Balasyer stepped forward slowly, took the boy's hand, and couldn't believe his eyes.
"F-Five stars! S-Sword Saint!"
"Wow!"
"No way!"
The crowd burst into cheers at the revelation.
The only one who showed no reaction was the boy's brother, still kneeling on the ground.
*Tap*
*Tap*
Without hesitation, Balasyer moved toward the second brother, placing a firm hand on the young man's shoulder.
This time, his eyes narrowed.
I'm sorry, kid...
And he delivered the verdict.
"One star. Woodcutter."
_____________
*Moments earlier*
Dozens of cards rained down from the sky, hovering just in front of Rayliar's face.
He quickly glanced over the tarot cards, passing them one by one as the weight of reality pressed down on him, crushing his heart.
H-How could this be?! They're all one star!
The bare minimum.
Nothing special.
No hope.
Once more, he went through the cards one by one.
Until his gaze landed on a single card, different from the rest: the only one with a dark silhouette among them all.
⭐️
_____________
Job:
Woodcutter
_____________
A man whose virtue lies in hard work. None are as skilled as he in felling what surrounds him. Slowly, even a mere woodcutter can bring down the tallest tree.
_____________
*Present moment*
"Well then, I guess there's no point in wasting any more time."
Clarence's voice cut through coldly as he approached the two brothers.
"Morlowe, I formally invite you to join the Royal Academy. What do you say?"
For a brief moment, the young man's eyes lit up, only to grow dim.
"I-I... I can't..."
He stammered.
Unconsciously, Morlowe moved toward his brother.
"Rayliar... I'm... sorry."
At those words, a gaze like that of a feral beast filled Rayliar's eyes.
"DON'T. PITY. ME."
A shiver ran down Morlowe's spine.
Never before had he seen such concentrated fury in a person's expression.
Slowly, Rayliar rose to his feet, wiping away the lone tear that had rolled down his cheek.
"Hey, kid. Yes or no?"
Clarence interrupted.
"Y-Yes."
"Very well! Tonight we shall hold a feast in your honor! Morlowe, the Hope of Crownsville! Ahahaha!"
The knight laughed, slinging him over his shoulder as they headed down the village streets.
Slowly, the crowd began to follow, transforming into a full-blown procession.
Only two people remained in the now-deserted square.
*Tap*
*Tap*
*Tap*
The sound of footsteps drew closer to Rayliar's ears, until finally they stopped.
The young man looked up to see who was standing before him.
"I'm proud of you, you know."
Dimitrov said, pulling him into a gentle embrace.
And this time, the tears didn't stop.
_____________
Rayliar moved his hand in the air, scrolling through the floating screen that hovered a few centimeters in front of him.
___________
Name: Rayliar Deligt
Gender: Male
Level: 1
_____________
Jobs:
First Job: Woodcutter
_____________
Titles:
Indomitable Trainer - Always strive to surpass your limits. Strength (+2)
_____________
Stats:
Strength: 7 (+2)
Agility: 6
Intelligence: 6
Stamina: 12
Magic Power: 6
_____________
Skills:
CHOP LV. 1 - A devastating chopping strike. Cleaves through anything in its path.
_____________
COINS: 500
_____________
Damn it!
The boy cursed internally.
A week had passed since Selection Day, and both his life and his brother's had taken drastically different paths. Morlowe had left Crownsville for the capital, while Rayliar had plunged into a sea of doubts and disappointment.
Why... why?! Damn it-
*Bang*
Without warning, something struck the back of his head, making him bite his tongue.
"Enough with the self-pity. You're pathetic!"
His grandfather scolded.
"Gah! That hurt!"
"Get dressed and come with me. Seeing you like this makes me sick."
Dimitrov said, a mixture of anger and pain in his voice.
"W-Where are we going?"
Rayliar asked, quickly getting up from his bed.
"To the forest..."
"!!!"
A look of shock filled the young man's face.
_____________
Sephdun Forest, better known as the haunted woods.
Most of the monster hordes that attacked the town came from that place.
Once a year, a royal expedition was organized to thin out their numbers.
Now, the two of them were heading straight into the rabbit hole.
_____________
The towering trees enveloped them in a gentle embrace.
Sunlight barely penetrated the dense foliage, swaying in the light breeze, while the smell of moss and greenery filled their lungs with every breath.
"Rayliar... what's the difference between the various jobs?"
Dimitrov asked, stepping deftly over tree roots.
"Mmm... I'd say that the higher the star rating, the higher the level and the number of skills one can acquire."
The boy replied, a hint of his disappointment still visible in his expression.
"And what's the advantage of lower-star jobs?"
The old man continued, hopping from one spot to another.
"...I wouldn't know…"
"Fewer skills that require minimal mana. That's the answer. Everyone wants a flashy job, something spectacular! For stats, there are always titles and... other methods... but tell me, what would be stronger: a single skill at level 99 or a bunch of skills at level 2?"
"Probably the one at level 99."
"Exactly! And you have the chance to hone a single skill to its utmost potential!"
The realization struck Rayliar like a bolt of lightning.
"You've never been one to give up."
The elder said, a faint smile on his lips.
"So all that's left is for you to train, understand your job better... watch and learn."
The man said, pointing toward an indistinct spot in the undergrowth.
Rayliar followed the line of his grandfather's finger.
Amidst the brambles, not far off, a group of five goblins huddled around a small fire.
