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2: Temple of Guiding Light
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 13:13:33 +0000 UTCAs I sat there, Elder Peter approached me after finishing his conversation with Amanda, who had many questions about what was to come in her future. The only other person still seated was Gemma, quietly reading over her own status screen and abilities.
"Worry not, young Trevor," Elder Peter said kindly. "Fate has a path for us all. Today, yours took an unexpected turn, but only you can guide it forward. When we return to the Temple, we will give you a room to rest in while I consult the archive for more information. If you'd like, you can also speak to the cooks at the Temple for advice. They make humble meals, but I'm sure they can help guide you."
I kept my gaze downward, muttering softly, "Thank you, Elder. I appreciate the help."
A small smile touched Elder Peter's face. "I assume by now you've looked into the details of your class and abilities?"
"Yes, Elder," I replied, feeling the weight of disappointment in my voice. "But there was no further information. It said the same thing as when I touched the orb. I get six stat points on level-up, and the abilities seem fairly basic."
A slight look of surprise crossed his face. "Six points is quite significant. The common classes only get three, after all. Would you mind showing me your sheet? If you'd prefer to keep it private, I completely understand. But I would like to help you through this."
Seeing no reason to decline, I shared my status screen with him. He studied it for a moment before murmuring, "Curious," and then looked back up at me. "We'll investigate this further at the Temple. For now, it's almost time to leave. Follow me."
I followed Elder Peter, joined by Gemma and Amanda. I never even managed to see my friends again before we left. I found it odd but assumed they had already left for their respective lodgings, eager to begin their own paths. As we walked away from the Academy—my home for the last ten years—a sharp pang of loss pierced my chest.
When I first arrived, I never thought I would care. The Academy had taken us all in as young children, adopted or brought in from families too poor to feed us. In the end, we were all orphans in one way or another; it was our only home.
I always assumed I wouldn’t look back. But now, as I left, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was leaving my dreams behind. I had gotten what I wanted. A rare class. Right?
In my ten years at the Academy, I had never seen another student receive a rare class, but now here I was. At first glance, though, it felt inferior to a regular cooking class.
Logic in the back of my mind told me a rare class couldn't be worse than a common one, but that didn't erase the disappointment I felt.
Lost in thought, I didn’t even realise when we reached the Dunhearth Medical Pavilion. Elder Peter greeted an elderly woman and introduced Gemma, explaining that she had received the Cleric class. Gemma nodded quietly, and the woman escorted her away.
Leaving the pavilion, we continued our walk toward the centre of the city, heading for the Temple of Guiding Light—a grand stone building that dominated the skyline. After a short walk, with Amanda peppering Elder Peter with questions along the way, we reached the town square where the Temple stood.
Walking inside, I was immediately struck by the sheer grandeur of the place. I had seen the temple from the outside before, but I’d never had a reason to enter. In the centre of the main hall stood a massive statue of a woman draped in robes, her hands open in a welcoming gesture. Hallways extended to the right and left of the main chamber, while rows of pews faced the statue where worshippers could sit and pray. The entire place felt suffused with quiet reverence.
Elder Peter, noticing our gazes, spoke up. “The Goddess of Fate; the one who guides our paths.”
“Wow,” was all Amanda managed to say, her voice filled with awe.
I said nothing, simply staring up at the statue, lost in thought about what fate had in store for me.
We walked deeper inside, and Elder Peter called over a fellow priest, instructing them to take Amanda for her Deity test. The priest led Amanda away, leaving me alone with Elder Peter.
“Well, let’s get you settled,” he said, guiding me toward a hallway. “I’ll find you a room first, then introduce you to the cooks. If you'd like, I’ll need some time before I can search the archives for information about your class.”
I nodded in agreement, my mind still reeling from the orb’s revelation.
Elder Peter showed me to a small room—barely furnished, just a bed and a small chest for belongings. It was humble, but I appreciated the privacy. After a moment, I followed him to the kitchen.
"Martin, this is Trevor," Elder Peter introduced, motioning to a portly man in a stained apron. “He received a cooking-related class today. We’re unsure of its specifics, but we were hoping you could show him around the kitchen and possibly give him some pointers.”
