Tymon could hardly contain himself as he waited in front of the church, the swarms of other teens talking excitedly amongst themselves. The bells started to ring and the crowd of teenagers rapidly quieted, staring forward at the doors creaking open.

Old Priest Murrey shuffled his way out of the temple, his staff clicking on the worn stone street. He waited while the bells finished ringing, then raised his voice to be heard by the crowd.

“What a mass we have gathered here today! I suppose you are all looking forward to the rest of your lives? Ready to become dashing knights and powerful wizards?”

A few voices in the crowd called out, but were shushed by their surrounds.

Priest Murrey just chuckled at the antics, shaking his head before speaking up again.

“Unfortunately, I must pop that bubble. Most, if not all of you, will be rather mundane. Farmers, Hunters, Trappers, Crafters, all are necessary for a town or village to function.”

Nobody spoke up at that, which wasn't too surprising.

“If you're lucky, one or two of you might receive the Alchemist, or the Mage Class. Any rare or legendary Classes are just that, rare, legendary. Once in ten generations.”

“I know that none of you want to hear it, but you're ready for adulthood, for responsibility. And while you may not save a princess, or wield almighty powers against the forces of darkness, you can still live a full and happy life.”

“You're probably all tired of listening to a senile old man ramble about your dreams being unrealistic. Without any further ado, line up to enter the temple and register with the High System!”

There was a bit of jostling while the bigger and more confident kids fought for the front of the line, but Tymon didn't bother. He knew that he would get in eventually, and when he did he would finally see the culmination of all of his efforts.

Registering with the High System was something every person would do when they came of age. Usually when they became a teenager, but sometimes earlier or later. One day, seemingly randomly, a notification would appear before a person's eyes, telling them they were eligible to register.

It was technically possible to register at any time, but it was tradition to wait until the middle of a season. He himself had waited for over a year since his notification, practicing and shoring up his foundations to ensure the best outcome. It was generally accepted that when you registered you were given a Class best suited to your personality and capabilities.

One could train and change their Class over a long enough period of time, but even so it was time wasted. Many just accepted their lot in life and worked within their Class, becoming functioning members of society and keeping the world moving. Tymon however knew something that most people didn't, a bit of information that was normally restricted to nobility.

It was more than possible to influence your Class through intensive training before registering, to become something more than you would be normally. His mother had left him that bit of information before she departed for parts unknown. He had followed the books she left for him diligently, practicing day in and day out to train his fighting prowess and survival skills.

His mother was a powerful warrior, traveling around and killing monsters to protect the average citizens of the Republic. Tymon had dreamed of following in her footsteps for nearly his entire life, being welcomed as a hero wherever he went. His mother had left him with her uncle, a retired Soldier who had helped him hone his martial prowess. Grandpa Pete had even promised to give him his old service knife as a registration gift.

Tymon continued to daydream and fantasize about his glorious future as the crowd slowly crawled forward. A commotion broke out and he was shaken from his thoughts, seeing a group of younger kids. They were surrounded by adults who were fawning over them and he figured it was just their parents making a big deal out of mediocrity. When he became a great Wanderer like his mother, everyone would know how amazing he really was!

Tymon finally reached the doors of the church, the cold air radiating from the doorway briefly banishing the oppressive summer heat. Six teens were crowded around the Console, the crystalline altar that stood at the front of the church. The Console was glowing slightly, and letting out a barely audible humming as it worked on the kids. The glow began to build in the base of the Console, spreading up and into the six access nodes.

The light dimmed, the Console going back into standby mode as the teens walked away. He and the five poor kids destined to be forgotten were ushered forward, taking up formation and placing a hand onto the crystalline access node.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

New Sentient Lifeform detected

Analyzing…

…

Analysis complete

Human

Male

15 cycles

Calculating

…

…

…

…

Completed

Input Name:| Tymon Corbyn |

Human rank 1: Tymon Corbyn registered

Assigning Class

…

._.

Class Imprinted

-

[Harvester]

Tymon blinked. The information from the Console had blazed through his mind and carved the new pathways it needed through his brain.

A long moment passed and he was able to properly breathe again. He looked with disoriented eyes at his surroundings, the other children smiling and looking at their Class screens. He knew he just hadn't read his System messages right, or maybe he misunderstood what a Harvester was. With a thought he summoned his own screen and looked at the information.

Tymon Corbyn - Rank 1

Level 1 - 0%

Physicality - Low

Mysticism- Low

Skills

Unarmed - Rank 2

Blade - Rank 1

Blunt - Rank 1

Bow - Rank 1

Spear - Rank 1

Acrobatics - Rank 1

Gathering - Rank 1

Tracking - Rank 1

Inspect - Rank 2

Spells

Illuminate - Tier 0

Ignite - Tier 0

Class Skills

Proper Harvest - Level 1

He expanded the description on his Class skill, knowing that the name was just misleading.

Proper Harvest

Decrease the rate of decay on harvested materials by 25%

No, it was quite accurate. Anything he harvested would last longer without going bad. He was a farmer.

His hopes and dreams shattered to pieces, jagged shards of his aspirations stabbing and slicing deep into the flesh of his heart. Tymon bit his cheek to try and keep from wailing his sorrows, but couldn't stop his eyes from watering. He stepped back from the Console and ran out through the doors, eyes quickly seeking out Grandpa Pete.

He ran across the square as quickly as his legs could carry him, throwing himself into his Grandpa's arms with a sob. Grandpa Pete didn't even shift from the impact, having an inflated Strength and durability from his Physicality. The older man's arms wrapped around his body, holding him tight as he cried.

“What's a matter, kid?”

“Everything! I, I'm just…”

“Just what Ty?”

“I'm just a farmer!”