It's time to change the genre (again). Now its a Princess Rearing Social Sim!

It's time to change the genre (again). Now its a Princess Rearing Social Sim!

Only one problem remained. "How are you doing now that I'm no longer a Magical Dungeon Gunslinger, Larry?"

"It doesn't bother me!" He said with certainty. "Will you kill lots of Infernali?"

"You can bet on that, buddy. Now, what replacement should I pick?"

I called Marshall to the command wagon. Then I explained one choice I found interesting but was wary of to him.

"Classes that come with companions are very rare. Not (Very Rare) but yeah. A (Legendary) sounds about right. These companions are usually very strong."

I glared at Larry. The platypus shrugged. Marshall couldn't see him.

"I doubt this Valkyrie is weak." Marshall continued. "I knew one Earth mage who got a Golem companion from a sub-Class. The golem did more heavy-lifting than the mage. And I don't mean just lifting heavy stuff in the literal sense."

"Do you think I should bet on this Valhalla Class?"

"The Trismegistus one sounds very interesting. You can already create any item you can imagine. What if they are enchanted too?"

"A project for later. When I finally get my evolution."

Dude, what a Freudian slip.

"Oh. Are you already at that level? I hoped I would catch up but... I am not going out and fighting every day. What is your trial? Perhaps I can help."

"Oh, but you will," I told him.

Marshall widened his eyes. "Four million people? Is that why you split the city into layers? People liked the scenic tram rides."

"I'm glad they did. So, We need to find people and convince them to join us."

"I'll do what I can to help you gather that many people. Promise. Now, there's one thing I noticed. Some citizens are worshiping you as their new deity. The priests of the Patriarch are somewhat annoyed by that."

"Oh, that should be my new Class. I am a [God Dungeon] now. So, I am their new deity," I said in my mechanical voice.

Marshall squinted. "Are you shitting me?"

"No. All true. I'm their new God. This Patriarch guy can come and lodge a complaint. I don't see him ripping World Bosses a new one. Also, if these priests want to test their luck in the wilderness, they are welcome to. Now, how sure you are this Valhalla Class will not be completely stupid?"

"I am a hundred percent certain it will be a good one."

"Then fuck it. Here goes nothing."

You became a Valhalla Core (Legendary, Core).

> The grand halls lost to time where the Einherjar feasted, drank, brawled, and... did non-PG-13 stuff. Grasp a piece of eternity and realizes it unfolds forever unto itself. Choose the worthy to inhabit your halls forever, and join in battle in a time of great need. Valkyrie servant included; the last survivor of Ragnark. Lost and trapped in between dimensions, she awaits release.

> You gain the Trait, Halls of the Slain: Your Inner World is 50% larger (at least 4 square miles) at no extra cost. On this space, a mighty mountain rises, and upon it a palace for the chosen warriors among the dead. The Einherjar who inhabit there are sworn to fight for you if the enemy is worthy. Each inhabitant of Valhalla lowers the upkeep cost of your Inner World by 1 point.

> You gained the Trait, Valkyrie Profile: Some facets of the summoned Valkyrie need to be determined by you. A new tab called "Valkyrie" was created in your Status.

You gain experience by recruiting, training, and fighting alongside Einherjar.+2 Willpower, +2 Clarity, +1 Hardness, and 1 base MP per level.Class Skill: War-Standard of the Worthy: Lead the chosen Einherjar into battle.Rank I benefits: Einherjar recruited into Valhalla train (10*Rank)% faster.

A rift opened right beside us. We became extremely wary but it wasn't pitch-black like the one leading to wherever the Infernali come from. This rift had stars and a nebula. Then something white and red flopped through and the thing closed. It was a winged woman. Blonde, about six feet two inches tall, wearing broken armor. Her wings were in terrible condition and she was bleeding from what appeared to be a hundred wounds.

Marshall crouched next to her and poured three healing potions over her body. I saw her flesh knit like it was a real-time animation. Soon, the woman stirred.

"g skynja nrveru hins gulega," she said roughly. She was speaking a dialect of Icelandic?

I cast Bless: empower on her. It worked. She rose to her elbows and knees, then pulled herself to a kneeling position. She had the face of someone who'd fought a hundred battles and deep blue eyes. She stared at Blackjack Six.

"Fyrir a bjarga mr, tt akkir mnar, herra minn," She kowtowed.

Then the System decided to burn the deferred Exp I had.

> You gained 40 levels of Valhalla Core.

