The Awakening

The bell rang, and half the class was already gone before the sound even faded. The Friday rush — chairs scraping, laughter echoing, uniforms blurring past the doorway.

“See you at registration tomorrow, Brawler!”

“Brawler? Try Healer, dude. I’m not getting punched for a living.”

Across the room, another voice chimed in, “Pfft, laugh all you want, but Archivists get government paychecks. I’ll be rich while you two are bleeding for experience.”

The usual noise. Everyone flexing their new titles like they’d just won the lottery.

I stayed seated, waiting for the stampede to pass before standing.

“Sigh.”

Awakening.

It all started about thirty years ago, when mysterious portals began tearing open across the world. From them came beasts—monsters straight out of nightmares. Humanity was losing, badly, until eighteen-year-olds began awakening. Gaining what are called "jobs.” Swordsman, Wizard, Healer, Tamer, Hunter, Archivist, Linguamancer, randomly assigned roles that determined your place in the new world.

Since then, life has basically become a lottery.

Your birthday could decide your entire future.

Most of my classmates dream of combat jobs, charging into dungeons, slaying monsters, earning glory and high pay. Once, I wanted that too. Maybe a Wizard. I would fire spells from a safe distance, y’know? The idea of going hand-to-hand with something that drools acid doesn’t exactly thrill me anymore.

Now? I’d rather awaken as a Linguamancer. Instantly fluent in every language known to man, working cushy gigs as a translator for presidents or CEOs.

My eyes drifted to Kenji. He sat quietly at his desk, staring at his hands. Yesterday was his eighteenth birthday.

No celebration. Just silence.

Did he not awaken?

Probably not. It’s rare, but it happens. By now, it’s almost safer to assume he just got a trashy job.

We didn’t talk much on the way home. 

Kenji walked a few steps ahead, hands in his pockets, head down. The air between us felt… awkward. I didn’t want to ask. There was still a chance he hadn’t awakened at all, and asking would just make it worse.

So we just walked. The sound of our shoes and the occasional hum of a passing car filled the silence.

I don't really get why people want combat jobs anymore. Sure, they sound cool in theory, swords, spells, all that fantasy hero crap. In games, you get loot and rare drops. Real life? Dungeons actually do not have anything of much value in.

If I had to pick, I’d go for something easy. Linguamancer’s still top of the list, but being an Empathist- basically a therapist, or maybe a Truthscriber would be cool too. The kind of job where you sit in an office, drink overpriced coffee, and tell yourself you’re changing the world.

I was halfway through imagining myself lecturing interns about “mana output efficiency” when Kenji’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Hey, Rei.”

I blinked. “Hm?”

“Guess what job I got.”

Oh. That question.

I hesitated. He didn’t sound excited. Didn’t sound proud either. His tone was flat, almost curious — like he was testing me.

I scratched the back of my neck. “Uh… Technopath?”

Kenji’s lips twitched, but his eyes didn’t match. “Hmm, that would be nice,” he muttered. “Control tech with my mind, wouldn't need keyboards anymore.”

He laughed once — short and empty.

“Not that one.”

“Okay,” I said, forcing a grin. “Then maybe… uh, Spectracker?”

That got a snort out of him. “That? It’s trash! All they are good for is sensing residue mana nothing else.” He actually laughed this time — a real laugh — but it cracked halfway through. His smile fell, and his shoulders sank.

“I awakened as a Tamer.”

I stopped walking. “Wait. Seriously?”

He nodded, still smiling, but his eyes shimmered under the fading light. “Yeah. The whole day I couldn’t believe it. Me. A Tamer.” He shook his head.

For a second, I didn’t know what to say. A Tamer. I wouldn't say it's rare, but it is..unoccasional.

Then I grinned. “Guess I’ll have to start calling you ‘Master Kenji,’ huh? Don’t forget me when you’re rich.”

He laughed again, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Idiot. Like I could.”

At the intersection, he turned toward his street and waved. “Good luck tomorrow, Rei.”

The evening wind carried his voice away, and I stood there for a moment, watching him disappear into the glow of the streetlights.

Yes, that is right, tomorrow was my turn, my birthday.

...

..

.

Upon arrival, I tossed my bag onto the bed and sighed. My apartment was small—just a single bedroom and a cramped bathroom—but it wasn’t bad. My parents said it was “an investment in my education.” 

Temporarily removing my glasses, I splashed some water on my face in the tiny sink. The reflection staring back looked the same as always—messy hair, dark circles.

My eighteenth birthday was tomorrow.

Which meant my Awakening was tomorrow.

I tried not to think about it, but the thought kept circling like a vulture. Tomorrow, some random cosmic dice roll would decide my entire life. White-collar class? Office job, steady pay. Or would it be, frontline class, great salary.

The more I thought about it, the less hungry I felt. Still, I opened the Chow Chaw app and ordered ramen and cola.

While waiting, I flopped onto the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. “Tomorrow, I’ll either be a productive member of society or a monster chow.”

It sounded like a joke, but my hands were actually shaking.

My ringtone cut through the silence. Mom.

“Hey, Rei!” Her voice came bright and warm, instantly softening my mood. “All set for the big day?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

“I wish I could come over,” she sighed. “The workshop’s drowning in orders again. They want another batch of blades enchanted before inspection.”

Mom was an Enchanter.

“It’s fine,” I said. “You’d just stress yourself out getting here.”

She laughed softly. “Still, I wanted to see you before the ceremony. Your father and Mika miss you. We’ll video call tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah,” I said, as the doorbell buzzed. “Food’s here. I’ll call you later.”

“Ok.Sleep early, Rei. Bye."

“Sure thing,” I said, hanging up.

The delivery guy handed me my ramen and cola.

Steam fogged my glasses as I sat cross-legged on the bed. The ramen tasted a little was salty, the cola a little flat today.

...

..

.

I must’ve dozed off mid-game. My controller was still in my hand when I woke up, the screen frozen on some loading menu.

Pain was what woke me up.

A sharp stab in my chest, like someone had rammed a live wire into my ribs. I sat up fast, gasping for air. It lasted maybe five seconds but those five seconds felt like forever.

Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

I leaned back against the wall, panting, staring at the ceiling.

A chime echoed through the room. Not from my phone. Not from my console. From… everywhere.

Then, in front of me, lines of glowing blue text materialized out of thin air:

[Congratulations! You have awakened!]

My brain stalled. “...What?”

The air shimmered, another window blinking into existence.

[Your job is—]

[NECROMANCER.]

I blinked. Once. Twice. Still there. The words just hung there, pulsing faintly like they were waiting for applause.

I rubbed my eyes, then looked again. Still there.

I sat there in the glow of the hologram, heart pounding, brain slowly piecing itself back together. I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t gaming. This was real.

Of all the possible jobs I could’ve gotten—Enchanter, Linguamancer, heck Spectracker, literally anything else, I had to get the one every parent warns their kid about before bed.

Necromancer. 

The cursed class. The hated job. The outcast.

I swallowed hard, staring at the floating words, and muttered,

“This can’t be good.”