The stone platform behind them loomed large, casting long shadows over the valley as Ethan and the other students descended a wide set of uneven stone steps. A deep chill had settled in the air, though whether it came from the mountain range surrounding them or the enormity of their new reality, Ethan couldn't tell.
Ahead of them stretched a long, well-worn road lined with various stations, each marked by signs indicating guilds and factions. Dwarves stood in front of each booth, barking orders and evaluating students as they passed by. Above them, jagged mountain peaks pierced the sky, their snow-covered tips glittering under the faint light of the setting sun. It was a stark, rugged world, and the atmosphere was thick with a mixture of fear and possibility.
Ethan's classmates, transformed into an assortment of fantastical races, were beginning to adjust. Some whispered excitedly to each other, marveling at their new bodies and abilities, while others looked uncertain and overwhelmed. Ethan, however, remained quiet and observant, his thoughts racing as he tried to make sense of it all.
As they reached the base of the stairs, groups began to form. Along the road, signs beckoned students toward different guilds. "Mercenary Guild," "Monster Hunters," "Explorers' League," and "Magic Apprentices" were just a few of the titles emblazoned in bold letters. Each station was manned by recruiters who stood at attention, eyeing the newly summoned students with a mix of curiosity and indifference.
One such recruiter was a towering Centaur, his dark mane flowing down his muscular back. He stood by the mercenary booth, his equine frame heavily armored, with a spear strapped to his side. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, looking for those who had been physically enhanced by the summoning. "Warriors! Those of you with strength and the will to fight, step forward! We'll train you to battle the monsters that plague these lands!" His voice boomed like thunder, drawing the attention of students whose new forms hinted at combat prowess.
Greg, now transformed into a hulking Orc, let out a booming laugh. "This is where the real action is," he declared, strutting toward the Centaur. His green skin gleamed under the light, and his large tusks jutted out from his lower jaw as he flexed his thick, muscular arms. He wasn't the only one. Several other students with Beastkin features—fur-covered arms, sharpened claws, and glowing eyes—followed him eagerly.
The Centaur watched them approach with a critical eye, motioning for each to display their physical abilities. Greg, ever the show-off, grabbed the spear offered by the recruiter and spun it clumsily before stabbing it into the ground. "Ready to fight anything you throw at me," Greg boasted.
The Centaur, unimpressed but satisfied with Greg's bulk and enthusiasm, nodded and directed him to join the others who had already been chosen. Several more students were called forward, flexing their newly acquired muscles or showcasing their animalistic traits, while the Centaur assessed their potential for combat.
Ethan, watching from a distance, felt a pang of anxiety. The urge to jump into the fray, to find his place in this new world, was strong, but he knew better. Greg might be gung-ho about his new abilities, but Ethan had always been more strategic. Charging into battle without knowing what you were up against was a surefire way to get killed.
Still, the pull toward something more powerful gnawed at him.
Further down the road, the "Magic Apprentices" booth caught his eye. A group of Elves stood near the booth, their silver hair shimmering in the soft light. Above their hands hovered glowing orbs of magic, shifting between hues of blue, red, and gold as they concentrated. The recruiter, a thin, ethereal-looking Elf with unnaturally long fingers, assessed each student with piercing, almost otherworldly eyes.
"Magic is not simply power," the Elf recruiter said softly, though his voice carried with ease. "It is knowledge, control, and the connection between you and the energy that flows through all things. Step forward, and we will test your affinity."
The process was quick and intuitive. One by one, students approached, extending their hands toward the glowing orb that floated above the Elf's palm. The orb would flicker and change color in response, glowing brightly for some and dimming for others. Those with strong affinities to magic would feel the pull immediately, a natural bond between themselves and the unseen forces around them. It wasn't training, but rather, a test of capacity—an instinctive connection to magic, not yet refined.
