Srsli
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1: Choosing
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 13:12:53 +0000 UTCIt was early morning, and today was the day! I was about to receive my class, along with all the other students in our 15th year at Borgons Military Academy. Ten years of intense training, all focused on swordsmanship, were coming to a head today. This moment had been building up for so long.
I excitedly jumped out of bed, grabbing my worn, mostly tattered academy uniform. As an orphan adopted by the academy at five, I’d been moulded by this place. Like all the others who were taken in from orphanages or families struggling to support too many children, I was here to be trained and guided. We were taught to become future soldiers or adventurers, ensuring the safety of the kingdom—or, more importantly, fighting against the demonic threat in the south.
I had always excelled as a student, especially in swordsmanship, but I was also proficient with other weapons—daggers, polearms, and maces. There was never any doubt, in my mind or in the minds of my instructors, that I would be offered a combat class. In fact, they even suggested I might receive an uncommon class. This was going to be the best day of my life—I was sure of it.
I sat with my two closest friends, George and Lukas, in the dining hall-turned-auditorium. The long dining tables were pushed to the back, and rows of chairs had been set up for the students and faculty to witness the event. To the side, a separate row of chairs awaited us—the new class, ready to claim our adulthood.
“Well, what do you think you’ll get?” George whispered, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.
“Uncommon Swordsman,” I answered confidently, the words spilling out like they were already written for me. “You both know I’m the best in the class with a sword. The system wouldn’t give me anything else. I’m sure of it.”
Lukas snorted beside me, his voice dripping with scepticism. “Not likely. You’ll probably just get Warrior, like most of us. We’re not special enough for any fancy classes.”
It didn’t matter what Lukas thought. He’d never been confident about getting an Uncommon class. Me, though? I was certain. I could feel it deep down. Even knowing how few people ever got anything above a common class in the academy—most graduates ended up with a basic combat or healer class, and the rare few got a common magic class—I still felt destined for something special.
The academy had no tutors for magic. Their goal was to provide career soldiers for the war front or adventurers to protect the cities and towns from the ever-growing monster threats encroaching on them. Specialisations? Niche training? Not here. They didn’t care. They’d say we’d serve a greater purpose—mages couldn’t help in a fight without a solid front line.
It didn’t matter to me. I had something else in mind.
After what felt like an eternity, the murmurs from the hall grew louder. Though muffled, I could tell the academy staff were greeting the priest from the temple. A hush fell over the room when the door opened, and in walked our arms instructor, Michael, leading an elderly man dressed in grey robes. The man held what appeared to be an orb wrapped in cloth.
“That must be the artefact that gives us our class,” I whispered to no one in particular, but my words were barely audible over the growing excitement around me.
“Silence,” Michael commanded, and instantly the room stilled.
“We have eight students today who will undertake the choosing,” he began. His voice was firm, but there was an undeniable weight in his words. “After today, you will be considered adults in the eyes of the Kingdom. We will ensure that you are taken into the appropriate group. I expect great things from some of you, and I expect you will all remember your training and do this academy proud.”
I could have sworn Instructor Michael was looking directly at me when he said that. My heart skipped a beat, but I quickly pushed the thought aside. He was just a teacher, after all.
“Once your name is called, come to the front. Elder Peter will now instruct you on the process before we begin,” Michael concluded.
Most of us had heard the elder’s instructions countless times, especially as we sat in the same room year after year, watching our seniors take their turn at the ceremony on their 15th birthday. But no matter how many times we’d seen it, the anticipation was always the same.
"Thank you for that introduction, Instructor," Elder Peter began, his voice soft but clear enough for everyone to hear. "When your name is called, step forward and place your hand on the Orb of Choosing. Your class and a brief summary will be provided to you, along with a display above the orb for all to see." He paused, his eyes scanning the group, ensuring we were all listening closely.
"I will remind you all: classes cannot be changed, and none of you will have any control over the class you receive, except for fate itself. Lastly, as you know from your lessons here, this will also unlock the System for you. Now, Instructor, if you would please, let us begin." Elder Peter unwrapped the orb, revealing a crystalline sphere about the size of a melon. It glimmered faintly in the dim light.
