So, here's how this rigged game called "Life" works. You hit age 15, you drag yourself to the local church, and you pray the gods aren't in a bad mood. You touch a fancy glowing orb, and boom. It spits out your destiny.
For us commoners? It's usually the boring stuff. Farming. Blacksmithing. Basic Archery. You know, the NPC roles. The Nobles? They get the flashy stuff. Magic. Fireballs, lightning, bending reality: the cool toys are strictly reserved for the blue-bloods.
But, every once in a blue moon, the system glitches. A commoner pulls a "Special Skill." Swordmaster. Berserker. Or the jackpot: The Hero.
Get one of those, and you get the Golden Ticket: An invite to the Imperial Academy. It's the VIP lounge of the Kingdom. Best education, best food, and let's be real a chance to rub shoulders with princesses and dukes. Maybe one of them falls for your "rugged commoner charm," and suddenly you're marrying into money. It's the ultimate win-win.
Sure, you can get strong without a blessing. You can swing a sword ten thousand times a day and eventually beat a guy with a "Swordmaster" gift. But let's be honest that takes years. The blessing is a cheat code. And who doesn't love a cheat code?
And today my big brother, Shawn Reed, was turning 15.
Now, you have to understand something about Shawn. The guy is annoying. Not because he talks too much he barely speaks at all but because he's naturally better than everyone. He's the stoic, cool type. While other kids were playing tag, Shawn was swinging a wooden stick until his hands bled. Even without a blessing, he was already cutting through training dummies like butter.
Everyone in town had their eyes on him. The local guards, the neighbors, even the stray dogs. We all knew he was going to be something.
Shawn steps up to the altar. He looks bored, honestly. The priest, a shaky old guy, holds out the Orb. "Are you ready, my son?"
Shawn just nods. "Yes."
He touches the glass.
Usually, the orb glows a soft white for a commoner. Maybe blue for a noble. For Shawn? It exploded with Golden Light. It was blinding. I had to cover my eyes, and I was standing in the back.
When the light died down, the text floated in the air for everyone to see. [Class: HERO]
The silence was loud. Then? Absolute chaos. The priest nearly had a heart attack. The crowd lost their minds.
Me? I was grinning like an idiot. I had one guy in a loose headlock, half from excitement, half because he was in the way, laughing as I said, "I knew it. I knew it. The gods aren't blind. They saw the work he put in."
I looked toward the altar, chest tight with pride.
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"My brother. The Hero. The ticket out of this backwater town."
Of course, greatness breeds haters. After the news spread, people got jealous. Since they couldn't touch Shawn. He's the "Hero" now, untouchable, they came for me. I became the designated punching bag for the envious kids in the neighborhood.
Did I care? Please. I let them talk. I let them throw their punches. It didn't matter. My brother was destined for the Academy at 18. And me? I share his blood. I'm a Reed. If he's a diamond, I'm at least a sapphire, right?
So, I trained. I worked my ass off. I copied Shawn's routine. I prepared for my turn.
Fast forward to today.
I'm 15. It's my turn. The expectations? heavy. "Oh, that's the Hero's little brother," they whispered. "He's definitely getting a Special Skill." "Maybe he'll be a Sage?"
I walked up to the altar. I wasn't nervous. I was excited. I was ready to claim my prize. I smoothed back my hair, gave the priest a little finger-gun salute, and placed my hand on the Orb.
'Alright, big guy upstairs,' I thought. 'Show me what you got. Swordmaster? Grand Mage? Surprise me.'
I waited for the light. I waited for the warmth. I waited for the text.
...
Nothing.
I tapped the glass. "Hello? Is this thing on?"
Still nothing. No light. No text. Not even a "Farmer" or "Beggar" class. The Orb remained a cold, dead piece of glass.
The priest frowned, wiping his glasses. He checked the orb. He had me lift my hand and place it again.
Nothing.
The silence in the church was different this time. It wasn't awe. It wasn't reverence. It was pity. Confusion. The kind that made people avert their eyes because they didn't know where to look.
In a world where everyone was given a role, mine hadn't even been written.
No one said anything as we left. No condolences. No whispers worth hearing. Just the sound of footsteps echoing behind us as the doors of the church closed.
By the time we reached the road home, it felt less like a walk and more like a funeral procession.
The only difference was that the corpse was still walking, and it was me.
My parents? Silent. My little sister, Mira? Silent. The air was so thick you could cut it with a knife or well, Shawn could probably cut it.
The quiet was agonizing. It was itching under my skin. I hate silence; it gives your brain too much time to realize how screwed you are. So, naturally, I decided to ruin it.
"Hey, maybe if Big Bro was here, his aura alone would've bullied the Orb into working," I said, throwing my hands behind my head and forcing a grin. "Maybe I would've squeezed out a 'Beggar' skill at least? I'd be the best beggar in the capital. High earnings, tax-free."
...Crickets.
My dad didn't even blink. Mom stared straight ahead. And Mira? She's only eleven, but she looked at me with eyes way too old for her face. Usually, she'd giggle or tell me to shut up. Today? Nothing. That hurt more than the Orb did. Since when did she get so mature? It's unnerving.
We finally reached the house. The sanctuary. Or the prison. Depends on how you look at it.
"I'm heading to the shop," Dad grunted, not making eye contact. He turned on his heel before I could even nod. Escaping into work. Classic.
"I need to... I need to go to the market," Mom added quickly, her voice a little too high. She grabbed Mira's hand. "We need things for dinner. Mira, come with me."
They left. Just like that. They couldn't stand to be in the same room as the disappointment.
"Have fun," I called out to their backs. They didn't turn around.
I walked into my room and shut the door. Finally. No eyes on me. No pity.
I flopped onto my bed, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, folding my hands behind my head. I crossed my legs, swinging one foot lazily in the air.
"It's fine," I said aloud to the empty room. My voice sounded steady. Good. "It's actually hilarious, right? The 'Hero's' brother turns out to be a blank slate. It's poetic. Subversive."
I kept talking. If I kept talking, I wouldn't have to think.
"Besides, I wasn't really feeling the whole 'divinely approved' thing anyway. Who needs a skill? I'll just get strong the hard way. Plenty of people in town don't have combat skills. The baker is happy. The smith is happy. I'll just be... a really athletic nobody."
I chuckled. But the chuckle died in my throat.
I blinked, and suddenly my vision was blurry. What the hell?
I wiped my eyes, but my hand came away wet. "Oh, come on," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Don't be pathetic."
But the dam broke.
I gritted my teeth, trying to force the feeling back down, but it felt like my chest was being ripped open. I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow so the neighbors wouldn't hear me.
It wasn't fine. It wasn't poetic. It was a disaster.
Everything I dreamed of—gone. The Imperial Academy? Gone. Standing side-by-side with Shawn? Gone. Proving to everyone that I wasn't just 'Shawn's little brother'? Impossible now.
"Why?" I choked out, clutching the bedsheets until my knuckles turned white. "What did I do wrong? I trained just as hard. I wanted it just as bad."
The unfairness of it burned hotter than any fire magic. I wasn't asking to be a Hero. I just wanted a chance. I just wanted to be something.
For the first time in my life, I didn't feel cool. I didn't feel confident. I felt small.