"What?" Deacon said, the word coming out flatter than shock should have allowed, his brain stalling for half a second before his mouth caught up and repeated it. "Three hundred and– what years ago? But, how?"
"… But shouldn't I be–" the sentence fractured because the conclusion was obvious, the only logical answer was that he shouldn't be here at all. "Dead? The oldest man was that guy with that life-stealing artifact, who died at a hundred and–"
Bjorn held up one hand, palm open, not to silence him, but to keep him from tangling himself in the question before Bjorn could lay the groundwork. "I'll explain all of that in a bit, just… go with me for now, alright?" His tone wasn't condescending, but steady and direct in a way that told Deacon pushing on the question right now would only slow what he actually wanted.
Deacon exhaled once through his nose, a sharp, controlled breath, and nodded. "…Sorry."
"You know of the Age of Tongues, right?" Bjorn asked, lowering his voice.
Deacon wet his dried lips and nodded because, of course he knew; everyone who passed the Academy exams did. "Yeah."
"That's the term historians use for the era when the races pulled into the Tower, along with those already living on the Floors, finally learned to communicate with one another," Deacon recited, the words coming out the same way he'd written them for his history exam. "It took decades of brutal conflict that reduced the population to less than a fourth of its original number before diplomacy became remotely possible."
Bjorn nodded at Deacon's words before urging him to continue.
"Yes," he said, "but do you know when it happened? And who were the major players at the time?"
Deacon frowned because the date was simple enough to remember. "The Age of Tongues began in the year 034, on New Year's Day. The major factions at the time were the Human settlements, which were made up of many of the noble houses that are still around today: El-Hindi, Martinez, Garcia, Liu, and Ross. The Elven Courts were led by Lythienne and Elyon, the High Elf twins. The Claws, which consisted of the beastkin races, were ruled by Tyr, the Eagle Beastkin. And the Undead Coffin, which consisted of every undead in the Tower and answered to the Necromancer Knight, Sid."
"Once the races were finally able to communicate, the four factions agreed to a ceasefire, and that became the basis for the treaties that—" Deacon continued, but was interrupted by his uncle.
"Yes," Bjorn cut in. He'd heard the academy version too many times to sit through it again. "According to historian consensus, the Tower back then was always in constant conflict to where the time before them was called the Age of Blood. When back then it was cheaper to drink blood than water, because there was so much of it on the ground. A single week of fighting could leave enough blood to fill a river. Where trust might have as well been something from out of a fairy tale. When, if you ran into someone you didn't know, didn't look like you, or someone who spoke a different language than you, your only choice back then was to kill the person on sight without hesitation – fear ruled over everyone. And it transformed even the sweetest of grandmothers into devils that would have had the devil become a sobbing mess upon being locked in a room with one of 'em."
Deacon nodded slowly, harshly swallowing his saliva at the sudden harshness and dark undertone of his uncle's voice.
"But that was all a lie," his uncle said plainly. "Well… the inability for people back then to pick up languages was a lie, but life back then was really shit."
Deacon's brows pulled together sharply. "What?"
"By year 05," Bjorn began. "The average person could already speak at least three of the known main languages with the same skill as someone who grew up with the language, because when you're thrown into a life-or-death environment with strangers who might be the only reason you don't die that day, your brain learns to adapt real fucking fast. And this so-called language barrier that people had around them became as thin as paper." He said plainly as he reached, without looking, for one of the half-full glasses left on the holo-table and took a slow drink from it, the amber liquid catching the faint blue projection-light from the trial feed.
"By year 09, Floor Thirty-Nine had already been reached and every race that can climb the Tower today had already been found and synced with the System, save for a couple of stragglers like the one that your group and others of your generation has found, but I digress as they are humans, all the known races that are widespread were all known and Identified by then."
"And that's twenty-five years before any historical texts claim linguistic stabilization occurred – hell, to this day, the big boys are still peddling the bullshit that the highest Floor ever to be reached is Floor Thirty-Four." Bjorn continued, placing the glass back down with a dull clink. "The Age of Tongues was all a cover-up for what truly happened during the Age of Blood."
Deacon didn't interrupt; instead, he remained silent as his own doubts that he had built up were finally getting validated. To him, prior to him learning about his father still being alive, it sounded impossible that after three centuries, not a single person had been able to clear the Tower, as with the sheer number of people living in the Upper Floors, they should have been able to overpower the Floors by force and clear through it.
"And during then," Bjorn continued, "the inherent traits, strengths, and shortcomings of every race in the Tower were common knowledge to anyone who reached Floor Twenty-Five and Tiered Up."