With that, Instructor Michael began calling out names in alphabetical order.
“Amanda, step forward.”
A tomboyish girl practically leapt from her chair before stumbling slightly, quickly composing herself as she reached the orb.
"Place your hand on top of the orb, child," Elder Peter said gently, his voice calm and steady. Amanda placed her hand atop the orb, and a soft blue glow radiated from it.
A hushed murmur of awe rippled through the younger students in the room as the words slowly appeared above the orb, suspended for all to read.
Class: Acolyte, Uncommon.
"Seems you’ll be joining us at the Temple, child," Elder Peter said, offering her a small, approving smile.
“Please be seated,” he added, gesturing to the seats reserved for us—the eight students who would soon receive our classes.
Amanda slowly walked away, her expression a mix of shock and surprise. She had never been the best at combat training but excelled in survival and medical practices. As she took her seat against the wall, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was a class she’d wanted or if fate had simply chosen her path.
A yell cut through the air. "Brandon!" It ended all the muttering among the children. A young boy I’d never really gotten along with approached the front. With a confident smile, he placed his hand on the orb. After a moment, the orb glowed blue, and text appeared. “Soldier, Common,” Elder Peter read aloud.
With a smile, Brandon turned and took a seat along the wall.
"Darren!" The next name was called. Darren quickly approached, clearly nervous. He also received Soldier, then took a seat next to Brandon, whispering something to him.
"Gemma!" A small girl, one of the quietest at the Academy, slowly approached and placed her hand on the orb. "Cleric, Common. Always good to see healers. Take a seat, child." As Gemma walked away, she took a seat at the far end of the group.
Michael’s voice rang out, “George!”
"This is it," I heard George whisper as he stood up and strode forward. He placed his hand on the orb. "Soldier, Common," Elder Peter said. A smile spread across George’s face as Lukas and I gave him a nod, knowing he got what he wanted.
"Lukas!" The next name echoed. My other friend was called forth.
"Good luck," I whispered.
"You too," Lukas replied as he confidently approached the orb, placing his hand on it. "Swordsman, Uncommon," Elder Peter declared. A giant smile appeared on Lukas’s face, and he gave me a thumbs up before sitting down next to George.
This was good news. We trained together, and I was always slightly better with the sword than Lukas. If he got Swordsman, I would too, right?
"Sara!" Michael’s voice cut through my thoughts. After her, it was my turn. Nerves gripped me, but Sara stepped forward, placing her hand on the orb.
"Archer, Common," Elder Peter said, as Sara smiled and wandered over to the seats.
And then, I heard my name.
"Trevor!"
This was it.
I stood up, my legs wobbled slightly, but I steeled myself. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself—I had trained for this. I was ready.
I stepped forward and met Elder Peter’s gaze before placing my hand on the orb. A slight coolness spread through my fingers, and then the orb began to glow.
It shone brighter than it had for the others. My breath caught as words appeared before me, suspended in the air between myself and Elder Peter.
Class: Arcane Chef
Rarity: Rare
Feed the body, Grow the soul
Elder Peter paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback, before stating,
"Arcane Chef, Rare. How curious. I’ve never seen a rare class here before today. Take a seat. We will talk shortly."
Confusion and shock overwhelmed me. I barely registered his words as I stood frozen. This couldn’t be right. I didn’t get a combat class? How was this possible?
"I’ve never even cooked before. How?" I mumbled, unable to process it.
"We’ll discuss it shortly. Please, take your seat now," Elder Peter said patiently, though his calmness did little to soothe my mind.
Instructor Michael wasn’t as patient. With a firm hand on my shoulder, he guided me toward the seats, his touch almost brusque. The room was still in shock, though for different reasons. A rare class was unheard of in this academy. The whispers and surprised glances only made me feel more isolated.
My friends, however, were stunned for a different reason: they couldn’t fathom how someone like me—the best swordsman in the class—could get a non-combat class. How was this even possible?
I slumped into a seat next to Gemma, barely hearing Elder Peter’s closing words. My mind was racing, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. The dreams I had nurtured for years—becoming a valiant warrior, slaying powerful monsters, fighting on the front-lines—were all crumbling before me.
I was no longer part of that future.
What was I going to do now?
