The Trickster’s Gambit

As I sat there talking to Garrick, something unexpected happened. I gained a new class: **Trickster**. It wasn't exactly a hero's class, but it meant I was getting stronger. And in a world where the king wanted my head, that was all that mattered. The class felt like a natural evolution of my skills—illusions, misdirection, and a knack for turning the tables. It was perfect for someone like me, who survived by staying one step ahead.

Garrick and I talked for about half an hour. He told me stories of their adventures on the way to defeat the Demon Lord. Tales of battles with towering monsters, narrow escapes from cursed ruins, and the hero's legendary final showdown with the Demon Lord himself. As I listened, a twisted thought crept into my mind: *What if I joined the heroes' party?* It wasn't exactly my idea—it felt like it came from somewhere else, like the shadow whispering in the back of my mind. But I wasn't against it. In fact, it made a strange kind of sense. If I couldn't beat them, why not join them? At least for a while.

So, as Garrick got up to leave and finish his patrol, I decided to take a chance. "Hey, Garrick," I said, leaning forward. "Let me join the party. I won't disappoint you."

Garrick paused, looking me up and down. "You? A street performer? Come on, kid, this is no business for you."

"But I saved that girl," I argued, trying to sound confident. "You said it yourself—I've got quick reflexes. I'm not just some performer."

Garrick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, kid, I'm thankful for what you did, but this is tough work. You could get killed. Why not stick to what you're good at? Make enough coin to survive. No shame in that."

I leaned back, crossing my arms. "There's something about me you're not seeing. Let me show you. Or at least think about it."

Garrick hesitated, then nodded. "Alright, alright. I'll bring your name up. But no promises, got it?"

I grinned, acting thrilled. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret this."

As Garrick walked away, I couldn't help but laugh to myself. My plan was completely selfish—join the heroes, learn their secrets, and use it all to save my own skin. It was a dog-eat-dog world out there, and I wasn't about to be the one getting eaten. But a small part of me wondered if I actually wanted to join them. Maybe it wasn't just about survival. Maybe I wanted to be part of something bigger.

A few days went by, and I stayed in the same spot, hoping to hear something from Garrick. In the meantime, I kept up my act as a street performer, though I had to dodge more questions than usual. People kept pressing me about Ren, the "notorious magician" causing trouble for the king. "You're in the same line of work," they'd say. "You must know something about him."

I'd just shrug and send them the wrong way, occasionally laughing to myself. There was something funny about it—being the most wanted man in the kingdom while standing right in front of them, completely unnoticed.

During one of my shows, I decided to step it up a notch. I pulled out a deck of cards and asked for a volunteer, but no one stepped forward. So, I pretended to trip, falling off the stage. Cards flew everywhere, and just before I hit the ground, I stopped—floating in midair. The cards floated too, spinning around me in a perfect circle. Then, with a flick of my wrist, everything rewound. The cards flew back into my hand, and I landed gracefully on the stage. The crowd erupted into applause, and I bowed, grinning.

Garrick was there, clapping along with the rest. "See?" he said to the three people standing beside him. "I told you he was impressive."

I hopped off the stage and walked over, curious about the newcomers. Garrick introduced them one by one.

*Eldrin, the Arcane Scholar*

First was **Eldrin**, an elven wizard with silver hair that shimmered like moonlight and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. His robes were a deep indigo, embroidered with glowing runes that pulsed faintly with arcane energy. He carried a staff topped with a shimmering crystal that glowed with an inner light, and his movements were precise and deliberate, as if every step was calculated. His class was **Arcane Scholar**, a master of manipulating the elements and weaving complex spells. Eldrin's strength lay in his vast knowledge of magic and his ability to adapt to any situation. He could summon walls of fire, freeze enemies in their tracks, or create barriers of pure energy to protect his allies. His presence was calm and commanding, and he exuded an air of quiet confidence.

Eldrin gave me a curt nod, his expression unreadable. "Impressive trick," he said, his voice smooth and melodic. "But illusions won't save you in a real fight."

I smirked. "Guess I'll have to prove you wrong."

*Tharok, the Berserker*

Next was **Tharok**, a burly orc with green skin and tusks that jutted out from his lower jaw. His massive frame was covered in scars, each one a testament to the battles he'd survived. His armor was a patchwork of leather and steel, designed for maximum mobility and protection. Strapped to his back was a massive axe, its blade etched with runes that glowed faintly with a dark, menacing light. His class was **Berserker**, a warrior who thrived in the heat of battle. Tharok's strength came from his raw power and his ability to enter a state of rage, where his attacks became faster and more devastating. He was a force of nature, capable of cleaving through enemies with ease, but his rage made him unpredictable and difficult to control.

Tharok grinned at me, revealing a gold tooth. "Nice trick, kid," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. "But let's see how you do in a real fight."

I chuckled nervously. "I'll try not to get in your way."

