Today is the day.
Yep, it is the day. What day is it if one might ask?
Today is the day that I will receive my occupation. A blessing from the gods that grant us mortals what we should do.
There's a lot of topic about it in the academy, and I have attended all of those seminars as well as debates. Why does the gods give us mortals jobs when we could just do something like----
How do I say this....Ah! There's that.
If a person was given the occupation of being a blacksmith, then why can others also do the same thing as that blacksmith? Smithing weapons is an art, the art of creating deadly and defensive weapons. Smithing also covers the art of creating armor from leather to metal.
The difference between someone with the occupation BLACKSMITH and someone who just makes blades, armors, and shields is that BLACKSMITHS can enhance the quality of their creation. To put it simply, it is a much efficient job that makes better stuff.
Another case would be the FARMER.....but one gets the difference when given the first example.
In short, the individuals who were given by the gods their occupation can do more than those who were not. It is that simply. For the farmer, they can have more yields.
If a FARMER plants grains, they have a chance to double their yield from one wheat stalk. It is that broken, but at the same time there are...how do I say this again...limitations with the occupation.
There are occupations that are specialized, in which no one can try and imitate what that person could do. A great example of this are individuals who were given the occupation of "HERO" and "DEMONKING".
[Clothes....not dirty but not clean. Well, this much is fine, isn't it?]
I asked myself as I looked at the mirror. In front of me is my reflection. A black haired young man with brown eyes. Just a generic commoner, no more no less.
Today is my 15th birthday. I could smell good smelling food being cooked downstairs, that suggests one thing.
[Good morning, Alter!] My father, Allan, busts out from the door hugging my by the neck.
[I ca---nt breathe]
[Today is the day where your fate will be sealed forever. Are you ready for the blessing ceremony?]
[I----about to pass-----------ut]
My father is quite strong. What occupation does he have? He has LUMBERJACK.
His arms were nearly as thick as the trunk of a pine tree, and he's quite stout. He's just a tad bit shorter than me as i am just a tall child right from childhood.
[Finally... air...] I gasped as Father let me go, giving my back a hearty slap that nearly sent me flying out the room.
[Haha! That's the spirit! A real man should take a little squeeze without whining.]
[That wasn't a squeeze, that was a bear trap!]
He just laughed and walked out the door, his heavy footsteps echoing through the old wooden floors. I took one last look in the mirror, adjusted the collar of my shirt, and gave myself a nod. Not too shabby for someone about to have his whole future decided by divine intervention.
Breakfast was already laid out by the time I got downstairs. Freshly baked bread, smoked ham, a few fried eggs, and something sweet-smelling bubbling in a pot—probably berry jam. My younger sister, Lila, was already stuffing her face while Mother hummed a tune and stirred the pot.
[There he is, the birthday boy!] My Mother, Mari, wearing an worn out woven apron beamed as she saw me come downstairs.
[Eat up, big bro! You'll need a full belly before the gods give you a job you'll regret forever,] Lila added with a wicked grin, cheeks full like a squirrel as she stuffed her mouth with breakfast.
[That's very comforting lil sis, thanks.] She's really as sarcastic as ever. But whose to complain, she's my little sister. That's typical sibling behavior.
I sat down and joined them, trying not to let the nerves creep in. Everyone acted like it was just another day, but I knew the truth. This was the day. The day that separates dreams from reality. The day you either become something great... or just something.
[Nervous?] Mother asked as she put a plate of food in front of me with worry on her eyes.
[A bit, but who wouldn't be, mom? I mean what if i get a disappointing occupation? What if I get something not cool?]
[Something you would regret forever?]
[Thanks for reminding me, Lila]
[Shush now. The gods won't give you anything like that, especially since you have been a good son your entire life] It's a bit embarrassing if she says it like that, but I have been an obedient kid....but a bit rebellious at times as far as I have remembered.
After eating breakfast, I left the house with a lot of thoughts on my mind.
The blessing ceremony was held at the central plaza, near the Grand Tree. They say the gods first descended from the heavens through its branches—though it looks like any old oversized tree to me. Still, it's tradition.
The plaza was packed with other fifteen-year-olds, some fidgeting, some grinning with confidence. I recognized a few from the academy—Elric the loudmouth, Marla with her twin braids and permanent scowl, and—
[Hey, Alter!]
And there he is. My best friend, Ryn. Blonde hair, sharp green eyes, and the kind of smile that could convince an old man to hand over his cane but with one piece of candy as a souvenir. We'd grown up together, trained together, and now we stood side by side waiting to see who we were meant to become.
He looks quite girly for being a boy due to his looks, despite that he is a boy.
[Nervous?] I asked.
[Only a little. I just hope I don't get something dumb like... 'STABLE BOY'.] He quipped.
[I think that's not even a real occupation, I hope I won't get anything close to that]
[Exactly! Which makes it scarier!]
We both chuckled, but the tension in the air was undeniable. One by one, names were called, and each person would step forward, place their hand on the divine stone, and receive a glowing sigil on their palm—the mark of their occupation.
Elric got SWORDSMAN and pumped both fists into the air like he'd just conquered a dragon. Marla got BATTLE PRIESTESS, which honestly suited her perfectly. More kids were called, each stepping away with either relief, surprise, or in rare cases... tears.
[Ahahahaha! I got MAGE] Ryn, stood there with his fist in the air celebrating what he got.
Well it is MAGE. That is like one of the generic but rare occupation within the world.
[Alter Granwill.]
My name rang out like thunder in my ears. It is now my turn.
I stepped forward.
Everything slowed down. The crowd, the noise, even my own heartbeat.
The divine stone stood atop a marble pedestal, pulsating gently with a warm, blue light. I reached out my hand. Ryn looked at me, nodding at me.
[Please... just don't be something useless.]
My fingers touched the stone.
Light burst forth. A searing warmth crawled up my arm, and then—something strange. Chains came out of the stone and wrapped around me.
[What is!?]
[Wa!!!!!]
Like invisible coils wrapping themselves around me. My eyes widened as the air shimmered.
The crowd gasped.
I looked down.
On my palm, glowing with a deep silver hue, was a mark unlike any I had ever seen before—an intricate emblem shaped like interlocking chains looked like a full arm tattoo which also encircled a glowing eye at the back of my hand.
The priest stepped forward, squinting at the inscription.
[Occupation: CHAIN MEISTER??]
A hush fell over the crowd. Then whispers.
[Chain Meister? What's that?]
[Is that... even real?]
[I've never heard of it before...]
Murmurs erupted as the event ended without anyone being hurt or affected. Even the priest seemed unsure, flipping through his old leather-bound book of occupations, fingers twitching.
[Well this... this is not in the standard registry,] he muttered.
I turned to look at Ryn, who stared at me wide-eyed.
[Well, at least it's not "Stable Boy",] I said, trying to joke. My voice came out shakier than I intended.
[You always have to be the weird one, huh, Alter?] he grinned, but there was worry in his eyes.
[CHAIN MEISTER...] I repeated under my breath, clenching my hand into a fist. The mark pulsed once, faintly, as if it responded to my thoughts.
Something about it didn't feel like just a job, well it is what it is.
It is a god given gift, as if there is someone to complain to.