Adventurer of Many Professions

The line of anxious teenagers shifted uncomfortably, their nervous expressions deepening with every failed awakening. Each time the doors of the side hall opened, it was never with joy, but with a crushed spirit walking out; another hopeful candidate denied the chance to be more than ordinary.

Arya's fingers tightened around Raymond's right hand.

Her palm felt cold and clammy, a stark contrast to her usual warmth.

"Raymond..." she whispered, her voice small, laced with uncertainty.

Seeing her distress, Raymond gently brushed his left hand over hers, offering a reassuring squeeze. His voice was calm, even if his own nerves were starting to creep up on him.

"It's okay… It's okay…"

Even as he said it, he wasn't sure if he was trying to comfort Arya or himself.

A female priestess, clad in the traditional white robes of the temple, stepped out of the side hall.

She scanned the line of waiting youths, her expression unreadable. But for those paying close attention, her eyes softened just slightly, as if she had seen this scene too many times before, the endless cycle of hope and heartbreak.

She exhaled softly, then turned to the girl standing at the front of the line.

"Come in."

The girl stiffened for a moment before stepping forward.

As she disappeared inside, the heavy wooden doors creaked shut once more, sealing her fate behind them.

Moments later, the doors opened again and the girl emerged with lifeless eyes, her expression blank, as though her dreams had been stolen in an instant.

Another failure.

One after another, the cycle repeated.

Each time someone walked inside, they came out either with quiet disappointment or outright sobbing.

And still, no one had successfully awakened.

The statistics of the temple were ruthless, only one in a hundred would awaken into a true profession. The rest?

Ordinary. Forgotten. Left behind.

Arya's breathing grew shallow as she watched the line ahead shrink.

The closer her turn got, the more crushing the pressure became.

Her fingers clenched tightly around Raymond's arm. "Raymond, what if… What if I fail?"

She had started the morning bursting with excitement, but now that failure seemed like a very real possibility, she was terrified.

Raymond could see it in her eyes, the doubt creeping in.

And truthfully? Even he was getting nervous.

The last time he had stood in this very spot, waiting for his own awakening, it had been exactly the same, a long chain of failures before him.

Not a single successful awakening.

Back then, he had muttered to himself, searching for some reassurance.

And now, out of habit, he whispered again.

"It's fine… there are cushions in front… there are cushions in front…"

Arya, still gripping his arm, blinked in confusion. "Huh? Cushions?"

Raymond opened his mouth, then shut it again.

How was he supposed to explain that?

Before he could think of a response, the doors of the side hall swung open once more, but this time, a different sound erupted from within.

"I AWAKENED! I REALLY AWAKENED!"

A young man burst out of the side hall, his face flushed with excitement.

For the first time that morning, someone had succeeded.

His parents, dressed in simple clothing, gasped in delight.

"Roaldo! You really awakened?!"

The boy grinned and held out his arm, showing them the glowing mark etched into the back of his hand, a symbol that identified him as a Fighter.

"See? It's real!"

His family nearly broke into tears, shouting excitedly about throwing a celebration.

As they left, the tension in the square eased noticeably.

The sight of someone actually succeeding was a relief to everyone in line.

Even Arya sighed deeply, placing a hand over her chest. "Oh, thank the goddess… If no one awakened, I was seriously starting to think this whole thing was rigged."

Raymond, however, had one thought running through his mind.

"...Damn it. The cushion is gone."

He had been counting on a string of failures so that Arya wouldn't feel extra pressure, but now, seeing someone awaken before her, she would feel even more nervous about her own results.

Still, seeing her tension ease a little made Raymond relax.

After all, awakening depended entirely on magic affinity. It had nothing to do with luck, or whether someone had awakened before you.

The priestess's voice rang out once again.

"Next."

Arya froze for a moment, then turned to Raymond. "It's my turn."

Raymond nodded. "Go on. I'll be right here."

She exhaled sharply, her hand lingering in his for just a second longer before she stepped forward.

The wooden doors shut behind her, sealing her inside.

