Huh? Me too?
It made sense for Yelena. In the original game, she was Patriot’s adopted daughter.
Of course, there was nothing bad about it. I couldn't tell what Patriot was thinking, but being his adopted son would only make operating within the Guerrilla easier; it wasn't exactly a restriction.
"You said you desired strength. Before that, there is something you must do."
"What is it?"
"Follow me."
The man who was now my father strode out of the tent. You’d think someone that massive would be slow and clumsy, but he moved faster than expected. Yelena and I scrambled to keep up with him.
Eventually, he stopped in front of a wooden building. Even the living quarters were just tents, yet this was a proper building. I wondered what kind of VIP lived here.
"Wait a moment."
A red energy manifested in Patriot's hand. Arts. Well, he was Infected, so it was only natural he could use Arts.
The tightly locked door began to open in response to Patriot's Arts. It was only after seeing the contents inside that I realized what this place was.
Swords, spears, shields, crossbows, Arts staves... the building was filled with various weapons.
"Whoa..."
"It’s an armory..."
Yelena seemed amazed by the sheer quantity of organized weaponry. To be honest, I was overwhelmed too.
"Do you know why I have brought you here?"
"To pick a weapon that suits us?"
"That is not incorrect. The battlefield is a place where many soldiers, each with their own characteristics, harmonize to achieve victory.
Alongside your weapon, you must decide for yourselves what role you will play on the battlefield. You must choose your Class."
Simply put, he was telling us to choose our branch of service.
Fitting for a game with a touch of fantasy, every character in Terra had a designated Class.
Vanguards, who stand at the vanguard to meet the enemy first or act as scouts to prepare for unforeseen dangers.
Defenders, who block countless enemies based on their high health and defense.
Guards, who use melee weapons like swords to suppress enemies who get close.
Snipers, who use bows or guns to deal physical damage to enemies from afar.
Casters, who use Arts staves to deal magic damage to distant enemies.
Medics, who heal wounded allies to increase the unit's sustainability on the battlefield.
Supporters, who assist allies with special abilities like slowing or buffing.
Specialists, who perform special missions based on their excellent mobility.
Of course, if you looked closer, the Classes were subdivided further, but broadly speaking, these eight Classes existed.
"Dad, I want to be a Caster!"
Look at her. It hasn't been that long since she became his adopted daughter, and she's already calling him 'Dad.'
Regardless, she had chosen a Class that suited her.
Yelena had already shown the terrifying feat of freezing everything inside that cave even without an Arts staff.
When she appeared as a boss in the game, she used various Arts skills, making me think she was the first 'proper' boss the game had introduced.
"Very well. Then, Earth, what do you wish to be?"
"Ah, I think I need to think about it a bit more."
I had to be realistic about my capabilities. I didn't have any notable experience other than being an artilleryman back on Earth.
I wasn't particularly skilled with a sword, nor was I monstrously strong.
So, I ruled out Guard and Vanguard. If I had at least attended a Kendo academy back on Earth, I might have tried, but it was a bit disappointing.
"What do you think of being a Defender? If you choose to be a Defender, I shall personally tutor you."
Whoa! Tutelage from a hero!
However, I wasn't really feeling it. Ultimately, a Defender needed to be able to carry heavy full-body armor and a shield; I doubted my scrawny body could handle that.
"No. I don't think Defender suits me, Father."
"Ahem."
Patriot let out a series of dry coughs, as if embarrassed by my rejection.
"Earth, Dad went out of his way to offer! You're mean."
"I'm sorry."
"No. It seems you have a better Class in mind."
Man, when he says it's fine like that, it makes me feel even guiltier.
"Do you happen to have any guns?"
Naturally, I was most drawn to being a Sniper. I was a marksman during my military service, and above all, having actual experience compared to other weapons was the biggest merit.
"I am sorry, but we have no guns. In our difficult situation, we do not stock such inefficient and expensive weapons."
Ah, right. Guns aren't that useful here.
