Sidestepping the incoming ‘monster’, I pivot my shield on its bracer to push the charging wireframe humanoid past me, putting three rounds from my pistol into it – one in the arm, one in the torso, and one lucky shot to the side of its head. It drops in a heap as though a puppet with its strings cut while I stabilize myself on the oversized plasticky plate with its spikes stabbed into the sand of the training arena, looking around for more enemies until a buzzer sounds and I relax.

  “So how’d I do?” I ask, trying to hide my excitement and failing miserably.

  “Not bad for a level 0,” the middle-aged man replies, “to be fair, you’re not too bad at any of the Class paths you’ve tried… a bit better at the magic-based ones, but that’s not unusual if what you’ve said about your stats is accurate. It’s odd that you’d score so poorly on strategic roles though… are you sure you’re actually a social build?”

  The lightweight shield pivots again on the dual hinged bracket, the magnets snapping it into place to the side like a traditional buckler. Despite its easy handling it’s close in dimensions to an only vaguely undersized tower shield, though it looks full size next to my… okay, so I’m short. Whatever.

  “Yeah, that’s what Olive says. I’m supposed to be a social build but my magic is close.”

  “And your physical is…?”

  I shrug. “Kind of low, but can’t I just supplement that with equipment?”

  The trainer and evaluator shakes his head slowly. “You can, but it’s both expensive and risky to depend on in real danger. Assume anything can and will break, kiddo - especially when you really don’t want it to. That could kill you off, especially in a tank role.”

  Shrugging again, I point to the aptitude scores on the rectangular display affixed to the wall. “But that one’s highest, right? It’s fun too, so I want to do that.”

  My mother’s eyes follow and she sighs. “Are you sure, Sadie?”

  “Yep!” I nod excitedly. “Shield gunner! And I’m good at it too, I only did the course three times and I already have redirection figured out! I even got Skills for it already!”

  And I did, too.

  [Shield Handling 0]

  [Small Firearms 0]

  It was easy! All I had to do was keep shooting the fake targets! I’m not sure how exactly the big runic machine thing made them, but it works well.

  Of course, nothing like this exists on our home plane… mom picked that one specifically because it’s so peaceful since it doesn’t even have any monsters or dungeons. This one though? It has both! And apparently it’s one of the higher tech planes too.

  What was it called again? Sand something? For some reason I thought there’d be sand all over in the city but no, I haven’t seen any at all.

  There aren’t a lot of other eldra here either, though there are a few. Most of the people are indra, who mom keeps saying are our cousins though I’m not really sure how that works.

  Well, whatever. Besides, I’m a gorgon instead now, I think? It occurs to me that I don’t particularly care about that either, not anymore.

  …

  Was I ever really an eldra?

  …

  …

  Ah, mom and the trainer have been talking for a couple minutes… I should probably be paying more attention than this. It’s a bit more important than school… probably anyway!

  “-has to be better. I’ve spent years as a backline mage and I’ve lost friends, I know just how dangerous it is on the frontline. It’s unpredictable!”

  “I don’t disagree,” the man replies, “but ultimately that’s up to her, yeah?”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  They both glance at me and I just smile as if I’d been paying attention the whole time. “It is! And I think it’s what I want to do. I won’t have a chance at a Class until I’m around level 10 anyway, right? I can learn anything right now! Anything basic anyway. Right?”

  My mother hesitates, but the man just shrugs. What was his name again? “Yeah, pretty much. Just pace yourself and don’t do anything too dangerous, we lose too many youngsters to that.”

  “I won’t! Don’t worry, mister, I’ll be fine!”

  “A tank role, though? Are you sure, Sadie?”

  “Why not, mom? It’s not like this thing has a really long range,” I dismiss, wagging Covetous Wanderer around in the air. “I need to get close to whatever I’m fighting anyway, which means I’ll be in danger no matter what. I may as well be well protected and using the tools I’m comfortable with, right?”

  Yeah, that didn’t comfort her at all, but that’s fine. She’s always been overprotective, at least a little.

  After an awkward moment I spin on my heel and say, “Come on, mom! Let’s look at starting equipment!”

  ***

  We don’t have to go far – the entire street around the adventurer’s guild is packed with businesses catering to the needs of adventurers. No big surprise I suppose, I’ve heard people on the screen talk before about location being critical for business.

