We made our way to our small town's church, a mere 15-minute walk from our home. Our family resided in Galatino, a quiet town nestled within the vast country of Galatlice. It was a peaceful town with a unique nickname – "The Never Stopping Night" – earned from the countless shops and stalls that remained open from dusk until dawn.
As evening painted the sky, we meandered through the bustling streets, passing a tapestry of stalls displaying their wares. I could sense my family's nervous excitement. We were on our way to the church for a special event that marked a significant moment in every child's life.
"I wonder what Mark will get," my mother, Elisa, said. Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her back.
"I wonder if he'll be a blacksmith like me," my father, David, added. As he mentioned, he was a blacksmith, a profession that had been passed down through generations in our family.
"I hope Mark will have the same job as me," my younger sister, Tiffa, chimed in.
My sister, being a year younger than me, sometimes displayed an air of innocence, unaware of the weight of decisions that lay ahead. I knew, however, that the choice of our future jobs depended on our aptitudes and desires.
Our discussions and chatter carried us to the doors of the church, a simple building from the outside but a majestic hall on the inside, thanks to the clever use of space magic.
"Were you surprised? This is the work of space magic," my father explained with pride.
The church had access to resources many others in our small town lacked, and they didn't hesitate to use them. As we entered the grand hall, a friendly face awaited us.
"Welcome," the pope greeted us. He was a kind elderly man in his seventies.
"Hi, Uncle Sam," I greeted him with a grin, and my sister rushed to hug him.
Indeed, Uncle Sam was no stranger to our family. He often visited our home to look after us when my parents were engrossed in their work. His familiar presence had a calming effect on me, and I felt like I belonged, rather than being an outsider among the adults.
Uncle Sam began a series of prayers, and a soft white light enveloped us. It was a ritual, a way to ensure that the gods bestowed their blessings upon us.
Following the ceremony and some pleasant chatter with Uncle Sam, my family headed home. The walk back was quieter, as the nervous anticipation of the journey to the church was replaced with contemplation about our futures.
Once we arrived home, I headed straight to my room. It was an opportunity for me to examine my options. I switched on the lights, a luxury that most commoners couldn't afford.
I opened my status panel:
Mark Dvan
Age: 5
Job: Undecided
Strength: 5056
Defense: 3023
Stamina: 6045
Speed: 4523
Mana: 3410
Magic Power: 67009
At the tender age of five, my stats were far beyond what was typical for someone of my age. My parents had been training me in their respective trades – my mother was a skilled seamstress, and my father a proficient blacksmith. Both occupations required considerable magical ability, and I had honed my magic power to astounding levels. I had yet to realize how extraordinary my attributes were, as I had no baseline for comparison.
I scrolled through my stats, contemplating the weighty decision that loomed over me. While most children had their hearts set on a specific job by this age, I found myself hesitating. My parents were open to my choice, even if it was a high-class job like that of a god or demon. They had connections that could provide me with mentorship, despite the rarity of such opportunities.
My parents' unwavering support allowed me the freedom to choose my destiny, and I decided to embrace the unknown. Among the list of jobs, one particularly peculiar choice caught my attention. It appeared as a series of symbols that left me perplexed. I selected the enigmatic option, and as I did, the wheels of fate began to turn, little did I know then that my decision would set me on a path far beyond even the constraints of destiny.