In Terra, where gunpowder hadn't developed, guns were weapons used exclusively by the angelic race known as the Sankta.
As a monopolized weapon, they were naturally expensive.
Furthermore, unlike guns on Earth, they didn't work by simply pulling a trigger. They required a fairly complex process, and if you couldn't pull it off, an explosion would occur.
In the end, they were white elephants that no one could use unless they belonged to that specific race. It was certainly a difficult weapon to procure for the Guerrilla, who had to wander around protecting the Infected.
Since I had never used a bow or a crossbow, I naturally gave up on being a Sniper as well.
"Could I try using an Arts staff?"
"Take whichever one you like."
That was fine by me. I picked up a staff that looked as clean as possible.
"Could you tell me how to discharge Arts?"
"Hmm? What do you mean by that?"
"Pardon? I mean, how do I release the Arts?"
"Hmm?"
The man who was now my foster father tilted his head as if he had heard a strange question.
"The discharge of Arts? Since you are not Infected, Earth, it is impossible for you to discharge Arts from within your body.
However, since an Arts staff utilizes the Originium embedded within it, anyone can do it with a little concentration."
No... I'm asking how you do that...
"Earth, why don't you understand? Just try to imagine drawing out the energy inside your body."
Yelena tried to give me advice since she couldn't bear to watch, but even after grunting for a long time, not a single spark appeared on the Arts staff.
"...It seems I'm no good at this."
"Hmm. Even if we assume you are clumsy because it is your first time, it is strange that the Arts staff does not react at all.
Originally, these weapons react to the Originium mixed in one's blood, allowing even beginners to operate them easily. Strange indeed."
Uh...? It reacts to the Originium in the blood...?
Only then did I realize my approach was wrong. It wasn't that I was clumsy at handling Arts. It was simply that my very existence was incapable of handling them.
Normally, anyone living in Terra has Originium in their body. Just like how our bodies contain minerals like iron or zinc.
However, I wasn't a Terran; I was a human from Earth who had reincarnated here. For me, who had lived in a place where Originium didn't exist, using Originium in my blood was an absurdity.
...Then Caster was out of the question. The same went for Medic. In fact, considering that almost every Class used weapons or armor that utilized Arts, there was almost nothing I could do.
"Earth? Are you alright?"
"Ah... it's nothing."
I was in trouble. To talk so big only to hit a wall like this.
But I couldn't give up. I had made a promise to myself in that cave. That I would stay by Yelena's side. That I would shatter the tragic fate laid out before her.
"Wait? What's that?"
As I desperately searched every corner of the warehouse, a familiar object caught my eye.
"Have you found something suitable?"
"Father... what is this?"
"That is a communication device used by Messengers. It generates Arts through Originium fuel to propagate tactical orders to the entire army and is used to effectively control the battlefield."
Wait... these are the PRC-999K and P-96K.
They were devices that looked identical to the radios my fellow soldiers used to use.
This might work. First of all, it passed the test because the appearance was familiar. I even had experience helping the communications branch occasionally, so learning how to use it wouldn't be difficult.
Most importantly, as long as I replaced the device's Originium battery, I could provide support even with zero Arts ability.
"I'll go with this."
"That is unexpected."
"Why?"
"I thought you would choose a different Class. Being a Messenger is not particularly popular. Because you must carry conspicuous equipment, you are the first to be targeted by the enemy.
Because of that, most people tend to avoid it."
I wouldn't have chosen this if I could use Arts either. How great would it have been if I could fight back-to-back with Yelena?
But that was impossible. If I lacked combat power, I would only be a burden to her. If so, I wanted to help her in a different way.
Even if I couldn't fight back-to-back, I wanted to go one step ahead and roll out the red carpet for her.
"Is that so? But I like this. It means I can act as the 'head' on the battlefield. I've always preferred being on the side that gives the orders."
My foster father's expression was hidden by his helmet, so I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I hoped he just saw it as the youthful vigor of a young man.
And so, I became a Messenger of the Supporter Class.
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