"Hiyori Yamamoto."
I stepped forward.
No hesitation. No expectations.
The floor beneath me lit up again—different from before. Smaller. Focused. A circle etched with symbols that looked like they were trying to explain something I wasn't supposed to understand yet.
A thin plate of light formed in front of me.
Not solid.
Not liquid.
Just… there.
I reached out.
The moment my fingers touched it, something moved.
Not outside.
Inside.
Like a system booting up.
Text burned into existence.
Name: Hiyori Yamamoto
Job: Forge Weaver
That was it.
No fanfare.
No glow that made people gasp.
No sudden pressure that bent the air.
Just two words.
Forge Weaver.
"…Huh."
Not from me.
From the room.
It wasn't silence.
It was that half-second pause where people didn't know how to react yet.
Then the noise came back.
"…Forge what?"
"Is that—like crafting?"
"Wait, that's not a combat class, right?"
There it was.
Not ridicule.
Not yet.
Just… uncertainty.
I pulled my hand back slowly, eyes still on the plate as it faded out.
Forge Weaver.
The words sat heavier in my head than they should've.
Not because they sounded weak.
Because they sounded incomplete.
"Hey, Captain."
Of course.
I didn't even have to look.
Kaito's voice cut through the room clean, confident, as he'd already decided how this was going to go.
"What's a Forge Weaver?"
He wasn't asking for himself.
He was asking for the room.
Setting the stage.
I shifted my gaze toward the front.
A man in armor stepped forward—the same one who'd been watching us since we arrived. Tall. Broad. Presence that didn't need volume.
A captain.
He looked at me once. Brief. Assessing.
Then answered.
"A Forge Weaver specializes in the crafting and replication of weapons and equipment."
The room leaned in slightly.
Kaito folded his arms, listening like he was interested.
The captain continued.
"With sufficient knowledge, materials, and mana control, they can produce high-quality armaments."
That part mattered.
I caught it immediately.
Knowledge.
Materials.
Mana control.
Noted.
Then—
"However…"
There it was.
"They are not suited for direct combat."
And just like that, the room decided what it meant.
The shift was subtle.
But it was there.
"Oh… so like support?"
"Yeah, like a blacksmith or something."
"That's still useful, right?"
"Yeah, but not like… frontline."
I didn't react.
Didn't need to.
The explanation told me more than the reaction did.
Replication.
Not creation.
Meaning I didn't start from zero.
I copied.
Which meant—
Understanding mattered more than power.
"Conditional," I thought. "Not weak."
I stepped back into place without saying anything.
No one stopped me.
No one really looked at me anymore, either.
That didn't last.
"Next!"
The ceremony rolled on.
Names called. Light flared. Plates formed.
Reactions got louder.
"Holy Sword Saint—!"
"Wait—seriously?!"
"Archmage?!"
"Yo, that's broken—!"
Reiji stepped forward when his name was called.
Of course he did.
The light reacted differently to him.
Brighter.
Sharper.
Like it recognized something.
Holy Sword Saint
The room erupted.
Not just excitement.
Relief.
That's what it was.
"We've got a real hero."
Reiji didn't smile as he expected him to.
He bowed his head slightly as he accepted it.
Like it was something he was supposed to carry.
It fit him.
That was the problem.
Kaito went next.
No hesitation in his stride.
The light flared.
Holy Knight
Cheers again.
Different energy this time.
Louder.
Kaito grinned, rolling his shoulders as he'd just been handed confirmation of something he already knew.
"Yeah," he said, mostly to himself. "That makes sense."
Of course it did.
More names.
More classes.
Sword Saint.
Archmage.
Holy Healer.
Then—
Other ones.
"Farmer…?"
A middle-aged man near the back—our teacher—blinked at his plate like it personally offended him.
"Alchemist."
"Enchanter."
"Scout."
The reactions dipped a little.
Not as loud.
Still accepted.
Still useful.
Just… not celebrated.
I watched it all.
Patterns forming in real time.
Combat classes at the top.
Support beneath them.
No one said it directly.
They didn't need to.
"That's how it works," I thought. "Every time."
Then—
Kaito laughed.
Not loud enough to be disruptive.
Just enough to be heard.
"So we got fighters… and then we got support."
There it was.
He didn't look at anyone specific.
Yet.
"Guess we know who's actually going out there."
A couple of people chuckled.
Not malicious.
Just… easy.
That's how it spreads.
Ideas don't need force.
Just momentum.
Then his eyes landed on me.
Of course they did.
"Forge Weaver, huh?"
He tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to figure something out.
"So you're making weapons for us?"
There it was.
Clean.
Simple.
And loaded.
You serve.
You stay behind.
You support.
I met his gaze.
Didn't move.
"If you can use them."
That was all I said.
Not loud.
Didn't need to be.
The words sat there.
For a second, the noise dipped again.
