Jaxon ascended the stage with deliberate, confident strides, his every move observed by the hushed crowd. He reached the Awakening Orb and, without prompting from Ironclad, placed his hand upon its smooth surface.
The collective breath of the onlookers hitched. They waited, expectant.
One second. Two. Three. Nothing.
A ripple of unease spread through the assembled teenagers. Brows furrowed, but Jaxon remained outwardly composed, his confidence seemingly unshaken.
Four seconds. Five. Six. Seven. The orb remained inert.
A seed of doubt began to sprout in Jaxon's mind. Had he been too arrogant? Too sure of himself? The carefully constructed facade of confidence began to crack.
Will I fail? — The question echoed in his thoughts, mirroring the unspoken fear in the eyes of the watching teenagers.
Ironclad, observing from his position of authority, scoffed inwardly. He had been taken aback by Jaxon's earlier display of self-assurance. What could have given the boy such unwavering belief in his own potential? The odds of awakening were notoriously slim. Only a fortunate few possessed the necessary spark. Now, witnessing Jaxon's apparent failure, a wave of disdain washed over him.
'Pfft, did this kid actually believe he was something special? How pathetic.' Ironclad's face contorted with disgust. He was on the verge of declaring Jaxon's failure when, at the very last moment, just as the ten-second mark approached, the unresponsive orb flared to life.
An ethereal, almost majestic, blue light erupted from the orb. Then, a massive, spectral figure materialized behind Jaxon, shocking the entire assembly. It was a towering red minotaur, wielding a menacing axe, its form flickering with an inner fire that hinted at immense power.
"He awakened!" The cry ripped through the stunned silence, voiced by someone in the crowd, their hand clasped over their open mouth.
While many had hoped for Jaxon's success, they understood the inherent uncertainty of the awakening process. Anything could happen. Unexpected outcomes were the norm. His awakening, especially with the agonizing delay, was a genuine shock.
Ironclad, who had been about to pronounce Jaxon's failure, found himself speechless, his words caught in his throat. Shock painted his face.
This brat… actually awakened? — Disbelief coursed through him. He hadn't anticipated this outcome, not when they were mere milliseconds from the ten-second limit.
Despite his astonishment, Ironclad knew he had to regain his composure. He couldn't afford to lose his cool, not now. With a forced calmness, he announced, "Jaxon Vale, passed. Class: Berserker."
His words resonated through the hall like a spell, dispelling any lingering doubts. The crowd erupted in a mixture of excitement and murmurs.
"He really awakened… and a Berserker class at that," Ethan muttered, still reeling from the surprise.
"Well, as much as it pains me to admit it, it's not unexpected. The kid's a beast in combat," Maverick chimed in, his voice tinged with a grudging respect.
Similar conversations echoed throughout the hall. Some celebrated Jaxon's success, while others seethed with envy.
Jaxon, the focus of all attention, stood on the stage, staring into the space before him, a wave of relief washing over him.
'It actually worked. The potion actually worked!'
His earlier confidence hadn't stemmed solely from his own abilities. It had been fueled by a potion he had received from his master earlier that morning. His master had promised him it would guarantee his awakening.
It might have sounded improbable, given the low probability of awakening, but Jaxon had trusted his master implicitly. Despite his master's mysterious nature, it was clear he came from a position of power and influence.
It was no secret that those in positions of authority had discovered ways to enhance the chances of awakening. The sons and protégés of the powerful seemed to awaken with an almost unnatural consistency, as if they possessed some inherent advantage. So, when his master had given him the potion, Jaxon had consumed it without hesitation, certain of its efficacy.
But as the seconds ticked by and the orb remained dark, anxiety had gripped him. He recalled his master's words: as long as he possessed even the slightest potential, the potion would amplify it exponentially. As the time limit neared its end, fear had taken root.
'Does this mean I have no potential at all? How will I face my master after consuming such a valuable resource and still failing? Will I disappoint the man who has cared for me all these years?'
These thoughts had fueled his mounting panic. But now, staring at the glowing interface before him, he could finally breathe freely.