And Raymond stood there, watching, waiting, his nervousness finally sinking in.

If Arya failed to awaken…

Or worse, if she awakened into a non-combat profession like Pharmacist or Craftsman…

Then his plans for the future would have to change drastically.

He wanted her to awaken for her sake, not just for him.

Because he knew; deep down, she wanted this more than anything.

She wanted to stand beside him, not just wait for him to return from missions.

So he waited.

And hoped.

That when those doors opened again—

Arya would be smiling.

The moment the heavy wooden doors shut behind her, the world outside faded away.

The side hall was dimly lit, its stone walls illuminated by the soft glow of sacred candles. The air carried the faint scent of incense and old parchment, a solemn reminder of the countless awakenings that had taken place here before.

Arya stood at the entrance, her hands clenched into fists, her heart hammering in her chest.

This is it.

She had to awaken, she had to become a professional.

She wasn't content with waiting at home anymore, listening to Raymond's stories when he returned from missions, hearing about the dangers he faced while she sat uselessly behind.

He always made it sound lighthearted, but she wasn't a fool. She knew.

He hid the worst from her.

She could hear it in his tone, see it in his eyes, the exhaustion, the scars, the battles he had barely survived.

And the waiting...

Even if it was just a day, waiting for him to come back was agony.

Every moment, she feared that something had gone wrong, that he wouldn't return at all.

That one day, his luck would run out.

But if she awakened, if she became a professional, she could stand beside him.

She could fight with him, take on missions together, and help carry the burden he never spoke of.

No more waiting. No more helplessness.

She took a deep breath, determined.

The priestess standing at the front of the hall gave her a knowing look and beckoned her forward.

"Come here quickly."

Arya approached the center of the chamber, where a statue of the Sun Goddess stood in quiet majesty.

Though far smaller than the ten-meter-tall statue in the temple's main hall, this one was crafted with the same divine precision, a serene figure of radiant beauty, holding a red metal sphere in its right hand, symbolizing the sun.

The priestess gestured to the sphere. "Place your right hand on the sun."

Arya hesitated for only a second before extending her hand, pressing her palm against the cool metal surface.

Almost instantly, a wave of warmth pulsed through her fingers, spreading through her veins, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

It was a warmth unlike any other, not physical, but something deeper, something powerful.

The priestess nodded. "Good. Now, close your eyes… and pray with me."

Arya swallowed hard and obeyed, shutting her eyes as the priestess spoke.

"Great, holy, and merciful Sun Goddess—"

She repeated the words softly.

"Great, holy, and merciful Sun Goddess—"

"Grant me the power of awakening—"

"Grant me the power of awakening—"

"Allow my fragile body to gain extraordinary abilities!"

"Allow my fragile body to gain extraordinary abilities!"

The moment the words left her lips, the warmth in her palm shifted, surging up her arm like a river of fire.

Then—

Darkness.@@novelbin@@

A vast, endless black void stretched before her.

And in that darkness, something shimmered into existence—

A bow, drawn taut, its string stretched to the limit, an arrow ready to be released.

An Archer's Mark.

Her breath caught.

This was it.

This was her awakening.

Her heart pounded as she snapped her eyes open, excitement flooding through her.

Her gaze immediately dropped to her right hand, and there, etched into her skin, glowing faintly—

A symbol of a bow with a fully drawn string.

The mark of an Archer.

"I… I did it!"

Arya's voice trembled with disbelief and exhilaration.

"I—I've become an awakened one!"

She turned to the priestess, expecting a nod of acknowledgment, perhaps even a small smile.

But instead, the priestess was frozen, her mouth slightly open, her gaze fixed on the sun sphere as if she had seen something impossible.

Her expression was a mix of astonishment and disbelief.

Arya followed her gaze, confusion flickering in her eyes.

And then—

She saw it.

Two glowing numbers had appeared on the surface of the sun sphere.

And those numbers…

They represented her magic affinity. Explore stories at My Virtual Library Empire

Arya's breath hitched.

Even before seeing them fully, she knew—

Something wasn't normal.