"Absolutely, Elder," Martin said with a wide grin. "A cooking-related class, you say? Did the child get Field Cook or something?"
Elder Peter chuckled. “No, Martin. He got a rare class—the first I’ve had out of that Academy in all my years. He’ll be here while I search for any information we may have in our archives about it.”
He turned to me, a hint of reassurance in his voice. "I’ll seek you out, Trevor, once I find more information. Take care."
With that, Elder Peter left, leaving me alone with Martin, who was now eyeing me with curiosity.
"Rare class, did he say? Rare cooking class?" Martin asked, as if the idea were still sinking in.
"Yes, sir," I mumbled, still lost in my own thoughts.
Martin eyed me for a moment before asking, "Well, boy, why does it look like someone took your favourite toy away from you?"
I hesitated, then shrugged. "I was really looking forward to a combat class, sir. It’s what I had trained for."
Martin’s expression shifted to something more serious, and he let out a short laugh. "Nonsense. Why would anyone want to risk their lives every day? Now, show me those abilities."
I opened my status screen and showed him the abilities page. Martin studied it for a while, his brow furrowing in thought.
"Yes, these are different from a regular cook’s," Martin mused, tapping his chin. "Let me show you around the kitchen. Maybe we can get you doing some prep work. Get some experience, level up, and see what else this class might have to offer."
I was guided through the kitchen and introduced to the basic tools. There was a small stone oven, a pile of firewood, a large stew pot next to the fire with a lid, and a big stockpot.
Next, Martin led me into the cool room, explaining that a mage specialising in ice donated their time every three months to recharge the enchantment that kept the room cold, thus preserving food more effectively.
Finally, we arrived at the butchery room. The smell hit me as soon as I entered.
"Ah, yes, you get used to it," he said, completely unfazed. "Here, we butcher meat donated to the temple. We give any salvageable furs to local businesses, and we use the meat for meals. Waste materials are disposed of through that door, feeding them to the local animals," Martin explained, pointing to a door that seemed to lead outside.
Walking back into the main kitchen, Martin continued, “The bread for today is finished and cooling. We just need to prepare the stew for tonight. Since you have Basic Meal Prep and Knifework skills, I’ll have you dice some vegetables, if you’re willing.”
He pulled over a small sack of tubers. "Have you ever cooked before, boy?" he asked conversationally, pulling out some tubers and grabbing a few knives to work with.
"No, sir. I’ve only ever cooked damper and roasted meat during survival training," I replied, feeling overwhelmed by everything so far.
Before I knew it, a small knife was placed in my hand, along with a large tuber.
"Right, well, pay attention. First, we want to remove the skin from these tubers," Martin began, slicing off a very thin layer, just removing the outer skin. "Be sure to watch your hands when cutting, so you don't cut yourself. Once it’s skinned, we want to dice it into medium-sized chunks like this."
Martin finished dicing his tuber before tossing the pieces into the pot.
"Right, your turn," he said, looking over at me.
Taking the tuber in hand, I tried to copy what I’d seen. Quickly, I realised I was having a much harder time. What was coming off wasn’t the thin skin, but large chunks, and while Martin had turned the tuber, taking the skin off in one long strip, mine was just little pieces. I heard Martin chuckling next to me.
"Don’t worry, boy. We all start there, even with the skills. Keep at it while I get the other veg ready, as well as browning off the meat."
With that, I got back to work, slowly trying to peel the tubers.
In the end, by the time Martin returned to see my progress, I had only peeled, cut, and diced five tubers, and they did not look good. I hung my head, expecting to be called a failure. All I knew was combat; this was too much.
"Not as bad as I expected," Martin said, looking over my work. "Don’t worry, boy, let’s get these done. Another thirty or so, and we’ll have the stew started."
With that, Martin joined me in peeling the tubers. After a few more, I started to relax and daydream about the what-ifs, wondering how my friends were doing right now. Lukas had gotten the class he was after.
I should be excited for him, yet I couldn’t help but feel some jealousy. And George—he’d already be in the barracks. Would I even see him again? Unless assigned to guard duty, the military recruits had little free time and rarely left the barracks. Lost in my thoughts, I lost track of time.
Martin broke me out of my daze.