As the younger students filed out of the room, returning to their lessons, I could feel their eyes on me. Some whispered, others just stared, but no one spoke. My friends’ looks burned into me—silent, shocked, and unsure what to say.
Eventually, Michael and Elder Peter came over. Michael cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
"Right. With this, you are all considered adults in the eyes of the Kingdom. Your studies at Borgons Military Academy are complete. I expect great things from all of you, so go forward and make us proud." He paused. "For those of you with the Soldier class, Sergeant Glass is waiting out front with a carriage to take you to the barracks. Your training will begin immediately."
“Miss Amanda,” Elder Peter said softly, “you will be returning with me to the Temple to begin your testing as an Acolyte. We will first determine which god has taken a shine to you, and then escort you to the appropriate temple. You may even be lucky enough to join the Children of Fate here with us,” he added, chuckling warmly and giving her an appreciative smile.
“Miss Gemma,” he continued, “I’ll be taking you with me as well. We’ll drop you off at the Dunhearth Medical Pavilion, where you’ll be trained as a healer. The talented doctors there will show you the ropes of becoming a successful practitioner.”
Michael then stepped in to speak. “Sara, Lukas, you’ll both be setting off on your journey as adventurers. I suggest you head to the Adventure Guildhall, where you will be assigned a mentor. Best of luck to both of you.”
All eyes then fell on me. Elder Peter cleared his throat. “Master Trevor, I know nothing about your class, nor have I ever encountered it before. I ask that you please come with me so we may investigate further and hopefully gain some insight.”
I didn’t respond immediately. I simply nodded slowly, unsure of what else to do.
Michael spoke again. “Right, you all have thirty minutes to pack up your belongings and say your goodbyes. Some of you will diverge onto different paths, while others will remain in contact. Good luck to everyone.” Without another word, he turned and left the room, avoiding eye contact with me entirely.
Still motionless, I noticed Lukas and George had walked over to me. Lukas, attempting to lighten the mood, laughed. “Well, here we are. Looks like I was the better swordsman in the end,” he teased.
His words earned him nothing but a frown from me.
“Oh, come on,” George chimed in, trying to be reassuring. “It’s a Rare class, surely you won’t be stuck in some random kitchen for the rest of your life. Have you even pulled up your status screen yet? Or looked at your abilities?”
That made something click in my mind. I hadn’t checked anything yet. Slowly, I brought up my status screen.
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: 140/140
Strength: 13
Dexterity: 11
Endurance: 14
Intelligence: 5
Wisdom: 4
Charisma: 3
Willpower: 12
Perception: 8
Luck: 6
Abilities:
Basic Meal Prep: 1
Butchery: 1
Knifework: 1
Looking over this, nothing stood out as special. I tried to bring up extra information about my class and abilities.
Arcane Chef
Feed the body, Grow the soul.
Class Evolution: None
On Level Up:
+2 Intelligence
+1 Wisdom
+1 Dexterity
+2 Unassigned
Basic Meal Prep
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
Can craft basic meals at an increased pace.
Butchery
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
Able to identify usable parts, Increased yield from target.
Knifework
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
Efficiency with a kitchen knife.
I was at a complete loss. Nothing about the status screen stood out to me. It all just looked so... mundane. Where was the arcane part of this? Why was I called an Arcane Chef?
This feeling only made me sink further into disappointment—if that was even possible. My friends, noticing my despondency, waited expectantly.
“Well?” Lukas and George asked almost in unison.
I sighed heavily, looking down at the screen. “There’s nothing. It’s just regular cooking abilities. I don’t even have a fire-starting skill,” I muttered, my voice heavy with defeat. They exchanged a glance, both unsure of how to cheer me up, or if that was even possible at this point.
“Ah well,” George said, trying to sound hopeful, “maybe Elder Peter will discover something useful for you.”
With that, both of them excused themselves, heading off to pack. I was left alone in the chairs, watching the other students preparing for their departures. We all knew what was happening now, and none of us really had much to pack. This was just for last-minute goodbyes.
I didn’t blame my friends for leaving. They had their whole lives ahead of them, filled with adventure and purpose. As for me, I was still struggling to figure out just what my life would be now.
