The village elder or grandma Sherry, as all the children fondly called her, finally brought her chanting to a gentle stop.
The fire crackled behind her, sparks spiraling into the darkening sky as she rested both hands on the top of her carved wooden staff. The flames painted her silver hair in shades of gold and orange, and though her body was thin with age, her presence still carried weight.
She looked down at the four children standing before her and smiled warmly.
"Today," she began, her voice steady despite the years behind it, "you will each have the chance to awaken a class, just as I did when I was your age."
The villagers leaned in slightly.
The children stood straighter.
"But," she continued gently, her tone softening, "I do not want you to let your hopes run too far ahead. Awakening a class is a blessing, yes, but it is not the only way to protect or support this village."
Her eyes swept across their young faces.
"Even if you do not awaken tonight, you are no less important. A village survives because of all its people, not only because of those gifted with power."
The words were kind and reassuring, but the children barely reacted.
Lucy stared at the glowing circle carved into the wooden platform with wide eyes. The adventurous-looking boy beside her was practically vibrating with anticipation. Chester wore an overconfident grin. And Tallow,
Tallow believed.
Deep down, each of them was certain it would happen for them.
Grandma Sherry saw it in their faces.
Youth rarely listens to caution.
After a brief pause, she gave a small nod to herself.
There was no more to say.
It was time.
Her gaze moved slowly across the line of children before settling on the smallest among them, a frail-looking girl standing at the end.
"Lucy," she said gently, her voice carrying across the clearing. "Come up here, child."
Lucy swallowed and stepped forward.
The villagers parted slightly as she climbed the wooden steps to the platform. She moved carefully, her ceremonial garments rustling softly as she entered the intricate circle carved into the wood at the center of the stage.
The markings within the circle were ancient, symbols layered upon symbols, forming patterns that few in the village truly understood.
Grandma Sherry stepped back slightly and lifted her staff.
The chanting began again.
The language was old, older than the village, older than the elder herself. The words flowed from her lips in rhythmic cadence as she moved slowly around the circle.
Her staff traced arcs in the air.
The fire responded.
The air thickened.
Then,
She brought the staff down sharply at the edge of the circle.
The moment it struck, the carved symbols flared.
A blinding white light erupted upward, engulfing Lucy entirely.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Many villagers shielded their eyes.
Only the elder remained steady, her gaze fixed within the glow.
Seconds passed.
The light pulsed.
Then slowly,
It faded.
When it disappeared completely, Lucy stood exactly where she had before.
No aura.
No spectral form.
No mark.
Grandma Sherry's shoulders lowered ever so slightly.
She stepped forward and gently placed a hand on the girl's head.
"It's alright, Lucy," she said softly. "You may go back to your parents."
Lucy's lips trembled, but she nodded bravely and hurried down from the platform. Her mother quickly wrapped her in an embrace.
She had failed to awaken.
The elder turned her attention to the next child.
The adventurous-looking boy stepped forward without being called, trying to hide his nerves with enthusiasm.
The ritual repeated.
The chanting.
The staff.
The surge of light.
Again, the brilliance swallowed the child whole.
Again, the crowd held its breath.
Again,
Nothing.
The light faded.
The circle dimmed.
Grandma Sherry exhaled quietly.
"You may return to your family," she said gently.
The boy's confident posture sagged as he stepped down.
A faint ripple of tension spread through the villagers.
Two attempts.
Two failures.
Tallow felt his throat tighten.
He glanced to his left.
Chester stood beside him.
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
They didn't need to.
They both smiled.
It was the kind of smile boys share before jumping into a river they're afraid of.
"Chester," the elder called.
Chester's grin widened immediately.
"That's me," he muttered under his breath, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for battle.
He climbed the steps confidently, his larger frame casting a longer shadow across the platform.
As he stepped into the circle, even Grandma Sherry felt something stir in her chest.
Hope.
Chester was only eight years old, yet he stood taller than most boys several years older. His build was broader, his muscles naturally more defined. He had always been stronger than his peers, hauling logs with ease, running farther, lifting more.
If there was one child she would wager on…
It was him.
The elder began chanting again, this time her voice slightly stronger.
Her staff moved with more energy.
The flames surged higher.
The air vibrated faintly.
Then,
She struck the staff down.
The circle exploded in radiant light.
Brighter than before.
The villagers gasped collectively.
The glow did not simply rise, it expanded outward slightly, forcing several onlookers to shield their faces.
Grandma Sherry did not blink.
She leaned forward slightly, searching within the brilliance.
Then,
She saw it.
Behind Chester's small form, something immense began to take shape.
A phantom silhouette emerged.
Heavy armor.
Broad shoulders.
A massive greatsword resting against one shoulder.
The outline towered over the boy like a guardian spirit forged of steel and light.
Grandma Sherry's breath caught.
Her eyes widened.
The light faded slowly, but the afterimage of that spectral knight lingered in her mind.
Her hands trembled.
It had been years.
Years since she had seen such a manifestation.
Without hesitation, she reached beside her and pulled forward a massive ancient tome bound in thick beast hide. The metal clasps along its edges gleamed faintly in the firelight.
"Child, come here," she said urgently.
Chester blinked, startled by her tone.
He stepped forward quickly.
The elder grasped his right forearm and turned it gently.
There it was.
Just below the wrist.
A faint black marking shaped like a greatsword had appeared on his skin.
The elder's heart pounded.
Her fingers moved quickly as she opened the tome, flipping through page after page filled with inked symbols and class records passed down for generations.
The villagers watched in tense silence.
Finally,
She stopped.
Her eyes scanned the page.
Her lips parted.
Drawing in a deep breath, she raised her head and spoke loud enough for all to hear.
"Chester Donavin has awakened the Titan Knight class."
A murmur swept through the crowd.
"This class is recorded as one of immense strength and exceptional durability," she continued, her voice growing stronger. "The Titan Knight stands among the highest ranks of close-combat classes."
Her smile widened, so wide it almost seemed unnatural against her aged features.
She had hoped for an awakening.
She had prayed for one.
But a Titan Knight?
That was beyond expectation.
The clearing erupted into cheers.
Villagers clapped, shouted, and embraced one another. Some even wept openly.
After fifteen long years,
They had hope again.
Chester stood frozen for a moment before breaking into laughter.
"Did you hear that?" he shouted down at Tallow. "Titan Knight!"
The elder allowed the celebration to continue for a few moments, watching her people with something close to relief.
When Chester matured and was properly trained , he would become a shield for the village.
A sword.
A wall.
He would become her successor.
Then,
Her smile faltered slightly.
There was still one child left.
In the excitement, she had nearly forgotten.
Her gaze shifted toward Tallow, who stood alone at the base of the platform.
She quickly guided Chester down the steps with a firm but gentle hand.
"Go celebrate with your family," she told him quietly.
There would be time later to teach him.
Time to guide him.
Time to prepare him.
For now, the ceremony had to be completed properly.
It would look careless, and almost disrespectful, to end the ceremony prematurely.
Even if she did not expect much from the final attempt.
She turned back toward the crowd and raised her staff once more.
"Young Tallow," she called, her voice steady again. "Please come up here."