Early next morning, the room was dim, as limited light shone in from the window.
Daemon slept like a log, the whole night, he woke at the sound of ritmick knocking.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." He pulled himself upright and opened the door. The old man stood in the corridor, expression unchanged from the night before, as though he had spent the intervening hours in exactly the same state of mild disinterest.
Does this old man not change his facial expression at all?. Daemon was quite curious.
"Food will be served in half an hour and will be available for three hours."
"Ok."
The old man left without further comment.
Daemon closed the door and then sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, running a hand through his silver hair. Then a thought arrived. I could have been robbed or killed in my sleep by anyone who wanted to try it.
He had been so exhausted he hadn't even considered it. No wonder the mandatory classes emphasized sleeping in an inn over sleeping outside or in an abandoned building — it wasn't just about comfort. Being unconscious in the open in a place like this, was asking for problems.
He filed that away, got dressed, and quickly went down the stairs and left the room before taking in the atmosphere.
The common room was considerably livelier than it had been the night before. Awakeners filled most of the tables — eating, drinking, arguing, laughing. The woman from behind the counter moved between tables with both speed and grace, and the smell of something hot and savory was already doing its best to fully wake him up.
The subject, as far as Daemon could tell within seconds of arriving, was him.
He found a quiet corner table, ordered food, and listened.
"The guilds have looked everywhere, but guess what, by the time they reached the underground there was nothing." someone was saying at a nearby table, loud enough that the whole common room could hear it without a problem.
Daemon kept his expression neutral and reached for his drink.
The guilds and clans have turned the city upside down looking for me but they haven't got a thing. That was useful to know, but Daemon didn't care that much, after all he knew they couldn't get anything on him, so he stirred the conversation towards where he was curious, to learn the opinions of others.
"What class, that person Daemon could possibly have to be able to go solo." asked Daemon, loud enough to be heard by the Awakeners present.
The response was immediate.
"You can't go solo in this fucking dump of a place," said a lean, sharp-faced man who was idly flipping a dagger between his fingers. His tone carried disdain considering the question stupid and a waste of energy to seriously engage it. " You definitely need a party."
Another Awakener cut in before anyone could agree — lean, with wire-rimmed glasses and a smartish look to him. "Are you genuinely incapable of basic reasoning, or just too lazy to apply it? Just because you can't manage alone doesn't mean no one can. That person conquered the underground of the Ascension Spire by himself. What makes you think he'd need a party to handle a normal beast in the labyrinth?"
"I'm with him," said a third man, older, with a thick moustache and an academic air about him. "If he can put down a level-thirty, a party is a convenience, not a requirement."
The question detonated into a full argument within seconds between two groups: One faction insisted that Daemon's accomplishments were genuine and the implications were obvious. The other faction found a dozen reasons to be skeptical, ranging from the plausible to the absurd.
Daemon watched it unfold, but he was quiet as a mouse and continued eating. After all, it was better to say nothing in such situations.
The argument was getting out of proportions until an Awakener who was clearly one of the strongest Awakeners present spoke.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the easy confidence that made people realise he was stronger than them. A well-kept sword hung at his side. He looked like the kind of person organizations sent to recruit other people, which meant he probably was.
"The kid's question is actually worth answering," he said, with a measured calm, accustomed to being listened to. "What class could someone like that have? He's clearly not aligned with any guild or clan — no one outside has heard of him, and no one in here seems to know him either."
None, he doesn't even have a recommendation let alone a class. That was Daemon's private contribution to the discussion, which he kept entirely to himself.
"I don't think he has any mage classes or healer ones," the dagger man said, and for once his tone carried something approaching genuine thought rather than reflexive dismissal. "The people with those classes are the easiest to kill in the lower levels and they truly shine if they are in a party, not solo."
"Finally," the glasses man said flatly, "something useful from you."
"So a warrior class," said a bald man across the room, built like a wall and dressed in warrior outfit. He said it with confidence, but you could tell he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box. "Maybe the Warrior class specifically."
"I also say he is a warrior," said one of the grunts of the bald man, and several people agreed, with enthusiasm.
"The Warrior class is decent," the moustache man said carefully, "but it's not exceptional on its own."
"What did you say punk?" The bald man's expression shifted immediately toward confrontation.
"What, did I say a lie?" the moustache man replied, unmoved. "Everyone who seriously pursues physical strength. They will need to choose the Warrior class eventually, but mostly because the intermediate or advanced classes in that line have the prerequisite of having at least a level invested in it."
The bald man grunted but he couldn't say much as it was true. The warrior class was good but not the best in what it offered be it stats or skills, most people chose it for the next classes. The bald man still felt wronged by all that.
The old man behind the counter spoke then, which was apparently unusual enough that several people turned to look at him.
"From experience," he paused. "The Hunter class gives you everything you need to operate alone. Strength, speed, endurance, awareness. It doesn't excel at any one thing, but it doesn't leave you exposed either." he said, without looking up from whatever he was doing behind the counter.
"From experience?" The tall muscular man spoke. "Im pretty sure you are not a Hunter old man."
"I am not, but" stopping and looking directly towards the Awakeners.
"I have been saved by a man once, he was a B-rank talent — who was so done with the big guilds that he went entirely solo. He had the Hunter class. Things went well for him, all things considered,"
"Ironically," he added, with something personal in his voice, "that man's real dream was to open an inn. Not to spend his life in the Tower and face its dangers."
A quieter man near the back of the room spoke up. "I've also heard about a man who was an F rank like me. With his talent in perception and with the hunter class was useful enough to be in a party led by a D-rank."
The tall muscular man took all of it in, nodded as if understanding something and didn't say anything anymore.