"Finish that one, and we're done. And look, you're clearly getting better! That one doesn’t look like a hatchet peeled it!" he said with a laugh, throwing the last of his own tubers into the pot.
“Now that’s done, we’ll leave it here beside the heat to cook until early evening,” Martin instructed. “Remember, never to place a stew directly over or next to a flame—otherwise, it will rapidly boil and burn, wasting all that food.”
I just nodded. Taking a moment, I checked to see if I had earned any experience for the task. To my dismay, I was still at 0 for my class, and under Meal Prep, I was also at 0. My Knifework, however, was showing 20 experience.
"Ah, excuse me, sir," I asked timidly, "how do you earn experience as a cook? Do you need to kill monsters?"
Martin chuckled. "No, silly boy. You get experience through preparing and cooking. It’s not much, but it all adds up over time," he responded.
This confused me.
"I didn't get any experience for Meal Prep or my main class. Is that normal?" I asked.
This grabbed Martin’s attention, a small look of confusion crossing his face before it quickly vanished.
"I wouldn't worry, boy. Maybe the class didn’t recognise what you did as enough. Go rest for a few hours and come back this evening; I’ll show you how we serve up."
With that, I left the kitchen, returning to my room. As I passed the main hall and the statue of the Goddess of Fate, I saw people kneeling before it, praying. Deciding I had nothing better to do, I took a place in front, knelt before the statue, closed my eyes, and prayed.
"Dear Goddess, I don't know what I've done to deserve this path, or where it will take me, but I certainly hope there is a plan; and I hope you guide me through it."
I didn’t get a response, but I never expected one. Gods don’t speak to mortals.
As I got up to continue heading back to my room, I caught a faint smell of roast chicken. How odd. I don’t remember having seen any roast meat in the kitchen. I pushed it to the back of my mind and continued on, part of me hoping to spot Amanda—just so I’d have a familiar face, someone to talk to, even if we weren’t close back at the Academy. However, I wasn’t that lucky.
After resting my head for a short while, I heard a faint knock at the door.
“Young sir,” a voice called from the other side, “Martin wants me to tell you dinner will be served shortly.”
"Ah, sorry, thank you. I’ll head straight there."
Shooting up from my bed, I left the room at a brisk walk, heading back towards the kitchen. Maybe I’ll get experience by serving the food? I thought.
As I entered the kitchen, Martin seemed to notice me immediately, despite the place being a buzz of activity.
"Over here, boy," Martin called out.
I headed over, and he simply said, "Right, tonight you’ll shadow me. Just go where I go. Be careful of those around you. We'll need to get that stew off the coals, check the seasoning, and then take it upstairs to the dining hall before we dish it out."
I just nodded along, a bit overwhelmed by the flurry of activity in the kitchen. Next thing I knew, the pot was being pulled off the heat, and a spoon was placed in my hand.
"Right, taste it, boy."
Doing as I was told, I immediately took a spoonful—and, as I should have expected, burned my tongue.
'You have suffered 1 HP damage.'
"Damn, burnt tongue," I muttered.
Martin just laughed. "You have to let it cool a little first. Well, you won’t really be able to taste the difference now; but what we’re doing is tasting it before adding seasoning. We don’t want to over-season it. Just remember, you can always add more, but you can’t take it out; and nobody likes an overly salty stew."
With that, Martin took his own spoon, tasted the stew, and added a small handful of salt before grabbing a second spoon and tasting it again.
"There we go; perfect," Martin stated.
I went for a second taste anyway, despite my burnt tongue, but Martin stopped me.
"Clean spoon, boy. Get another, or wash that one."
I apologised, fetched a second spoon, and tasted the stew again, letting it cool this time. The flavour was completely different.
"Did you really only add salt to that?" I asked, surprised.
"Just salt and pepper. You’ve really not had many food options if this is surprising you," he said.
"Sorry, sir... we didn’t really have that much at the Academy," I muttered, feeling embarrassed.
"No problem at all. Let’s go, put your spoons in that wash bucket over there," he said, pointing to a bucket full of water, "and follow me. We’ll take this upstairs. My fellow cooks have already taken the bread up."
Martin lifted the giant pot, not even showing a hint of strain, and carried it out of the room into the dining hall.