"Humans were known to be the most balanced of the myriad of races within the Tower, as they face no inherent disadvantages or advantages of any other race – flexible stat growth and able to pursue any path they wanted. You can give one a sword and they can become a swordsman, you can give one a staff and they could become a wizard, and you can give one a hammer and they could become a blacksmith; they can choose to have a Combat Class, a Production Class, or a Support Class and the same with their Professions, and not face any limitations in that regard. Which is why humanity is the dominant race in the Tower."
Deacon nodded in agreement. Humans were the most common race to find anywhere and everywhere, and he'd originally based countless plans on where he should allocate his stat points and which types of paths he would be able to peruse for when he'd Tier Up and how that would be incorporated with the Racial skills he would have for when he thought he was a human.
"The people of Murim," Bjorn continued, rolling the tension out of his shoulder as he grabbed a second half-filled glass of brandy, "are much like humans in regards to their stat allocation for their race level ups and life span, but they do not have any mana coursing through them. Instead, they have an energy called Qi, which is a mix of life and spiritual energy - something they created and cultivate in their own bodies as an alternative to mana. And much to their annoyance, the other races can also create and cultivate Qi so long as they wish their paths to be on the Qi route. As such, in comparison to the humans, the mighty people of Murim face quite heavy limitations in what they can choose for their first and second Class or Class and Profession, with mana being out of their ability to control."
I didn't know that, Deacon thought to himself as he watched his uncle place back down the empty glass onto the holo table beside the previous one and picked up the third and last half-filled glass of brandy.
"In comparison to those two who are the two largest races in the Tower," Bjorn said, "the Angels have a much higher lifespan, where a Tier 1 human would live up to 100 years on average so long as nothing happened to them, an angel would live up to two hundred, third highest lifespan as a Tier 1 with elves taking the top with four hundred and fifty."
"What the fuck?" Deacon slipped out of his mouth as his eyes went wide. "They can live up to four hundred and fifty?"
Bjorn chuckled at Deacon's answer, nodding as he quickly finished up his drink and placed it back on the table to continue where he left off. "Along with their innate ability to be able to fly. Their stat distribution is mainly towards their Vitality, Dexterity, and their magical attributes, however. While they do have the ability to be able to manipulate and hold mana within their bodies, they have a limitation in that they can only use Light or Holy Magics. Any other type of magic is impossible for them to control, create, or hold, which you can put two and two together and figure out how that factors into their Classes or Class and Profession possibilities."
"And I know you're wondering where I'm going with all this," Bjorn said, and Deacon gave a small shrug that doubled as acknowledgment and invitation to continue.
"The jötunar, us two, are very similar to humans in that we face no limitations in what we can choose for our Classes or Professions. While our stat distribution is quite focused on our physical atrributes and magic resistance, that is only for our Tier 1 state, by the time we reach Tier 2 we also gain stats for our magical attributes in tandem with our physical ones; Tier 2 gives us +5 to Vit, a +4 to Str, End, and Will and +1 to Agi, Int, Wis, Per; which is quite different in comparison to the myriad of races within and out of the Tower." Bjorn said.
Deacon's expression flickered from confused to one mixed with disbelief. "But… how?" he asked. "I've never heard of when a race getting Tiered Up that their level-ups give points into attributes that they weren't being leveled to start with in their previous Tier."
"I don't know," Bjorn shrugged. "That's up to the System."
"However, what I do know is this," Bjorn continued. "When a Jötunn reaches Tier 2, we stop receiving Free Points per level in our race. But I personally don't think that's a bad trade as I use my magic just as much as my own blades."
Deacon blinked at his uncle's answer.
That… actually wasn't terrible. He always ended up dumping his own Free Points into his mental attributes to ensure that his spells would be able to keep up with his fighting style.
"So, do we have any limitations like Angels or the people of Murim?" Deacon asked.
"We do," Bjorn said. "Only one."
Deacon leaned forward slightly without realizing he did.
Bjorn smiled wryly. "Just like the Elves, it is very difficult for our kind to produce children. Even with those of other races."
"Oh," Deacon said, and the sound came out smaller than he intended, his face warming slightly in embarrassment.
Bjorn reached out and ruffled Deacon's hair, careful of the bandages. "Why, is there a little Hayes running about that I don't know about?"
He chuckled as Deacon pushed his hand off of his head and muttered, "Fuck off," to Bjorn, who laughed at his reaction for a bit before quieting down.
"Now," Bjorn continued, voice settling deeper and steadier. "Onto the meat of things — the reason I'm telling you all this; the reason why our race was hunted down to just us two within the Tower, why your father had no choice but to put you in stasis for centuries, and what we can do about it so that the both of us can to milk the Tower dry and get revenge for the death of our people."