Soon, Remi found another important piece of Terran Internet: Deezcord. A place that she was able to communicate with her fellow degenerates, and talk about her crazy ideas as well as prompt outputs over tens of millions of light years. Of course, her divine powers do not reach the other side, and she was just another regular user on the Internet.

Deezcord worked like this. There are servers, and within each server there are channels. Each channel have a topic or theme, and there are users talking about things related to that topic.

Remi joined not only the novel-writing AI's official server but also other writers community servers. And it was the same day Remi found a rather interesting rant about an explicit comic book from the Far East.

"Hmm... Maybe I can use this as an initial prompt," she thought.

And so, she did. Let's see what she created!

---

Color Legends: Orange: Original Prompt. Default: AI Generated. Blue: Manually Written.

> gets cucked by a level 100 adventurer

> becomes addicted to masturbation

> complains about getting no bitches

> is level 17

> has no class

Yeah, I can see the problem.

For the record, I'm level 32, and a Bard. Still getting my first good equipment, though. My party has a cleric and a ranger with some sweet magical weapons, and a thief who's really good at sneaking and opening locks and stuff. But the new porter who is currently blabbering about his lore that is probably seventeen pages long, not so much. And that's not the first time he's done this.

"You know," the level-17 porter says, "my mom is a barmaid, and she always used to tell me, 'Billy, you ain't nothing special.' She's right, of course. No one is. You know what I mean?"

I am sitting in a chair in the corner of the guildhall, drinking ale, and listening to Billy's another round of rambles.

"Yeah," I say.

"So why am I even trying?" he asks.

"I dunno."

"I don't have any talent, or skills, or anything. And I'm not good-looking, either. I've been cucked, man. It hurts, you know? By that heartless bitch. It's like I have this big hole in my soul. I think that's why I'm a porter. It's something to fill the emptiness."

"Well," I say, "you could get a class. Like, a real class. Warrior, mage, whatever that works."

"But you don't get to choose one! What if the class I got is utter crap, like being an accountant?"

I facepalmed and said, "But at least they have actual skills. Blessings from the goddesses. You have none."

"Well, maybe there's another option. Maybe I can do something else entirely. Become a poet or a bard like you. Write a song or two. That way, when I'm dead, I can at least get some girls in the afterlife."

"But I have bard skills. You don't. Not skill skills, but skills that you spend mana to activate."

"I know, dude, I know. I've seen the bards around town. They have these big instruments. You're no different. But... I have a guitar. It's a good one, too."

"No. Not the instruments. Your songs won't have buff effects if you aren't using a skill."

"What if I do use a skill, though? Can't I just activate it when I'm singing?"

"You can't use bard spells without having a bard class. That's why I said to go to the damn temple and roll. Who knows if you get to be a guitarist?"

"I know! But I have the guitar."

I sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry, man. I know how it feels. When you're at the bottom, it feels like the only way out is to give up. To die. I get it. I've been there."

"I know! You're like the only person who has ever given me any help! You're the first person to show me kindness, man. You're my hero. I wish I could repay you."

I shrugged and said, "That's fine. Just get some sleep and figure out what you want to do tomorrow. Go on, dude. I'll see you around."

He nodded and left the guild.

"Good luck, man," I said.

He closed the door and disappeared into the night.

I and the ranger looked each other in the eyes and shook our heads in tandem. He knows. I know. We both know. The level-17 classless porter who got cucked by a level 100 adventurer, gets addicted to masturbation, complains about getting no bitches, and don't fucking want to get a class ever.

Who knows if he went off to masturbate. I don't want to know. Nobody wants to know. Maybe that elven guild receptionist with peculiar tastes behind counter three would be interested, but that's non of my business.

The ranger and I finished our drinks and parted ways.

The next day, level-17 porter Billy didn't come to the guild. The next next day , the next next next day, and the next next next next day too.

He still didn't show up. I wondered where he was. Was he dead? Was he masturbating?

On the sixth day, he finally came. He came back from the temple. He was still a level 17 porter.

"Hey, man," I said. "How'd it go?"

"I'm level 17," he said.

"You gotta be level 20 to get a class if you missed the level 10 window. But you gain the odds to pull a high-ranked class."

"I know, man, I know. But, the priest told me that the goddesses are not very happy with me."

"You complain too much."

"Yeah. Anyway, I'll try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next."

"Go raise your level."

Sadly, Billy never showed up at the guild from that day onwards. I made a bet with our ranger that he would show up within a week complaining and being level 17 again, but guess what? He did not show up.

He probably masturbated himself to death.

And I lost 5 silver coins to the bet.

"This is bullshit," I complained.

"It is," said the ranger.

"I hope that elven guild receptionist got a boner and jerked off to Billy's story," I said.

The ranger nodded. "I know, man, I know."

We both knew. Everyone knew. Billy was a level 17 porter who didn't get cucked by a level 100 adventurer and didn't get addicted to masturbation and didn't get no bitches and didn't have no class.

THE END.

---

Remi chuckled like a maniac when she placed down "the end" in all caps.

"Man, who could have thought that final paragraph was soooo perfect? The AI sure knows its shit," she mused.

"Now, time to post it somewhere. Let's call it, The Level 17 Porter."

And so, she did.