The light enveloped Sylas.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't cold either. It simply was—heavy, distant, divine.
Symbols formed in the air above the stone platform, spinning slowly as the runes beneath his feet responded. The crowd leaned forward instinctively, breath held.
Eldric Vaelor raised a hand, and the light stabilized.
A translucent window materialized for all to see.
[Profession Assigned]
Blacksmith
Silence.
Then—
Laughter.
It started small. A snort here. A scoff there. Then whispers spread like cracks through thin ice.
"A blacksmith?"
"Seriously?"
"I told you."
"Figures."
One of the boys Sylas' age shook his head openly. "All that glow for that?"
Another added, louder this time, "Guess the forge really was his destiny."
A few parents looked away, disappointed on his behalf—or perhaps relieved it wasn't their child standing there instead. One mother muttered, "At least he won't be sent to the front lines…"
Lina's fingers clenched at her sides.
Sylas didn't move. He stared at the word floating above him, expression unreadable, but inside, a tight knot of disappointment formed in his chest.
I wanted… I wanted to be a paladin, he thought bitterly, to wield a hammer and shield, to protect people, to stand at the front lines and matter.
So this is what they call ordinary… he thought quietly.
Blacksmith.
Ordinary. Safe. Weak.
Eldric glanced at the tablet hovering beside him, already preparing to dismiss the blessing, when—
Sylas blinked.
Something flickered.
The public window faded… and another appeared.
This one was smaller. Dimmer.
And no one else reacted.
[Hidden Passive Skill Acquired]
Double Experience Gain (Hidden)
Sylas' breath caught.
Another line appeared beneath it.
[Hidden Passive Skill Acquired]
Enhanced Stat Growth (Hidden)
His heart began to pound—no cheers, no gasps, no divine fanfare.
The crowd only saw a boy given a trade.
But Sylas saw something else entirely, something meant for him alone, hidden skills. Not one, but two. Never in history has anyone ever heard of hidden skills.
He didn't let it show. Not a single flicker of excitement or surprise. The world only knew a blacksmith had been chosen today.
"Next!" said Eldric.
...
"Hey… Sylas!" a familiar voice called.
He turned to see two girls from his village stepping forward, having just received their blessings. One was Mariel, a cleric with golden eyes and a soft smile. The other, Lyra, had short silver hair and the faint glow of arcane energy still clinging to her hands—she had become a mage.
"We saw you got your gift," Mariel said gently, her voice like a warm breeze. "Don't be disappointed. You… you're amazing in your own way."
Lyra nodded, leaning slightly toward him. "Yeah, Sylas. You might not have flashy powers like a mage or cleric, but that doesn't mean you're weak. You'll find your path too. We'll do our best to become super strong, famous, and… maybe make the village proud, even if you can't."
Sylas managed a faint smile. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I… appreciate it."
Mariel patted his shoulder lightly. "We'll be watching. Make sure you don't underestimate yourself."
Lyra added with a teasing grin, "And don't get left behind! We might need a blacksmith strong enough to make weapons for us someday."
Sylas let a small chuckle escape, though it was tinged with melancholy. "I won't let you down."
The ceremony continued around them, but Sylas hardly noticed. He and the girls stepped down from the platform together.
Lina's hand found his as soon as they were out of earshot. "Hey…" she said softly. "I know it hurts. I know you wanted to be a paladin."
Sylas let out a slow breath, finally lowering his head. "I did. I wanted a hammer and shield, to stand in front of people, to protect them… not just hammer iron in a forge."
Lina squeezed his hand. "And you'll still protect them. In your own way. We'll figure it out together."
He glanced at her, a faint spark of determination in his eyes. "Yeah… together."
They walked home in silence, the village carried on, unaware that one boy was already destined to change everything.