*Lira, the Shadowblade*

Finally, there was **Lira**, a human rogue with sharp features and a mischievous glint in her eye. Her dark hair was tied back in a braid, and her leather armor was dyed black, blending seamlessly with the shadows. She moved with the grace of a predator, her every step silent and deliberate. Strapped to her thighs were a pair of daggers, their blades curved and deadly. Her class was **Shadowblade**, a master of stealth and assassination. Lira's strength lay in her ability to move unseen and strike without warning. She could vanish into the shadows, reappearing behind her enemies to deliver a fatal blow. Her agility and precision made her a deadly opponent, and her sharp wit kept her one step ahead of everyone else.

Lira smirked at me, her eyes narrowing. "So, you're the new recruit," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Try not to slow us down."

I nodded, trying to look confident. "I'll do my best."

Garrick, the Vanguard

Garrick, of course, was the leader of the group. His class was *Vanguard*, a tank who specialized in protecting his allies and drawing enemy fire. His armor was heavy but well-fitted, allowing him to move with surprising speed. His shield was emblazoned with the royal crest, and his sword was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its blade gleaming with a faint golden light. Garrick's strength came from his unwavering resolve and his ability to inspire his team. He was the backbone of the party, the one who kept everyone together and focused on the mission.

Garrick clapped me on the shoulder. "You're in, kid. But listen—one mess-up, and you're out. If you screw up on the field and someone dies, we don't want that. Understand?"

I forced a smile and a laugh, acting thrilled. "Got it. No pressure, right?"

But deep down, I was terrified. Could I really pull this off? I wasn't a hero. I wasn't even a proper magician. I was just a guy with a knack for illusions and a talent for getting into trouble.

As I walked off, Garrick called after me. "Hey, kid! You're part of the group now. We eat together."

I hesitated. "I couldn't possibly eat on your dime again."

Garrick laughed. "It's not my dime. The kingdom supports us. It's the people's money."

I grinned. "Well, in that case, give me a sec. I've got somewhere to be."

Garrick raised an eyebrow. "Don't take too long. Food gets cold."

I hurried to the nearest alleyway, my magic starting to wear off. As soon as I was out of sight, I leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. That was too close.

The shadow appeared again, its glowing eyes staring at me from the darkness. "They almost got you," it said, its voice low and mocking. "But you're in now. Keep playing the game."

I shook my head. "This isn't a game. I could die. They could die."

The shadow chuckled. "But you're the only one that matters. They're just NPCs. The sooner you realize that, the stronger you'll become. That moral compass of yours? It's in the way."

"Stop it," I snapped. "I won't take a life."

The shadow leaned in, its voice a whisper. "Oh, yes, you will. In due time."

Before I could respond, it vanished, leaving me alone in the alley. I stayed there long enough to regain some magic and put my disguise back on. Then I headed to a potion shop, figuring I might as well stock up since I didn't have to pay for food anymore.

The potion shop was a small, cluttered place filled with shelves of colorful bottles and jars. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and magic, and the shopkeeper—a grizzled old man with a long beard—watched me with a wary eye as I browsed the shelves.

I spotted a mask—a simple, elegant piece that could hide my face without magic. I picked it up and asked the shopkeeper how much it was.

"Three hundred coins," he said, not even looking up.

I nearly choked. "Three hundred? That's absurd!"

The shopkeeper shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

I hesitated, then decided to play my new card. "I'm part of the heroes' party, you know."

The shopkeeper finally looked at me, his expression skeptical. "You? Part of the party? Come on, kid, give me a break."

Before I could respond, Garrick walked in. "Hey, kid. You here to get some stuff too?" He handed me a box. "It's your lunch. Didn't want it to get cold."

I took the box, grinning. "Thanks, Garrick."

The shopkeeper's eyes widened. "Wait, you're serious? He's really part of the party?"

Garrick nodded. "Yep. New recruit. So, whatever he's getting, put it on the kingdom's tab."

The shopkeeper's attitude changed instantly. "Of course, of course! Anything else you need, kid?"

I smirked. "No, I couldn't possibly."

Garrick clapped me on the back. "Don't worry about it. It's the people's money. Besides, you're meeting the hero tomorrow. I want you to look nice. Not wearing those rags."

I looked down at my clothes. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Garrick laughed. "Oh, nothing. Just… not my style."

We finished our business in the shop, and I walked away with a bag full of new gear: a white chainmail armor, a crystal for channeling and controlling magic, and a few magic pills for when I ran low on energy. It was more than I'd ever been able to afford before, and I couldn't help but laugh. The kingdom was helping out the very man they called a nuisance. It was hysterical.

But as I walked back to my room, my thoughts raced. Could I really do this? Was I strong enough to keep up with the heroes? And what about the shadow? Was it really a part of me, or was it something else entirely?

It was all too much. But for now, I had a plan. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I might actually have a chance.