The room was large, filled with long communal tables. Off to the side was a section with a large stack of bowls and bread already piled high on a tray.
"Right. What’s going to happen is the clergy will come up and grab their own bread and a bowl. You are to ladle one large spoonful per person," he instructed.
"And don’t worry, I’ll be here to help," he added.
With that, I was passed a ladle, and a line started to form.
The service period passed in a blur. I didn’t even see Amanda—maybe she wasn’t hungry after the testing.
Martin took over after a short while, before passing it back to me to finish up.
I was then handed my own bowl and a bread roll. Sitting on the bench, I ate my food and absentmindedly looked over my status screen.
Hit Points: 139/140
Mana: 50/50
Stamina: 110/140
I was down 30 stamina from the effort tonight, but more importantly, I was still at 0 experience for both my main class, and the skill Basic Meal Prep was also sitting at Experience: 0/100.
While I was still lost in my thoughts, I was startled as Martin sat across from me with his own food.
"Any luck with the experience, boy?" he asked, tearing off a chunk of bread.
"No, none yet. I’ve used 30 stamina. I gained 20 experience in Knifework earlier, but nothing for tonight," I responded.
"That’s interesting. Usually, as cooks, we get experience for preparing, and a small amount more when serving. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it; we’ll get it worked out. The Elder said he was looking for information in the archives for you. I’m sure he’ll come back with a full write-up of what you can expect from the class."
"Once you’ve finished eating, you can head to bed. If you’d like, I can wake you for the breakfast service. It’s a bit early, but maybe you’ll gain some experience if you take part in the full preparation rather than just a portion," he explained.
I just nodded.
"It’s worth a shot," I said, feeling a little disheartened.
Heading back to my room that evening, I saw Amanda emerging from a different passage that branched off the main hall. She quickly noticed me and joined me as we walked toward the rooms.
"I’ll be leaving the town," Amanda stated as we walked. "They tested me, and I’m an Acolyte for the God of Harvest. They said I’d be joining a caravan to Elarith Vale, joining the Temple of Life. It’s so exciting! I’ve heard it’s led by an Elf. I’ve never seen an Elf before," Amanda said, clearly thrilled.
"That sounds amazing. I hope the temple’s just as wonderful as this place. It’s so large here, I never really appreciated it until today," I replied, trying to encourage her.
"They told me it’s even larger! Apparently, it’s centred around a massive tree, with a statue carved into its trunk. I can’t wait to see it!"
"Oh, this one’s mine," Amanda said as we passed the rooms. "If I don’t see you before, come say hi if you’re ever in Elarith Vale."
With that, Amanda entered her room.
As I continued to my own room, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be the only one from our group left behind in Dunhearth. That thought was the last thing I remembered before I collapsed on my bed, and sleep took me.
Before I knew it, there was a knock at my door.
It felt like I’d barely slept. My thoughts had kept racing, from my skills to my lack of experience. Would I forever be Level 1? Was that even possible? All these questions ran through my head as I looked for my clothes.
That’s when I noticed the temple had provided me with a new-ish set of tunic and trousers. They were slightly oversized, but in good condition.
I opened the door to find a smiling priest.
"Martin has requested you for breakfast in the kitchen," the man said before wandering away.
I briskly made my way to the kitchen, noticing it was already a buzz of activity, despite the rest of the temple being silent.
Upon entering, Martin called out to me.
"Morning, boy. Hope you slept well. We’ve got lots of work to do today, so same as yesterday. I just want you to follow me. We’ll be serving porridge with sliced fruit, and if they’d like, we’ve got some bread left over from last night’s dinner."
Heading into the cool room, Martin grabbed a box of mixed fruits. They were all different colours—citrus, berries, and some plantains.
"Right, so what we need to do is get this all diced up and placed in that large bowl. The porridge is already over there by the coals. We’ll need to make sure we stir it regularly, and I’m going to get you to do that. Just to make sure you have a part in the cooking. Try to get yourself some experience today!" Martin said cheerfully, handing me a dagger-sized knife.
"Right, so listen up and watch carefully. Always remove the skin here — but don’t throw it away. All this will get saved and used in the gardens, to give back to the soil. Always cut away from your hands, never towards. Slice it into small, easy-to-eat chunks, like so."
