkon looked back at his statistics in anticipation:
|————
|Statistics ( ][][ ) ( ][][][ )
|————
|Strength: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped) ( ? )
|Stamina: 25
|Agility: 64 — (50 + 14 Equipped)
|Dexterity: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Intellect: 13 — (10 + 3 Equipped)
|Luck: 50
“What the—luck! Only luck?” Dakkon nearly hyperventilated as he struggled to keep his shock internalized. He didn’t need to randomly lose face in front of the other group members. As far as he was concerned, he had been shafted. The exchanged words of two brothers on his first day bubbled up to the surface of his thoughts:
“Luck’s trash… if you put points into strength, you get stronger. With agility, you can feel yourself moving faster… but with luck, it doesn’t do anything. You don’t get stronger, faster, or smarter. You get nothing-er. It’s garbage in basically every game.” He remembered agreeing with the older brother’s sentiment at the time. It seemed that, instead of a boon of great strength or importance, he’d been given some sort of booby prize.
Though it hadn’t been the wonderful surprise he had expected it to be, he’d simply have to shrug it off. It didn’t harm his development. At worst, luck was still better than nothing, and Dakkon didn’t feel particularly cheated by defaulting his appearance to his own instead of spending hours crafting a visage. Still, it sucked to learn that he wouldn’t be able to pick up a mage class and start off leaps and bounds ahead of everyone else.
The newly entered, younger brother’s response to that initial conversation came to mind once again: “If luck’s so bad then why is it even in the game?” Now, he’d have the opportunity to find out. Considering the things that had happened to him so far… had he been particularly lucky? He recounted some of his earlier experiences:
Nearly scammed, experimented on, and attacked by bandits on his first day? Not lucky. Rat stew and a swarm of rats? Also not lucky. Bag of incredible loot? Insanely lucky. Getting lured into the forest to die? Definitely not lucky. Finding the goatmen? Arguably lucky. Making it through the goatmen? Probably very lucky. Finding the resurrection relic? Beyond lucky. Dropping and crushing the priceless relic? As far from lucky is imaginable—though it did sort of lead to his special edgemaster class.
“Bah,” Dakkon scratched his head as he thought, “As far as I can tell it all just sort of evens out in the end.” He decided that, for now, he’d dismiss the matter. Dakkon knew he’d have plenty of opportunities to see just how lucky he was in the future.
When the group finally made their way back to town to sell their cart load of parts—containing approximately double what they had sold before—the material appraisers were surprised to find that so much of the glands were untainted. Before, the group received 12 gold in total. Selling double that amount without taking the effects of Dakkon’s refrigeration into account, ought to yield around 24 gold—but the group’s jaws collectively dropped when they were offered 120 gold for the pile. Taking it gladly, each player received an equal share amounting to 20 gold.
“Which one of you brilliant bastards chilled the pork?” asked Ramses. “That was a top-notch move. I don’t see any ice, though. Zelle, did you have a spirit that can cool things?” The shaman shook her head. Ramses looked from person to person. Dakkon reacted to the inquisition by looking away, betraying himself to Ramses’s sharp eye.
“No way,” said Ramses. “You can do that too?”
Dakkon simply shrugged. Explaining that his damage came entirely from an item and that he was a glorified mobile ice chest wasn’t high on his list of priorities.
“Well, pat yourself on the back my friend. You’ve just changed the way things are done around here. Once the word gets out, every group will pay to bring a cart load of ice if that means five times the profit,” said Ramses. “We should see if we can buy some ice and set up a stall—unless of course you can make ice, too.” Ramses looked at Dakkon with a grin that suggested he wasn’t serious, but held the gaze for a length of time that showed he wasn’t really sure what to expect.