  The first few, however, seemed to only have more traditional weapons and armor, or things that just wouldn’t work for me… a weapon shop isn’t that useful if I’m basically stuck using this pistol, right?

  Besides, if I’m going to be a shield gunner, I need a shield! And the guy… uh.

  “What was his name again? The guy we talked to at the guild, I mean.”

  “Do you mean Latimer?” mom asks, and I nod.

  “Yeah, him!”

  …

  “Was there…”

  “Nope!” I chirp. “I was just curious.”

  “…Huh. Alright.”

  I fiddle with the grip my pistol sticking from my pocket as I ask, “So um, I had a holster in the training… thing. I should probably get one of those, right? Or at least something so I’m not gonna just…”

  “Carrying it in the open, yes. I understand. Well, that shop might have something,” she answers while gesturing at something across the street.

  “Hmm, yeah, I can see it. They have body armor and so forth, they’d probably have something like that too… hopefully not just the type that sticks to armor, but… huh. Should we look at armor first? And a shield! I need a shield!”

  A number of others we’ve been passing on the street seem to have noticed my exuberance, much to my mother’s chagrin, but I’m far too excited to care.

  “What kind of shield?”

  I spin around to face the source of the voice and come face to face with a large man with a similarly large shield, seemingly of traditional materials and set with what I can already tell are mana stones and a limited amount of runework to give it some kind of effect… probably just basic stability or resilience or something.

  “The kind I can use with this!” I say as my pistol materializes in my hand – not pointing it at anyone at all, mom made it very clear I’m not supposed to do that ever!

  The adventurer looks thoughtfully at it for a moment. “I wouldn’t say using a sidearm with a shield is a great idea, what if you need to reload or clear a jam or something? Your shield would just get in the way, or are you thinking a small shield? Is some kind of hybrid gunfighter Class what you’re going for?”

  “Nope! I’m gonna be a shield gunner!”

  “A tiny thing like you?” he asks with a tinge of disbelief. “You want to be a tank?”

  “Yeah! I took the aptitude thing at the guild and I did great at it! So I’m gonna do that.”

  My mother meanwhile just rubs the bridge of her nose. “I’m so sorry, sir. She’s just become an ascendant and everything is new and exciting to her.”

  “Oh, that’s fine,” he says, chuckling and waving a hand. “I was like that once too.”

  Then he turns back to me. “I’m a more traditional sword-and-board tank, but I’ve at least met a few folks who did something like what you’re talking about. This kind of gear? Yeah, this isn’t what you need, not a normal weapon shop. See, a shield gunner is a decidedly higher-tech role and as such needs higher-tech gear. What you need… is a runesmith. Catch is, they’re a bit harder to find. Especially good ones! I’ve heard the best one usually operates out of Gramr but there are definitely a few around here worth their salt. You know, considering where we are.”

  …

  …

  “You… don’t know where we are. Do you?”

  “Nope!”

  Both adults sigh and I completely ignore it. “So where are runesmiths then, mister? Can you point us to one?”

  Half an hour of small talk later, we walk into the front door of a workshop that meets the definition of ‘back-alley’ in the truest sense. As the steel barrier closes behind us mom finally releases the tension she’s been carrying ever since we left the main streets, but the tank guy who led us here didn’t look unsettled at all. Instead he just goes to the worn counter in the front and bangs a fist on the surface.

  “Hey Larsa, you in?” he calls.

  …And nothing happens, other than the hum of loud music in the back.

  A pinched look crosses his face. “Sorry, she’s not usually… okay, so she is usually like this, but… well. Hang on.”

  I tilt my head curiously as he gestures for us to wait before vaulting over the counter and slipping through the door behind it, the wall of sound blasting us briefly until it closes.

  …And it does nothing to stop us from hearing him shouting, probably at ‘Larsa’ or whoever. A moment later the man returns, dragging a heavily muscled gray-skinned woman by the arm, apparently in the middle of an argument.

  “-Don’t care what you – Oh, customers! Hello?”

  Her sudden fa?ade of professionalism is heavily undercut by her hand pushing the shielder away from her by his face while he still has a grip on one of her arms.

  This might have been a huge mistake… or at least that’s what I’m getting from the look of horror on my mother’s face.