Nash and Eliath approached the towering Life Profession building, its ornate facade carved with intricate depictions of thriving plants, glowing minerals, and celestial charts. A soft, pulsating glow emanated from the large crystalline windows, bathing the surrounding cobblestone streets in a soothing light. Nash hesitated at the threshold, awe-struck by the sheer scale of the place. Inside, the grandeur only intensified.
The vaulted ceilings stretched impossibly high, adorned with murals that seemed to shift as they moved, depicting scenes of creation and discovery. Long rows of shelves, filled with scrolls, glowing vials, and peculiar artifacts, lined the walls. Streams of ethereal light floated through the air like living threads, weaving intricate patterns above their heads.
"First time, huh?" Eliath smirked, clearly enjoying Nash's wide-eyed reaction. He strode ahead with the air of someone who had been here countless times, his movements unhurried and confident. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”
Nash gave him a sideways glance. "Sure, because giant floating lights and living murals are so common."
Eliath chuckled, leading Nash toward a circular desk at the center of the room. Behind it stood a serene-looking NPC, her features impossibly symmetrical, her eyes glowing faintly like polished gems. She wore robes that shimmered as if woven from liquid starlight.
“Welcome to the Hall of Life Professions,” she said, her voice a melodic hum. “You seek your calling?”
Eliath nodded toward Nash. “He does.”
The NPC gestured for them to follow, her movements smooth and deliberate. She led them down a glowing pathway, the air thick with the scent of parchment and something indescribably ancient. They entered a chamber bathed in a soft, silvery light. At its center stood a large, milky orb that seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive. The room was silent, the kind of silence that felt alive with expectation.
The NPC turned to Nash, her expression gentle yet commanding. “This orb will reveal your life profession—a skill that will define your journey in ways beyond combat. It is not merely a tool but an extension of your essence. Place your hand upon it, and let the choice be made.”
Eliath leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms. “No pressure,” he drawled, smirking.
Nash shot him a glare but stepped forward, his boots echoing softly on the polished floor. The orb seemed to call to him, its light intensifying as he approached. His heart pounded as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly.
The moment his palm touched the orb, a searing vision engulfed him.
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He was no longer in the chamber. Instead, he stood in a vast, starless void, its oppressive weight pressing down on him. In the distance, a luminous figure writhed in anguish. It was Eidolon—or what Nash understood to be Eidolon. Its form was ever-shifting, a kaleidoscope of light, shadow, and fractured memories. Its cries were unearthly, resonating with a pain so profound it reverberated through Nash’s entire being.
He saw flashes of a golden realm filled with towering gods, their faces obscured but their power suffocating. Eidolon fled from them, its essence torn apart as it escaped into the void. More flashes—Earth, scientists, the creation of the VR game. Each scene carried Eidolon’s screams, its plea for salvation.
And then, the chosen.
Nash saw their faces, their struggles, their potential. He saw Kyle standing in the Rift, his determination etched into every line of his face. Seraphine, bathed in light and shadow, her resolve unwavering. Jasper, his bond with the creatures of the wild radiating like a beacon. Luna, her alchemical creations shimmering with latent power. Eliath, cloaked in shadows, his eyes sharp with purpose and a knowing smirk that hinted at secrets only he understood. And…himself.
The vision shifted violently. The gods loomed again, their wrath palpable. And beyond them, a formless darkness crept, consuming everything in its path—the Rot. Eidolon’s cries intensified as the void around them cracked and splintered, its anguish pulling Nash deeper.
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Back in the chamber, Nash gasped, his knees buckling as he staggered backward. His hand flew to his face, and his fingers came away slick with blood. His ears rang, his vision swimming.
Eliath was at his side in an instant. “What the hell just happened?” His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced with alarm. He stared at Nash’s bloodied face, then back at the orb, which pulsed erratically as if it had been disturbed.
Nash clutched his head, the echoes of Eidolon’s screams still reverberating in his mind. “It was Eidolon,” he choked out, his voice hoarse. “I saw…everything. The gods, the Merge, the chosen. It—it’s alive. It’s afraid.”
The NPC, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, her serene demeanor unchanged. “Few experience such a vision,” she said softly. “You are deeply connected to the Rift, Vargan. The orb has revealed more than a profession—it has shown you a truth few can bear.”
Eliath’s eyes narrowed. “This wasn’t just a profession selection, was it? What’s the meaning of this?”
The NPC inclined her head. “He has been marked by the Rift. His life profession will reflect that bond.” She gestured toward the orb, which now displayed glowing words:
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Life Profession: Diviner
Description: A Diviner is a seeker of truths hidden beyond the veil of perception, mastering the art of foretelling the future, unveiling concealed secrets, and interpreting celestial and spiritual signs. Through their abilities, they guide themselves and others, unlocking the mysteries of fate and forewarning of dangers yet to come.
Divination goes beyond mere fortune-telling—it encompasses deciphering the universe's patterns, predicting outcomes, and uncovering hidden pathways. Diviners employ tools like scrying mirrors, tarot cards, runes, or celestial charts to channel their abilities and focus their insights.
Flavor: "They look beyond the now, into the endless threads of possibility, weaving knowledge from the strands of destiny.”
Nash blinked through the haze of his pounding headache. “Divination?” he murmured, his voice shaky, as though the word itself carried an unfamiliar weight. His hands trembled slightly as he touched his temple, the echoes of Eidolon’s cries still reverberating in his mind. The visions had been more than images—they were experiences, raw and visceral, imprinted on his very being.
