I Only Wanted A Class In The Apocalypse Chapter 2 - The Orb

"Sit… Sit… Today is a special day," the old man said with excitement as he guided me into the grand hall of his massive mansion.

The hall featured decorations of gold and exotic ores, along with statues of towering men radiating arrogance and dominance that always filled me with wonder each time I entered.

Every item in this mansion screamed luxury! Yet there he sat in tattered rags, looking like a beggar right before my eyes.

"What makes it special?" I took my seat, attempting to match his rhythm.

"You'll find out shortly," he replied warmly before continuing, "tell me, have you memorized all the stories I shared with you?"

Come on, get real! Every meeting began with this irritating query, making me feel like a student facing my strict teacher.

"You know that even if I tried to forget, those memory orbs you handed me keep replaying your tales nonstop, even during my sleep."

I pulled out five tiny black beads from my pocket, and they immediately began hovering in the air. These pesky items relentlessly echoed the old man's voice, repeating his words as if I couldn't hear!

"You'll appreciate it someday," he remarked mysteriously, grinning broadly while nodding. He clearly enjoyed tormenting me this way. Yet I couldn't reject his so-called gift—it was part of a quest he assigned, offering five coins each day to aid my survival.

"I'm in a great mood today. So I'll begin by addressing your most frequent question."

"Where did you get all these… incredible stories?"

I nearly blurted out nonsense but held my tongue just in time. The last time I spoke that way, he flew into a rage and skipped our next session.

Even if he rambled on with his wild tales again, I had no choice but to listen attentively. Life held no easy paths for me or others in my position.

"I'll explain, but drop that skeptical attitude," the old man frowned sternly before shifting to a grave expression, "he was my master, a legendary figure who saved me when our foes slaughtered us like bugs. And he has a fascinating tale—want to hear it?"

"Like I have any say in this," I shrugged, my voice dripping with boredom and disinterest.

The old man ignored my mood and pressed on:

"I know you're clever even without a class. You devour books and dig into knowledge. I also know your deepest wish is to gain a class and turn this wretched existence around. So tell me, young human lad, who is our shared ultimate foe?"

'Young human boy?' That was a new phrase from him. For a moment, I wondered if he wasn't human himself. But remembering his madness, I brushed it off and responded steadily:

"The demons, maybe? They're the savage race that devours our flesh with glee."

"Incorrect, try once more."

What the heck?! My reasoning had always seemed spot-on! I nearly protested, but he lifted a finger in warning, silencing me.

"Then it must be those beasts, werewolves, vampires—or hold on, maybe those haughty, filthy dragons drowning in power and riches!"

"Nope," he rejected flatly before revealing, "it's the angels."

"W… What? Impossible!" I jumped to my feet, yelling, "They led us to salvation! The sole beings who reached out during the apocalypse's chaos. They're our guides, for crying out loud!"

"You sound like an eyewitness who saw it all firsthand," the old man's retort jolted me. "Or maybe you wield immense power and access to forbidden truths hidden from everyone else."

He made sense! But offered zero proof for his wild accusation. "It's common knowledge what they did to save us in those dire times."

"And still, look at you," he gestured toward me, "a classless human youth, sharp-minded and hardworking, resourceful and a fierce combatant. Have you ever pondered your true roots?"

"My roots?" I slumped back into my chair, struck down by his words.

"You're sharp enough to grasp this yourself," his demeanor felt off today—all grave, lacking his typical quirky faces. "With such exceptional traits, and many classless folks boasting similar gifts, how did our ancestors flop so miserably in the apocalypse?"

"..."

Blast it! His statement pierced straight into my thoughts effortlessly. I'd often wondered what my forebears did to doom me to this fate.

I felt like a failure, yet my willpower, intellect, and skills screamed otherwise. Reflecting on his point, the picture sharpened—and grew bizarrely stranger.

Bloodlines decided everything! Everyone accepted that truth. Classes served as prime proof: family lines with classes passed them down.

When two class holders from different lines united, their child might inherit a fresh class. But mix in a classless parent, and the kid risked emerging empty-handed.

This rule widened the gulf between classed society and the classless outcasts. It fueled my hopeless existence, with no prospects for me or my future descendants.

"Pure logic," the old man stated deliberately, "if you possess such superior traits, why didn't your parents? Your grandparents? I claim many classless humans today harbor vast potential. They don't merit this mistreatment. But how did it come to this? How did you?"

Now the pieces connected in my head. I quit chasing unknowable causes and muttered dispiritedly, "So you're claiming our saviors back then were really our foes?"

"I wouldn't say it without cause," he affirmed, "now give me one solid reason for your pitiful lot."

