With the arrival of a new class, Lyle squinted at its passive ability—and for the first time in a while, found himself genuinely stumped.
"What the hell is this even supposed to be?" he muttered.
The passive skill felt... useless. Or at least, that was his first impression.
"Maybe it makes more sense in the context of the full class tree," he said, shaking his head and focusing on what he really cared about—the active abilities.
If he didn't have to take "Shamanic Adept" in order to learn its exclusive skills, he wouldn't have wasted a precious level just for it.
[Skill: Totem Possession]
Uses: 3 per day (no cost)
Skill Description:
Convert the soul of a beast or monster into a totemic tattoo, branded on one of five locations: legs, back, chest, arms, or head.
Depending on the creature chosen and its placement, gain corresponding base stat enhancements. While inscribing the totem, the user must choose one of two totem paths: Physical Empowerment or Trait Inheritance.
P.S. Physical Empowerment: Each activated totem boosts a selected base stat. Up to five activations may be stacked at once (uses: 3/day).
P.S. Trait Inheritance: Gain one innate ability the creature possessed in life. The number of uses is tied to the original creature's own usage limits.
---
Lyle blinked. Then blinked again.
This was... a lot of information.
He read it through twice, maybe three times, before it all clicked. Most skills in games were short and snappy. This felt like someone had pasted a college thesis into his ability tab.
In most games, the "Shaman" class was a flexible archetype—capable of both melee and ranged combat, support and healing. But more often than not, people built their shamans toward spellcasting or support roles.
The kind of Shaman on display here—like that maniac Zero—was a rare, pure combat variant.
Now that he understood Totemic Possession, Lyle finally realized why Zero could explode with power far beyond his level after activating all five totems.
Still...
What truly surprised Lyle was how the skill didn't just offer raw stat boosts. It actually split into two wildly different combat styles:
[Physical Empowerment]
[Trait Inheritance]
"Trait Inheritance, huh…" Lyle murmured, a glint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Borrowing the natural abilities of beasts and monsters?"
The Physical Empowerment path was already well-demonstrated by "Battle Demon" Zero—brute strength and enhanced body stats.
But Trait Inheritance? That was an entirely different animal. In the world of YGGDRASIL, such a mechanic offered unpredictable and highly customizable gameplay.
"Kinda reminds me of the Forest Priest class," Lyle mused. That one let you channel wild animals for temporary bonuses too, but not with this level of control.
He flipped back to the Shamanic Adept overview.
The more he studied it, the more convinced he became: this wasn't just a stepping-stone mid-tier class. It might actually be a keystone class in the Shamanic system.
The dual-style evolution built into Totemic Possession clearly hinted at two diverging late-game builds. And from what he could tell, both seemed solid.
He felt like he'd scored a hidden jackpot.
Lyle didn't know yet how high the skill's ceiling could go, but its floor was already impressive. Even just the stat boosts made it worth the investment.
"I'll need to try it myself to really get a sense of what the Trait Inheritance path can do…"
Shoving his thoughts aside, he returned to browsing his character panel—his eyes quickly finding a familiar name.
[Skill: Flight (Tier 3)]
MP Cost: 15
Description: Wraps the caster in magical energy, granting the ability to fly. Can also be cast on others.
---
Naturally, this was a parting gift from the dearly departed "Undead King" Davernoch.
Sure, Lyle could already shapeshift into flying beasts using Wild Transformation, but that wasn't true flight. That was "flap like hell and pray." This spell? This was actual air superiority.
[Skill Points: 39]
He'd originally had 40. Spent 3 to unlock Shaman Mentor, but gained another 3 from leveling up.
"Blue Rose isn't the kind of group I can approach casually right now," he muttered.
He glanced toward the window. His gaze sharpened.
"It's time to move on."
From what he knew, the famous adventuring team "Blue Rose" had just completed their mission and would be returning to the capital in a few days.
But he had no intention of sticking around to greet them.
It wasn't that he was impatient—on the contrary. It was because he'd just remembered something important.
There was one member of Blue Rose, not usually listed among the original lineup, who posed a serious problem: the legendary Rigrit, one of the fabled Thirteen Heroes—known as the Controller of the Dead.
A living legend.
Rigrit had been part of Blue Rose longer than most realized, and Lyle suspected her true reason for joining had little to do with heroism and everything to do with politics—specifically, keeping an eye on Lakyus due to ties with her noble family.
Rigrit wasn't just a war hero. She had connections with the Platinum Dragon Lord, and more importantly—she was one of the few people in the world who knew about players.
And right now? Lyle was very much a player walking around in a very non-player world.
He wasn't sure whether Rigrit had already left the group or not. There were two potential clues:
First: if Evileye had already joined Blue Rose. That group had once defeated a kingdom, after which its members merged with Lakyus's team.
Second: whether Gazef had yet received Rigrit's Ring.
Currently, Lyle was sure of one thing: Gazef didn't have that ring yet.
As for the upcoming duel between Leinas and Gazef?
Lyle had zero interest in watching.
No matter the outcome, the goal would be achieved.
9th Month, Day 14 — The Month of Emberfall
Outside his room, Imina stood frowning, tapping her foot as she stared at the silent door.
"…Why hasn't he come out yet?"
She hesitated, then finally pushed the door open.
Empty.
Not a trace of Lyle or his mischievous barghest remained.
"Seriously?!"
"He just dumped all this crap on me and vanished?!" Imina growled, stomping the floor with frustration.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
The sound of footsteps echoed from the staircase.
The mood in the entire inn shifted. A hush fell over the building like a cold wind.
Imina's expression hardened.
She stepped into the hallway, just in time to see three strange and very dangerous-looking figures making their way upstairs.
They stopped when they spotted her—half-elf, tense and watchful. And then, oddly, their expressions flickered with recognition and amusement.
"…Who are you?" she asked cautiously, taking a step back.
The man in front gave a slight bow, voice smooth like a secondhand car salesman trying too hard.
"Miss Thousand-Kill, I'm Succulent, the Phantom Devil," he said with a grin.
"Peshurian," said the second, flat and cold.
"Edström," the third added, his tone unreadable.