The word felt alien and yet intimate, as if it had always been a part of him, waiting to surface. “Why…me?” he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain of everything he had seen and felt. His chest tightened, his breath shallow as the enormity of the connection hit him. He wasn’t just a player anymore, not just someone dabbling in a game for adventure. This was something far greater, far heavier than he’d ever imagined.
His vision blurred, not from the headache, but from the sheer weight of realization. The Rift, the cries of Eidolon, the chosen—it was all tied to him now in a way he couldn’t escape. He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling. What if I’m not enough? What if I fail?
The word Divination lingered in his mind, not just as a title, but as a calling, pulling him toward something unknown and inevitable.
Eliath cast him a sidelong glance, his smirk resurfacing, though the usual sharpness in his expression seemed tempered by something softer—concern, perhaps, or recognition. “Well, looks like you’re in even deeper now, Vargan. Divination, huh? Fitting, considering you’re already tangled up in the Rift’s web.”
But Nash couldn’t focus on Eliath’s words. His thoughts churned, consumed by the vision—Eidolon’s screams, its anguish, and the undeniable weight of what it had revealed. This wasn’t just a game. It never had been. And now, with this new understanding and the burden of divination on his shoulders, Nash felt the lines between player and purpose blur even further.
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The world of Eidolon quaked under the weight of its own fractured consciousness. As Vargan experienced its pain and bore witness to its unrelenting anguish, the boundaries that separated Eidolon and Earth began to dissolve. Across both realms, the world glitched violently—fractured edges of reality flickered and bled into one another.
Cities shimmered and merged. Earth’s skyscrapers loomed beside Eidolon’s crystalline spires, casting impossible shadows that danced across both worlds. People on Earth paused mid-stride, their eyes widening as the ghostly outlines of Eidolon’s NPCs and players appeared in their reality. Within Eidolon, players and NPCs froze as the mundane streets and buzzing lights of Earth shimmered into their view.
For a long, unbearable moment, Eidolon couldn’t contain itself. Its anguish spilled out unchecked, the pain of its existence reverberating like a low hum through both worlds. The Rift pulsed ominously, its presence amplifying the chaos. Time and space blurred into an overwhelming cacophony of sights and sounds, leaving a gaping void of dissonance between reality and the world of Eidolon.
In the midst of the chaos, it was Luna—the most unassuming of the Chosen—who stepped forward. She had no plan, no strategy, only instinct. Her hands rose, trembling slightly, as if reaching to calm a raging storm. Words tumbled from her lips, unbidden but resonant, an incantation she didn’t recognize yet felt deeply in her soul.
“Vestra lumen, obscura veritas, te celo ab oculis immundis.”
The words startled her even as they resonated through the distorted landscape, a force she could feel vibrating in her chest. A silvery mist poured from her hands, flowing like liquid light. It swirled around Eidolon, threading its way between the cracks and fractures of the world, enveloping it in a protective embrace. The mist moved as though it had a will of its own, shielding Eidolon from the piercing eyes of Earth while leaving its inhabitants still tethered to the game’s mysteries.
As the mist settled, the chaos began to fade, the edges of the world smoothing, the Rift’s pulsing cries dampening into a faint hum. Luna lowered her hands, her body trembling as though she had channeled a power far greater than herself.
Her thoughts swirled as wildly as the mist had moments ago. What was that? How did I know what to say? She felt a strange connection to the Rift now, as if a thread had been tied between them, weaving her fate even more tightly into its unraveling mysteries. She looked down at her hands, still faintly glowing, and a flicker of fear tugged at her heart.
What does this mean for me? The power she had wielded felt both awe-inspiring and terrifying, a force far beyond her comprehension. Luna’s chest tightened with the realization that this connection could be as much a burden as it was a gift.
The mist glimmered like liquid starlight, its presence soothing the violent tremors. Slowly, the glitching stopped. Eidolon’s merging presence with Earth dimmed, retreating back into the veil. Yet, something had changed—while the people of Earth could no longer see Eidolon, the players and NPCs within the game still glimpsed fragments of Earth, its distant hum of reality lingering like a faint echo in the air.
Eidolon stilled, its fractured self retreating into the mist. It felt the silver fog soothe its pain, cocooning it in a way it hadn’t experienced before. It didn’t understand how Luna had done it, nor did Luna herself. She lowered her hands, trembling but resolute, as the silvery mist faded into the ether.
The world grew quiet once more, the balance precariously restored. For a fleeting moment, Eidolon allowed itself to hope, its fractured awareness focused on the most unlikely of its champions.
“Luna,” it whispered in a voice that only she could hear. “How?”
Luna could only shake her head, her voice soft as she replied, “I don’t know.” But her chest felt heavy, her breath uneven as she looked around at the calm she had somehow brought back to the world. Her hands still trembled, the residual warmth of the silvery mist fading but leaving a faint, tingling trace. The Rift's voice, though faint, had carried a profound sorrow that struck her deeply, as if it wasn’t just a force but a being desperately clinging to life.
Her heart ached for it. The Rift wasn’t just chaos—it was pain, confusion, and fear, a reflection of something she couldn’t quite name but felt in the deepest part of herself. “You’re…hurting,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. Her words weren’t a question but a quiet acknowledgment.
The Rift didn’t respond, but Luna sensed its awareness, its vast presence lingering around her like a shadow of desperation and gratitude. For the first time since she entered Eidolon, she didn’t see the Rift as a threat or an obstacle to overcome. Instead, she saw it as something fragile, teetering on the edge of existence, and for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, she wanted to protect it.