The students buzzed with anticipation, chatting animatedly amongst themselves in the rustic, sun-dappled space. Some stood in small clusters while others leaned against the rough bark of trees, their eyes never leaving the center of the grounds.
As spring gracefully transitioned into summer, the air underwent a subtle but significant metamorphosis. The crisp, cool air of spring was replaced by a balmy warmth that seemed to permeate everything, from the mossy ground beneath to the vibrant leaves on the trees overhead. The heat of the day seemed to linger longer, as if the sun was hesitant to relinquish its hold on the world, leaving the air heavy with an intoxicating blend of fresh blooms and earthy scents.
The training ground was a place of raw energy and fierce determination, alive with the sound of clashing weapons and the rhythmic thud of pounding feet. The ground was uneven and rocky, with hills and dips providing natural cover and obstacles. Overgrown roots twisted underfoot like ancient serpents, while tall grasses brushed against the students' legs, whispering secrets as they trained.
"How's your training going?" asked Cain, his eyes crinkling with curiosity as he looked at Osric.
"Not bad, not bad at all. Just working on the basics, refining my technique," Osric told Cain, as he went through some light stretching exercises to loosen his taut muscles.
"You should have come with us. I've been beating Cain every single day for weeks," Glucia chimed in, her voice teasing and light as she made a swift punching motion in the air.
"That's wholly inaccurate. You're bending the truth, as usual," Cain replied, rolling his eyes with mock exasperation.
"Come on then, why don't you try landing a punch on me? Show Osric how good you are!" Glucia challenged, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"I'd rather save my strength for actual training," Cain replied, his tone cool and collected.
"We are on training grounds, anything we do is technically training. Come on, I believe in you," Osric encouraged, unable to resist joining in on the friendly banter.
"Well," Cain exclaimed, ready to retort when he caught sight of a group entering the training grounds, "I would love to, but they're here," he said, pointing at the newcomers.
As they stepped onto the training ground, the team of five drew the undivided attention of everyone present. A hush fell over the area as the students' excitement became palpable, their faces lighting up with awe and admiration.
"That's Gio! Oh my god, when they said upperclassmen were coming to teach us, I did not think it was going to be Gio and his elite team!" one of the students whispered excitedly to a friend, her voice barely containing her enthusiasm.
Gio was the only son of the venerable village chief, a charismatic figure who held the hearts of the villagers in his hands. The village was governed by a system of ranks and factions, with associations and councils playing a significant role in the decision-making process.
Associations were primarily composed of Rank 1 practitioners, ambitious people eager to prove their worth. The leaders of these associations were usually Rank 2, guiding their members.
The council was mainly made up of Rank 2 practitioners who held the responsibility of the village's governance in their hands. They were guided and supervised by Rank 3 elders, who oversaw the council meetings and ensured the village's interests were always prioritized.
The esteemed title of "Elder" could only be claimed once a practitioner reached Rank 3. These figures were, in turn, overseen by the Village Chief, a position that typically went to the strongest and most capable elder.
Despite the meritocratic nature of the title, the Kuznetsov faction had managed to hold onto it for generations, their iron grip on power seemingly unbreakable.
Gio, as the chief's son, was seen as the heir apparent by many of the village's factions, and his progress was a source of both envy and admiration. He had achieved the remarkable feat of becoming a Rank 1 practitioner before his 18th birthday, having only spent a mere eight months in the process of refinement.
With a confident stride and an air of authority, Gio addressed the gathered students. "Hello, everybody. Hope you all are having fun," he announced, his muscular frame commanding attention even from a distance.
His fiery red hair framed his chiseled features, and his big, bright smile lit up his entire face. His chest was broad and powerful, and his legs thick and sturdy, providing a solid foundation for his powerful movements. Despite being a reputable figure, he wore clothes for practicality rather than show. His shirt was made of rough, sturdy material that was well-suited for the rigors of the hunt. It was a deep forest green, blending seamlessly into the surrounding foliage, and was adorned with a series of brass buttons that glinted in the sunlight.