Martin then demonstrated how he wanted each fruit cut.
Getting to work, I was slow, but this was fairly easy. It felt like I had good control of the knife as I sliced. I wondered whether my stats were helping me.
After a short while, Martin prompted me to stir the porridge, which I did without question.
We finished cutting all the fruit not long after, and the porridge was off the heat and cooling before we took it to the dining hall.
"Any luck with the experience, boy?" Martin asked, pulling up my stats again and looking them over.
Name: Trevor
Class: Arcane Chef
Rarity: Rare
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
Feed the body, Grow the soul.
Hit points: 140/140
Mana: 50/50
Stamina: 110/140
"No, nothing for the main class," I responded, before checking my abilities. I saw Basic Meal Prep was still sitting at Experience: 0/100, but to my surprise, my Knifework had grown quite a bit!
Knifework
Level: 1
Experience: 90/100
"Nothing for Basic Meal Prep, but I’m nearly Level 2 in Knifework!" I said, finishing up my status check.
Martin stood there for a moment, seeming deep in thought.
"Very strange," he muttered, then grabbed the porridge pot and headed toward the dining hall.
I picked up the bowl of fruit and followed behind him.
By the time we arrived in the dining hall, there was already some activity. Martin placed the food down on the bench and turned to me.
"We don’t need to serve breakfast; people help themselves. Go ahead and grab a bowl and eat."
I nodded and helped myself to some porridge, fruit, and a roll, before sitting down. Martin soon joined me, and to my surprise, a familiar face appeared. Amanda took a seat across from me, her bowl piled high with porridge, fruit, and bread.
"I forgot to eat last night," she said sheepishly.
Martin chuckled softly.
"I’ll be leaving right after breakfast," she added, clearly nervous.
"I’ve never left the town before. Do you think it’s dangerous?"
I didn’t know how to respond. Like Amanda, I’d never been beyond the town’s edge, outside of supervised excursions for survival training. My first memories were of the orphanage, before the Academy adopted me.
Martin chimed in, "Ah, heading to a different temple?"
Amanda shrank back slightly, not sure how to respond to Martin. "Yes, sir. I'm headed to the Temple of Life today," she said quietly.
"Oh, I’ve been out there before. Two weeks to the north by carriage. That’s where the oats in this porridge came from, actually. It’s a peaceful farming town for the most part, but the temple really is a sight to see. No, I wouldn’t say the journey is dangerous. You’ll be with a guard anyway," Martin said casually.
Amanda visibly paled. "Tw—Two weeks?"
Martin chuckled again.
"Yes, two weeks at a good pace. But don’t worry; those groups move in a large caravan of sorts. You’ll have plenty of company."
Amanda relaxed slightly but fell quiet, stirring her porridge as she ate.
I wasn’t much help in keeping the conversation going. My mind was preoccupied with the experience issue. How was I supposed to live if I couldn’t even get my skill to work? Where would I earn money? Would I even be allowed to stay?
Before I knew it, Martin got up, placing his bowl in the dish bucket, and gave me a hearty slap on the back.
"You worry too much, boy. You’ll be fine. Come back this afternoon, and we’ll prepare dinner again. I’m sure Elder Peter will be along shortly to speak to you about your skill, so don’t wander too far."
And with that, Martin left.
His departure seemed to snap Amanda out of her thoughts. She quickly stood and cleaned up.
"Good luck, Trevor. I hope I see you again," she said, offering a sincere smile before walking away.
"You too. Best of luck at the Temple!" I called after her.
My words brought a brighter smile to her face.
After returning to the main temple hall, unsure of what to do with my time, I heard a familiar voice call out.
"Trevor, come with me," Elder Peter said.
He led me down a corridor and into a small, quiet room with a table and a few chairs.
"I spent some time in the archives this morning," Elder Peter began, sitting across from me. "I tried to find records of your class or something similar. Unfortunately, from what we know, there is only one recorded rare cooking class — and I must say, it’s quite different from yours."
He folded his hands, his face serious.
"That class manifests food out of pure mana. Its starting skill is the ability to produce a roll entirely composed of mana."
"How did your time in the kitchen go yesterday? Any progress with your class?"
I shook my head.