> You learned the Perk, Nibelung Velocity: You (or Mecha you pilot) move 20% faster.

> You learned the Perk, Holy Zeal: You gain a [10+sqrt(level)]% combat bonus.

> You gained 40 levels of Valhalla Core

> You learned the Trait, Asgardian Wings: You sprout wings. Gain the power to fly at 20 feet per second. Your armor (and Mecha) and equipment do not burden you.

> An obsolete Perk was converted into 5% Attribute Efficiency.

"Are you okay with 'Sleetstorm Sorceress'?"

"It shall be as you wish, my Lord." She replied stiffly.

"Rta, stand up." She did with a startle. "Let me tell you what I want." She stood up but didn't speak. Instead, she just nodded. "Do you know of the Infernali?"

"It is a clan of Demons that plague the multiverse. The Infernali specialty is brute monsters instead of the cunning other clans favor."

I thought that between strong and dumb or cunning and devious, I'd rather have the former.

"Earth is being invaded by them. I need to rescue humans and bring them into that demiplane there. We need to gather einherjar to fight for us in Valhalla. Which I need to create yet."

"I understand. Do you want me to go and seek worthy warriors for you?"

"We will seek them together. Now, your Sub-Classes. Say yes or no to them, yes if you want to add them to your... Valkyrie profile." Rta nodded.

"I don't think mixing might and magic is a problem. Sleetstorm Sorceress? It's an (Epic)." She answered, "Yes." And I picked the Sub-Class.

Sub-Class: Sleetstorm Sorceress (Epic, Spellcaster)

> Mistress of the frozen North. Bringer of ice and ruin. All shall despair and freeze upon her magical might.

Rta's main Class was (Legendary). Or she was a (Mythic) with not enough achievements for a (Legendary) sub. Which I doubted.

"Would you be offended if I asked what is your Main Class's Rarity? Is it (Legendary) or (Mythic)? You don't have to answer if you do not want to," It was so awkward I forgot my contractions.

"Not at all. My main Class is a (Legendary), Valkyrie Battle-Maiden."

Main Class: Valkyrie Battle-Maiden (Legendary, Warrior/priest)

> Chooser of the dead, War-priestess of Odin. The Valkyries are tasked with selecting and supporting the einherjar, chosen warriors of their patron deity.

"Good. Thank you for sharing that information with me, Rta."

"My Lord is the owner of everything I am," she said candid and solemnly. I ignored the other connotations that line had. One, I was a crystallized apple. Two, PG-13.

"Next. Gatekeeper of Valgrind." It was also (Epic). But while higher rarity was always better even for sub-Classes, synergy mattered more.

She startled and widened her eyes. "It would be a great honor, my Lord."

Sub-Class: Gatekeeper of Valgrind (Epic, Support/Priest)

> Steward of Valhalla, defender of the Gladsheimr. Kings prostrate themselves to win her favor and be granted entry into the golden Halls.

"Deal. Winged War-Priestess?" She nodded and I picked the Sub-Class.

Sub-Class: Winged War-Priestsss (Epic, Support/Priest)

> She who flies over the battlefield, granting the blessings of her Lord upon the warriors. May they know she's watching and display the battle prowess required to be selected to join her in the halls of Valhalla.

"Gjallarhorn's Shield-Bearer?" Another frantic nod. Though she struggled to remain austere, she was liking the sub-Classes.

Sub-Class: Gjallarhorn's Shield-Bearer (Epic, Warrior)

> An esquire of gods, the standard-bearer of the Aesir armies. When Gjallahorn blares, Ragnark begins. Under the aegis of Valhalla, the chosen shall battle.

"Herald of Winter?" She cracked a grin.

Sub-Class: Herald of Winter (Epic, Spellcaster)

> Embrace the ice, the stillness, the purity of frost. Bring forth a cleansing ice age to undo this world and usher in a new Spring.

Ah, The number of sub-Classes was also a hint to her main Class rarity. She had eight sub-Classes. Three to go. I wished she could get Mecha Pilot, Power Armor Marine, and Minuteman Ranger to allow her to use my technology. I had to leave three slots open.

"I'm afraid you need to undergo some training to unlock more suitable Sub-Classes, Rta."

She lowered her head. "I'm sorry I do not match your expectations, my Lord."

"Nah. Don't worry. It is the other way around. The world has changed. We need to adapt. Say, how would you fight a monster whose arms reach two miles away?"

"I would charge into battle and dodge its attacks."

"What if you could wear armor that was a hundred feet tall? Let me show you something. Follow me."