He had done it. He had awakened. The glowing orb and the interface were all the proof he needed.
Aric watched Jaxon descend from the stage, his mind buzzing with speculation. 'Berserker, not a bad class. I wonder if he could be of use to me?' He mused, his brow furrowed in thought. 'I suppose I'll find out later.'
Oblivious to Aric's scrutiny, Jaxon returned to his seat, navigating the hundreds of eyes fixed upon him. Aric's gaze, amongst so many others, didn't stand out, so Jaxon remained unaware of his interest.
The ceremony droned on, a monotonous procession of successes and failures. After Jaxon, only eight more individuals managed to awaken out of the dozens who followed. A palpable sense of disappointment settled over the hall. The joy of the few who had awakened was overshadowed by the dejection of the many who hadn't.
Aric paid little attention to the proceedings. His mind wandered, preoccupied with the promise made by Goddess Lila. She had assured him of aid in his task, but two days had passed since his arrival in this world, and still, nothing. He had hoped for a sign today.
"Aric Blackthorn!" Ironclad's voice boomed from the stage, jolting Aric from his reverie.
'My turn has come!'
He rose from his seat and walked towards the stage, his expression calm and impassive, his steps measured and deliberate. While he didn't project the same overt confidence as Jaxon, he exuded an aura of tranquility, like a sage who had attained a deep understanding of the natural order.
No one seemed particularly surprised by his demeanor. It was Aric's trademark – unfazed and composed, regardless of the situation.
"Place your hand on the orb," Ironclad instructed, his brow furrowing slightly at the boy's imperturbable calm.
'Is he actually expecting to awaken like th… pfft, what am I thinking? He's probably overestimating himself,' Ironclad mused internally.
He had observed the crowd's reaction to both Jaxon and Aric. The difference was stark. Aric clearly wasn't regarded as a prodigy, and Ironclad assumed he was simply deluding himself.
But the moment Aric's hand made contact with the orb's surface, Ironclad's thoughts screeched to a halt. Unlike the others who had awakened that day, whose awakenings had been preceded by a brief pause, the orb reacted instantly to Aric's touch. An ethereal blue light flashed, followed by the appearance of a massive spectral hawk clutching a shadowy quiver brimming with arrows.
An eerie silence descended upon the room. Even Ironclad, who had maintained a facade of professional detachment, couldn't contain his surprise. Aric had manifested an exceptionally rare class: Shadow Ranger.
"Bloody hell," someone exclaimed from the crowd, their jaw agape. They weren't the only one. Everyone present understood the rarity of this particular class.
The Shadow Ranger class was often considered an enhanced version of the Archer class, but that was a gross oversimplification. It was a unique blend of shadowy assassin and skilled archer. Those who possessed this class were renowned for their unparalleled stealth and pinpoint accuracy, making them formidable opponents even at the earliest stages of their development. As they grew in power, their abilities became even more terrifying.
At their peak, it was more challenging to determine the origin of their arrows than it was to dodge them, which was nearly impossible in itself.
"Dude, we're screwed. Do you think he'll want revenge for all those pranks we pulled?" Ethan asked, a tremor of fear in his voice.
"We?" Maverick retorted instantly, distancing himself from the implication.
But before their conversation could progress, another wave of shock rippled through the crowd. The spectral hawk vanished, but the orb continued to glow. A moment later, a large image of a swirling portal materialized behind Aric. This time, even Ironclad's composure shattered, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"There's no way he got another rare class!" someone shouted, incredulous. Aric had indeed awakened a second class, and an exceptionally rare one at that: Dimension Walker.
If the Shadow Ranger class was as rare as finding a needle in a haystack, the Dimension Walker class was akin to finding a needle in a vast field of haystacks. The crowd was utterly dumbfounded.
"Damn it, how can the heavens be so unfair?" a voice cried out from the crowd, laced with anguish. The speaker was eighteen and had failed their final awakening attempt that day. Witnessing someone awaken not one, but two rare classes, was a bitter pill to swallow. How could such a disparity in fortune exist?