Kaito's smile didn't disappear.
But it changed.
Just a little.
There it was again.
That flicker.
Didn't expect that answer either.
Then he laughed it off.
"Yeah, aight," he said. "We'll see."
He turned away like it didn't matter.
It did.
"That doesn't sound like a bad class."
The voice came from my left.
Armani.
Of course.
She stepped forward just enough to be heard—not just by me.
By everyone nearby.
"If he can make weapons, that helps everyone."
No hesitation.
No softness to hide behind.
Just… direct.
A few people nodded.
"Yeah, that's true."
"Support classes are still important."
The narrative shifted slightly.
Not completely.
But enough.
Kaito noticed.
Again.
Of course he did.
That bothered him more than the class itself.
I didn't look at her.
Didn't acknowledge it.
But I heard it.
Felt it.
"She didn't hesitate," I thought.
That mattered more than it should've.
"Everyone."
Reiji's voice cut in—not loud, but it carried.
The room settled.
Naturally.
"We all have different roles," he said. "But we're here for the same reason."
He looked around, making eye contact where it mattered.
"We'll need all of them to survive."
It was a good speech.
Clean.
Reassuring.
Exactly what people wanted to hear.
And he meant it.
That was the part people trusted.
I watched him for a second.
"He already sounds like he belongs here."
That should've bothered more people than it did.
The ceremony ended not long after.
Not abruptly.
Just… efficiently.
Like we'd been sorted into categories and filed accordingly.
Because we had.
Groups started forming.
Not official.
Just natural.
Combat classes drifted toward each other.
Excitement.
Energy.
Plans already forming.
Support classes are clustered differently.
Quieter.
More uncertain.
I didn't move.
Didn't need to join anything.
Didn't need to pretend.
I replayed the captain's words instead.
Replication.
Knowledge.
Mana control.
"People heard 'not suited for combat' and stopped thinking."
Same mistake.
Every time.
"You don't start with damage," I thought. "You start with systems."
If I could replicate—
Then I could improve.
If I understood—
Then I could control.
If mana scaled with precision—
Then efficiency mattered more than raw output.
"…Yeah."
This wasn't weak.
It was just difficult.
"Hiyori."
I didn't turn immediately.
Didn't need to.
"…What?"
Armani stepped up beside me again.
Closer this time.
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
She didn't move.
Didn't accept that answer.
"You don't have to pretend."
"I'm not."
A pause.
She studied my face like she was trying to read something I wasn't showing.
"You don't have to disappear, you know."
I almost laughed.
Didn't.
"…I'm right here."
"That's not what I mean."
Of course it wasn't.
I didn't answer.
Didn't know what to say that wouldn't make it worse.
Or more complicated.
She exhaled softly.
"Just… don't shut me out, okay?"
I looked at her then.
Really looked.
Same as always.
Warm.
Direct.
Too honest for this kind of situation.
"…I won't," I said.
It wasn't a promise.
But it wasn't anything either.
She nodded.
Like that was enough.
For now.
"Alright, move out!"
The captain's voice cut through the room again.
"Combat classes will report for immediate assessment and training."
There it was.
No delay.
No hesitation.
"Support roles will be assigned accordingly."
Accordingly.
Polite word.
Clear meaning.
Different priorities.
Different value.
"They weren't wrong," I thought. "Just selective."
Groups started moving.
Kaito passed by me on his way forward.
Close enough to speak without anyone else hearing.
"Try not to fall behind," he said lightly. "Wouldn't want our blacksmith getting lost."
I didn't look at him.
"You talk like armor makes you useful."
He stopped for half a second.
Just enough.
Then kept walking.
Didn't respond.
Didn't need to.
But I felt it.
That irritation.
That pressure is building.
Good.
We were led out in separate directions not long after.
Different halls.
Different paths.
Different roles.
Just like that.
No ceremony.
No transition.
Just… sorted.
I walked in silence.
Not with anyone.
Not away from anyone.
Just moving.
Thinking.
Forge Weaver.
I turned the words over again.
Not how they sounded.
How they worked.
Replication.
Knowledge.
Mana control.
Scaling.
Limitations.
Conditions.
"Fine."
If no one else was going to figure it out—
I would.
Because the system didn't decide everything.
People just stopped when it got complicated.
I didn't.
"Forge Weaver… huh."
I exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded as the pieces settled into place.
Replication.
Knowledge.
Mana control.
Everyone else heard limits.
I heard conditions.
That meant one thing.
There was a way to break it.
I glanced down at my hand—the same one that touched the plate.
Nothing special.
Not yet.
"…Fine."
If knowledge were the requirement—
Then I'd take everything this world had to offer.
Books. Systems. Magic. Structure.
I'd learn it all.
And once I understood it—
I'd rebuild it in my image.
"Forge Weaver…" I muttered under my breath.
"…Let's see what you can really do."