Ethan found himself drawn to it. The allure of magic was undeniable. He could feel the energy in the air, something deep inside him itching to reach out, to grasp that power and bend it to his will. Magic had always fascinated him, even back in his own world. The idea of wielding forces that could alter reality, to shape the world around him through sheer will and control, was intoxicating.
But that was precisely the problem.
The students who passed the test were immediately surrounded by onlookers, their magical abilities putting them in the spotlight. The Elf recruiter carefully measured their magical capacities, scribbling notes onto scrolls and discussing options for training, while the students basked in the attention. It was clear that those who showed promise with magic would receive significant support and, likely, expectations.
Ethan wasn't ready for that kind of attention. Not yet.
As much as he wanted to test his own affinity, he held back. He needed time to understand this world, to understand his system. If he drew too much attention too soon, he might lose the very thing that gave him an advantage: the ability to work in the shadows.
Ethan's attention shifted again, this time to his former professor. The older man, who had been teaching them about sedimentary layers only hours earlier, now stood at the end of the road near the "Explorers' League" booth. His transformation had been subtle—he remained mostly human, though his skin had taken on a weathered, stone-like texture, as though the earth itself had claimed him. A fitting change for a geologist.
The professor looked out of place among the more boisterous and excited students, his demeanor calm and contemplative. He spoke with the recruiter, a Satyr with curling horns and an easy smile, who handed him a map. The professor nodded solemnly, clearly considering the offer of exploration. Ethan wondered if the man was eager to see what lay beyond the safety of the kingdom's walls.
Ethan pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the next booth.
The "Mines of Gralheim" booth was quiet compared to the others, but something about it appealed to Ethan. The sign above the table was worn, the letters etched into stone and framed by a pickaxe and a gleaming gem. The dwarves here were different from the recruiters at the more combat-oriented stations. They weren't loud or boisterous. Instead, they were methodical, their eyes sharp as they evaluated each student who approached.
"Identification and mining skills," one of the dwarves barked, his gravelly voice carrying with ease. He held a stone clipboard in one hand, flipping through names and records. "We need sharp eyes and a steady hand. Can ye tell the difference between rock and treasure? If you've got an affinity for the earth, step up!"
A girl with bark-like skin approached the dwarf, her eyes wide as she nervously stepped forward. She had been transformed into a Nymph, her limbs covered in patches of moss and her skin rough like tree bark. The dwarf eyed her critically. "Wood-touched, are ye? More suited for tending the fields and greenhouses. Ye won't last long down in the mines." The girl was redirected to another station, her shoulders sagging slightly as she shuffled away.
Ethan watched carefully, observing how the dwarves assessed each student, their eyes darting over forms and features, making quick but accurate judgments about where each person would be most useful. There was no room for error in the mines, no place for those who couldn't contribute.
When his turn came, Ethan stepped forward, his heart beating slightly faster than usual. The dwarf recruiter looked him up and down, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Ethan's pale skin and faintly glowing blue eyes.
"Sylven, eh?" the dwarf muttered, scratching his beard. "Earth-bound folk. We've got some of yer kind workin' the deeper veins."
Ethan nodded slightly, not wanting to give away too much. The dwarf pressed a stone tablet to Ethan's chest, and the runes carved into the surface glowed faintly. The device scanned him much like the registration tablet had, and for a brief moment, Ethan worried that his system would interfere. But the interface remained silent, and the tablet flashed once.
"Ability: Identify," the dwarf read aloud, his voice gruff but approving. "Not bad. We always need someone who can tell treasure from trash."
Ethan exhaled softly, relieved that his true abilities remained hidden. He kept his expression neutral, playing the part of someone eager to work but not to stand out. "I've got experience with geology," he said simply.
The dwarf grunted. "Good. No need for heroes down there. Just solid workers. Ye'll fit right in." He pointed toward the entrance of a large stone archway set into the side of the mountain. "Head down to the entrance. They'll get ye sorted with the others."
Ethan nodded and made his way toward the mines, his mind buzzing with thoughts of magic, power, and the strange new world he had found himself in.