Their greenish, warty skin blended with the surroundings, making them hard to spot. Long ears jutted from the sides of their elongated heads, and large, hooked noses sat in the middle of their faces.
"Stay put."
The old man leapt forward.
With no fear or hesitation, he approached the group of monsters.
Calmly, he reached his right hand into the pouch at his waist, pulling out a ball of material that looked like steel, yet woven so thin it seemed like wool.
"Graugh!"
One of the monsters shrieked, leaping to its feet.
And then, one by one, the other goblins rose, encircling the old man.
"Oh... this just makes things easier for me..."
Dimitrov muttered, threading the string through a sewing needle.
W-What's he planning to do?!
Rayliar wondered as he watched.
"Thread Master!"
The old man shouted.
As soon as he spoke, the string lifted into the air as if it were alive.
A faint blue aura surrounded it, casting a glow across the clearing.
Without further ado, the thread shot forward, and it was over for the goblins.
*Splat*
*Splat*
*Splat*
*Splat*
*Splat*
In an instant, the thread and needle circled around him, piercing the heads of the five monsters in its path.
Still processing what had happened, the goblins staggered briefly, then fell lifelessly to the ground.
Yawning, the old man turned to his grandson.
"Now do you understand what I mean?"
The boy tried to respond, but no words left his parted lips.
_____________
*Chop*
*Chop*
*Chop*
A month had passed since Selection Day, and the days grew monotonous for Rayliar.
His back muscles tensed, ready to transmit power through his arms and to the axe.
His feet planted firmly in the ground, his hips rotated, and the blade struck.
*Chop*
Throughout the past month, he had spent most of his time in the forest. Just him and his axe.
The young man extracted the weapon from the trunk, lifted it beside his head, and swung it down at the same spot again.
*Chop*
And one final time.
*Crack*
*Thud*
With a loud crash, the tree fell, stirring nature awake. Dozens of colorful birds took flight, soaring gracefully into the sky.
"Status."
Rayliar muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow as he quickly skimmed through his stats.
_____________
Titles:
Indomitable Trainer - Always strive to surpass your limits. Strength (+2)
Crazy Trainer - If it were up to you, you'd train 24/7. +1 to all stats.
_____________
Stats:
Strength: 7 (+2) (+1)
Agility: 6 (+1)
Intelligence: 6 (+1)
Stamina: 12 (+1)
Magic Power: 6 (+1)
_____________
Skills:
CHOP LV. 2 - A devastating chopping strike. Cleaves through anything in its path.
- Proficiency = 67.82%
_____________
Ah! Devastating... it barely cuts down a tree, and they call it devastating!
Rayliar thought, letting himself drop to the ground.
He fumbled for the canteen beside him, unscrewed it, and splashed the water over his face.
"Ahh... much bett—"
*Crack*
Sigh... again...
Rayliar lazily pushed himself up, brushing the dirt and mud off his knees. He turned his gaze in the direction of that sharp sound.
From the underbrush, two large, red eyes glared at him from the shadows.
"Come out."
Rayliar commanded, his voice laced with a murderous intent.
As if accepting his challenge, the beast revealed itself.
A stocky, muscular creature, resembling a giant boar with disproportionately large tusks, stepped out of the vegetation. Its glossy black coat clung tightly to its powerful, bulging muscles.
So, this time it's an Eber, huh...
Rayliar thought, eyeing the ferocious beast.
Thump-Thump
Thump-Thump
His heart pounded in his chest.
For a moment, boy and beast locked eyes, both frozen like statues.
And then, the Eber charged.
Its four massive legs dug into the ground, tearing forward.
The monster lowered its head, aiming its deadly tusks at Rayliar's chest.
Watching it barrel toward him, Rayliar took a deep breath and lowered his stance.
He dug his toes and fingers into the earth, searching for the best grip.
His core tightened, and his arms widened in preparation.
And then came the impact.
*Boom*
Rayliar's shoes sank into the dirt.
Between his hands, the Eber's huge tusks were locked in place, neither side willing to give an inch.
Standing on the point of collision, both unleashed all their strength.
The beast's hind legs pushed with relentless force, trying to win this strange contest of strength.
A thick vein bulged on Rayliar's forehead, his face drenched in sweat.
Idiot. Who in their right mind would try to beat a boar in a contest of strength?
He mused to himself.
Yeah, defeating the creature with brute force was never Rayliar's plan.
He bent his knees slightly, wrapping his arms around the beast's massive tusks.
... And then he pushed up, extending his body.
Suddenly, the boar realized it was no longer touching the ground.
With the Eber held vertically above him, Rayliar let himself fall backward, slamming the beast to the ground, then quickly maneuvered to pin it down.
In a flash, Rayliar reached over his shoulder and drew the blade his grandfather had given him to defend himself in the forest.
The sword sliced down, piercing the creature's throat from one side to the other.
*Splat*
A spray of blood splattered across Rayliar's cheek.
It's over...
Rayliar thought, rolling to the side beside the beast.
The sword still lodged deep in the wound.
______________
Dimitrov sat in his chair, savoring a good mug of beer.
That idiot should be back any minute now… and when he does, I swear I'm giving him a good punch—
*Boom!*
With a thunderous crash, the cabin door burst open, and the chilly autumn wind swept inside.
Standing in the doorway was a young boy, grinning with a foolish smile plastered on his face.
"Grandpa, get the fire going! Tonight, we're eating boar!"
Rayliar called out, dragging an enormous carcass behind him.