"Today, I have been told to instruct you, folks, before the awakening ceremony in 2 days. I know you have a lot on your mind, so me and my team are here to help ya out!" he spoke with a hearty smile.
The students eagerly gathered closer, their eyes bright with anticipation as they listened intently to the words of their upperclassmen.
"Awakening is a fun process. I am pretty sure the teachers went over that, so I am going to skip the useless jabber," he spoke, his eyes peering through the crowd. "Instead, what I am going to talk about is what comes after."
"You get more chores," proclaimed Baron, one of the members of Gio's group. He was a short-haired, chubby guy with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Gio chuckled. "Well, Baron is correct. You get more responsibilities from the village. So far, you all have been living in protection, so when you awaken and start refining, you are officially adults. You are going to have to hunt for your own resources. To do that, you have to take missions from the village and help around the village."
"Now, where was I?"
"Doing your job incompetently. Going off track again. Stick to the planned information," a voice commanded Gio from his group. The speaker, Lionel, had black hair cascading down his shoulders in thick waves. His dark eyes were intense and piercing,
"Lionel, improv is my style. Being told what to teach makes me feel like a grass puppet," Gio sighed, a hint of exasperation tinting his voice.
Lionel didn't respond; he simply stood still, his gaze boring into Gio, silently urging him to do his job.
"Alright, alright," Gio relented, a note of seriousness entering his tone for the first time. "After awakening and completing your refinement, it will finally be time for the ritual that propels you to the next stage of your practitioner journey."
"To complete a ritual, there are three essential components: a potion, the materials for the ceremony, and certain conditions that must be met. Depending on your desired job, these conditions will vary."
"And for those with somewhat lesser intelligen—" Gio began.
"Like you," Lionel interjected snidely from the back, lounging lazily near a tree, a sardonic grin playing on his lips.
""Haha, very funny," Gio retorted, a playful smirk gracing his face as he took the teasing in stride. "these are not your run-of-the-mill occupations. They've been called many things over the years: vocations, pledges, deity's blessings, and so on We simply refer to them as jobs. However, it's crucial to understand that Ranked Jobs and regular jobs are entirely different entities. If someone claims to be a butcher, don't be alarmed. But if they're a Rank 1 Butcher, well, I implore you to run," Gio explained, his voice filled with a hint of amusement.
The students nodded in understanding, their eyes wide with intrigue.
"Here's the most fascinating part: there are always subtle variations within a job," Gio continued.
"Boronthal, step out," he called, beckoning to a lithe and agile hunter armed with a bow from his group.
"Me and Boronthal share the same job. We are both Rank 1 Emberkin," Gio revealed, adding an air of mystique to his words.
Osric listened intently, enraptured by the concept of this power system that had evolved over thousands of years. Although he had read some information on the subject in the library, it paled in comparison to witnessing the real thing.
"Despite our shared job title, we have different variations within the Ember pathway," Gio elaborated.
Suddenly a black flame blazed in his Gio's hand buring with intensity.
A black flame suddenly sprang to life in Gio's hand, burning with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and terrifying. "I have gained the innate ability to create these flames. However, the moment they leave my hand," he tossed the black bundle of flames into the air, where it vanished as if it had never existed, "they dissipate."
"Boronthal, on the other hand, is a bit different from me. His job functions somewhat differently from mine. While my abilities are tailored for close-quarters combat, his is the inverse."
Boronthal confidently brandished his bow, notching an arrow and aiming at a distant tree. A black burst of flame materialized on the arrowhead before it was launched with deadly precision. The arrow struck the tree, igniting it in a fierce blaze.
The students stared at the spectacle, their faces filled with wonder and awe.
"Of course, we have more abilities than just these, but some must remain secret as our trump cards," Gio continued. "Depending on the variation of your job and the application of your innate abilities, you'll find that you're quite distinct from anyone else."
He paused for a moment, looking around at the attentive students. "Any questions?"
Silence hung in the air as no one dared to speak up.
"Great. Now, here's the most important part: based on these variations, your professional pay will also vary," he proclaimed, delving deeper into the intricacies of the job system.