No such answer existed. In my core, I knew I was meant for more. I didn't earn this misery—that conviction alone sustained my grim life.

"But I share this not just to name our enemies, but to reveal a horrifying figure among them," suddenly, the old man produced an odd orb.

Sized like a tennis ball, entirely crimson, it pulsed with inner life. Swirling red currents churned visibly within as he held it.

"That foe wielded a dreadful power that dragged everything to utter ruin," he tossed the orb skyward playfully.

Its look alone marked it as no ordinary trinket. Among his cherished relics and treasures he handled casually like trash!

Unknowingly, my gaze tracked its arc as he spoke on:

"That scum could rewind time every century, a hundred times over," abruptly he caught it, adding, "yet he wasn't alone—humans had their own counterpart."

"Rewind time?!!" Shock hit me hard; I bellowed, "No class in our world lists such a power or skill!"

"You think a power that rare would go public?" he replied measuredly, eyes conveying utter sincerity—he truly believed every word.

"Why share all this with me?" I demanded softly, locking eyes with him.

"Told you, kid—today's special," evading a clear reply, he lifted the orb to my face, "like it?"

"You're too cheap to gift me anything," I refused to bite again.

"Hahaha, spot on," he cackled like a cunning merchant before withdrawing it, "that powerful human was my mentor. He spared my life and revealed vast secrets from his experiences and past eras."

"Quite the sage," I felt queasy from his orb tease, "but why confide so much in you?"

"He tasked me with finding his successor, one to achieve what he couldn't."

"What exactly?" By now, I merely trailed his narrative, curiosity faded. All I craved was escape for some solitude.

"He uncovered a weakness in his power—and that angel scum's," the old man caressed the orb reverently.

I'd never witnessed him treasure any possession like this before. A first for me.

"This power requires a matching wielder in another race. Like nature's laws, opposing forces must balance for any to thrive."

I nodded listlessly as his lecture flowed.

"Thus, he grasped he enabled that villain's atrocities against humanity. Other races endured endless loops: forgetting past apocalypses, reliving them afresh every century before the rewind."

"But we had our human hero, didn't we?" I asked flatly, "why didn't he counter that monster?"

"He failed," the old man intoned, as if reliving the defeat himself—not some figment of his delusion. "He gave his all, attempt after attempt. Ninety-nine straight failures, as anticipated."

"Isn't this the classic tired tale?" I voiced my skepticism, "Come on! Next you'll claim the foe was ready with perfect schemes, unlike your so-called champion."

His glare signaled I'd irked him. Damn! Those coins mattered too much to jeopardize. "I'm just… viewing from every angle," I rushed, feigning remorse.

"If you insist," he uttered coolly, grudge lingering, "as you noted, that cursed fake angel had clan backing and countless contingencies. So our hero…"

Stressing 'our' deliberately to quash dissent. How could I argue when he controlled my lifeline, old timer?

"…opted for a desperate gamble—a bold wager I admire deeply for his guts."

"Sure, bravery and might define him," I slipped again unwisely. Yet this time, no fury or scorching stare followed.

Instead, a sly smirk crossed his face, hinting at impending excitement.

"Phew!"

Like flicking a bouncy toy, he snapped his fingers, launching the orb at me suddenly. It shattered on impact like brittle glass!

"What the hell…" The confined red swirls burst forth, enveloping me unbidden, claiming my form effortlessly.

I leaped up, batting at the dense red tendrils like dousing flames. But resistance only accelerated their takeover.

"What have you done?!" I yelled in terror at him, "I didn't mean my words! Please, have mercy!" I begged, but he rose calmly, gaze conveying hopelessness.

Like doom was sealed!

"Now I've fulfilled my duty, passing the ultimate gift to its rightful heir," back to cryptic speech he went.

"Quit the insanity! This isn't the moment to crack!" I howled desperately as scorching heat surged through me—like fiery essence igniting dry tinder.

"Heed this…" Ignoring my cries, he stepped before me steadily, "it's a token of thanks, a debt to repay my kin, human boy."

"Cut the rubbish and halt this lunacy now!" I roared furiously, but he tuned me out entirely.

"I entrust you as my mentor entrusted me long ago… Don't forget: aid and rescue my true angel clan amid the coming apocalypse calamity. Seek us out, save us… Heed the golden quests as they arise to settle this lifelong obligation. Those false angels? Mere corrupted dark fallen ones—the vilest breed any cosmos spawned. Remember…"

"Screw you!" I spat as crimson haze overwhelmed my sight, fully possessing me. His lips moved silently now. He hurled one last item amid his muted speech, then darkness claimed my senses and I blacked out.