Choice - 1

Choice - 1

School libraries weren't a part of my exclusive list of favorite hangouts, my preseference being for the pungent smell of expensive scotch over the unique smell of old books. Still, I was sufficiently familiar with them, enough to know that dashing through the corridors at full speed, not caring about the noise I was making with my every frantic crushing step which was not a good thing.

It was the kind of thing that summoned a stone-faced librarian, her fingers raised in warning.

But when I turned a sharp corner, grabbing a shelf to stifle my momentum, sending them down in noisy a crash, blocking the path behind me, no librarian came to block my path, ready to warn me because of my disrespect.

Perhaps they were intimidated by my expensive clothes an elegant, tailored suit with a price tag that was shockingly close to six figures, combined with an expensive, handmade watch that was well into six figures. Perhaps it was a lack of respect for the fact that my hair was more white than black, showing my advanced age, just a few years away from my sixties.

Or maybe just a wild, wild guess they were intimidated by the three men who chased after me, firing off their guns. And not always missing, as it could be attested by several raw wounds, giving a dark hue to the gray of my suit.

"Damn," I muttered as I pressed my hand to my shoulder, desperately trying to stem the blood from my worst wound. Luckily, it was not the artery, meaning I wasn't at risk of immediate collapse.

Though, even without risking an immediate collapse, I didn't have long to live, not unless I could achieve a small miracle.

Dodging them by running faster was a long shot especially without a a clotting of wounds that leaked into my body. I was surprisingly athletic for my age, but considering that age was the late fifties, it wasn't as useful as I wanted to delude myself into thinking.

Avoiding a trio of contract killers was a young man's game.

Stopping to surrender was the optimistic thing to do. It sounded tempting to bet my hope on the slight possibility that they might show me mercy more mercy than they had shown to my bodyguards.

I rejected that path.

I didn't survive this long in my line of work by relying on the mercy of others, not from a position of weakness. I rather die than become a prisoner of whatever madman who decided that taking his opponents in public, flashy ambushes was a good way of settling into a new city.

My wish wasn't too outlying , I decided as found myself going deeper into the library rather than trying to find a quick exit. Any second, I might come against a dead end, and what would follow would only justify that name.

Still, it was a better option than trying to ditch three assassins in their prime by running across an open courtyard.

I was on the lookout for a suitable ambush spot even as I ran, hoping to find a way to take them down. Unfortunately, the library lacked that. A lot of concealment, but nothing that would hold back a bullet.

I might have just tried to wait at one end of a corridor for a last stand if I had anything but a concealed 9mm pistol with me another mistake, one I committed because no one dared to try targeting me for a long while. I didn't dare to rely on that, as, unlike ordinary people, I knew very well just how little stopping power that little gun had.

It was terrifying against civilians, but unless luck was on my side and I managed to get three headshots in succession before they managed to take me down, such a confrontation had only one, inevitable end.

Maybe if I was still young but endurance wasn't the only aspect that deteriorated with time. Aiming, reactions, even the ability to take them down

I dashed forward, trying to ignore the existential dread of mortal danger, trying to ignore that a wrong turn was all it would take for me to end up trapped with three professional killers who were both better armed and in a better condition than me.

A young man, tall and bespectacled, standing in front of some kind of glowing light, hypnotized by the sight. The glow itself was beautiful and mysterious, white mixing with purple and a bunch of other colors that I never thought to be possible.

The boy was just another student, and if his bright-colored bag with a drawn cartoon character was any indicator, not a particularly mature one by college standards.

A weird phenomenon, one that captured the attention of the students fully. Otherwise, he would have reacted to the gunfire or a bloodied man running into the room.

Yet, he walked calmly, in a trance, clearly not controlling his actions, and his hand already disappeared into the light.

I couldn't help but tense. I was not exactly a believer of God the supernatural, etc. but I had never been one to actively reject either. It was just one of the things in life that I didn't bother digging, no more than exploring how a computer worked.

Yet, my lack of belief didn't stop me from dashing forward without thinking. I had no idea what was going on, but it was better than three gunmen behind me.

I had no idea what that glowing light was, or why the boy was walking toward it. Maybe it was just a stupid glitch of light or a toy, something I was just trying to give more weight to ignore my upcoming death, a halucination from the blood loss. Maybe it was something as magical as it looked, but just like the stories, it would burn the unworthy.

As I approached, I could feel a whisper in my mind, convincing me to stay away, a sense of disgust, one that turned into fear. I pushed forward, easily ignoring the thoughts and sensations, the kind that never stopped me before.

I covered most of the distance, and that mental impression was replaced by a sensation of unworthiness, whispering that it was not an opportunity I deserved.

I ignored the moral implications even more easily. I tried to live a good life and not harm other people unless it was completely necessary, and I did my best to help others, but I was never under any misconception about my true personality.

Above anything, I was a selfish survivor. One didn't climb to the top in any business and certainly not in the criminal world being pointlessly altruistic.

I paid my debts, but I was no angel.

It helped me to recognize that those thoughts were also a mirage. All my life, I had never thought of anything as being worthy or unworthy, believing justice to be nothing more than an illusion. The closest thing the world had was the mercy of the strong, wrapped in the veneer of idealized justice

Even if I was mistaken about that, I was much more willing to take that risk and discuss that with whatever god or devil was responsible for the magic that I saw in front of me, rather than turning back to surrender myself to an inevitable death.

As I heard the door opening behind me, I threw myself forward once more, the explosion of a gun loud behind me. I felt a bullet being buried in my neck.

I ignored the pain as I grabbed the shoulder of the student and pulled him back, throwing him to the other side recklessly, even as I used that as leverage to push myself deeper into the portal, ignoring several other points of pain blossoming on my body.

and light invaded my vision, blinding me along with pain.

Then, a line of text appeared in my vision.

[Class Acquired: Hero]