"No, sir. I helped with the dinner service and breakfast today, but I gained no experience for my main class or for Basic Meal Prep. I did gain some experience in Knifework, though."
Elder Peter went silent, clearly deep in thought. The silence stretched long enough that I started fidgeting.
"Do you think it’s broken, sir?" I finally asked.
"No, my dear boy," he said, leaning forward. "Rare classes, as the name suggests, are incredibly rare, and very little is known about them. Despite their great potential, they almost always come with a condition, some hidden key you’ll need to discover on your own."
He paused again, his eyes distant.
"As an example, there's a blacksmith in the capital with a rare class, if memory serves — the Phoenix Fire Smith. He couldn’t gain experience until he forged metal infused with phoenix feathers. But once he figured that out, the weapons and armour he crafted were said to rival those made by the greatest smiths the world has ever seen, most of them now worn by royalty."
He let that sink in before continuing.
"What’s important now is that you keep trying. Experiment. Observe. Log everything. If you’re willing, I’d like to document your progress. In return, I can offer you accommodation and a small wage for continuing to work in our kitchens."
With no better options, and with nothing to lose, I nodded.
"Yes, sir. That would be very helpful. Thank you."
"We can pay you two coppers per week," Elder Peter said. "We’ll also provide your room, clothing, and meals. It’s not much, but we live off donations and humble offerings," he explained.
"Of course. I’m grateful for anything," I said honestly.
Elder Peter nodded and slid two copper coins across the table to me before rising from his seat.
"If I discover anything else, I’ll let you know immediately. And if you come across something new or need to speak with me, just ask any priest; they’ll arrange a meeting."
With that, Elder Peter opened the door and stepped back into the main hall, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
This was the first time in my life I’d held money of my own. Even if it wasn’t much, and even if it wouldn’t last long, it wasn’t the amount that mattered.
This was the beginning of my life now.
Two weeks had passed before I even realised it. I’d worked in the kitchen every single day for breakfast and dinner, side by side with Martin. And yet; despite all of it, I was still sitting at
Basic Meal Prep
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
Much to the confusion of everyone I spoke to, nothing had changed.
Even when I was shown how to butcher a donated boar rump, I hadn’t gained a single point of experience in butchery.
Butchery
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
Elder Peter and Martin were both at a loss. The only silver lining in all of this was that my Knifework skill had continued to grow.
Knifework
Level: 4
Experience: 84/1056
And I could feel the difference. Handling a kitchen knife felt natural now—sharp, precise. Martin had even suggested that my increased Dexterity might be enhancing my control.
Still, Elder Peter remained optimistic.
"Keep going," he said. "Eventually, something will work itself out."
But on the final night of my second week, Martin sat down across from me at dinner, his expression unusually serious.
“Trevor… don’t take this the wrong way. I’m happy to keep working with you, truly. But I think it might be time to try something different.”
There was a sadness in his voice.
“We’ve worked side by side every day. You’ve been part of every dish. And maybe, just maybe, it’s the ingredients that are holding you back. But if that’s the case… nothing’s going to change here. Not anytime soon.”
He sighed deeply, the lines on his face seeming deeper than usual.
“Don’t mistake this—I’m not throwing you out. You’re always welcome in my kitchen. But tomorrow, take the day off. Visit the market. Walk around town. See if anything sparks something.”
With that, he stood and returned to the kitchen.
I just sat there, stunned.
Could I leave? I had no home outside these walls. Only six coppers to my name—barely enough for a single night and a hot meal at the local inn.
But Martin was right. Nothing was changing here. I’d butchered a boar. Prepped meals day and night. And still… no experience. No growth.
What else was left to try?
That night, sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned, staring up at the ceiling. What would I do if this failed? End up on the streets?
Could I raise my Knifework high enough to become an adventurer?
No, I quickly dismissed the thought. I might be able to handle weak monsters, sure; but I remembered what Instructor Michael had said: Daggers and Small Arms alone weren’t enough. Not unless you were a Rogue who could slip past a monster’s guard.
A boy running at a beast with nothing but a knife? That was a death sentence.
Sleep finally found me sometime in the early morning hours—but my dreams were restless, and the uncertainty weighed on me like a stone.
