"Zach Darnell, job transfer successful. New class: Chef!"
"...Talent Grade: E-Level."
…
In the wide, stone-paved square, all eyes were locked on the glowing Job Transfer Altar. Tension hung in the air—thick, heavy, and silent.
Students stood rigid, hearts pounding, while teachers, deans, and even the school's elderly principal looked on with anticipation. This ceremony was the most important moment in a student's life—the one that would define their path forever.
A voice murmured bitterly from the crowd, "Ugh, another life-class profession..."
The speaker was Mr. Bennett, head teacher of Class 3-A. He rubbed his temples in visible disappointment. "And still an E-level Talent…"
So far, seven students had taken the stage. All had awakened to life-type professions—cooks, tailors, herbalists—and not a single combat class. Mr. Bennett's mood darkened. With the odds of a combat awakening at around 30%, he expected at least one battle-class by now. This streak was starting to feel cursed.
Still, he forced a smile and approached the dejected student walking off the altar. He gave a few encouraging words, doing his best to save face.
Amid the crowd of Year 1 students, one boy stared in silent confusion, his eyes darting left and right.
"What the hell is going on…?"
He blinked.
Just moments ago, he was walking down a city street, happily enjoying an ice cream cone. Then, without warning, a garbage truck swerved out of control and barreled toward a little girl. Without thinking, he shoved her aside and took the full force of the impact.
"Wait... that truck... I died, didn't I?"
The memories hit him like a flood. But even more jarring were the new memories now flooding into his head—memories that didn't belong to him.
His name in this world was Lucas.
And this world… was nothing like Earth.
This was a reality where every human being awakened to a profession at age eighteen. A world that fused the mechanics of a video game with the brutal realism of survival. Vast wild zones, labyrinthine dungeons, monster-infested ruins—all were part of everyday life. Humans were confined to fortified Main Cities, protected by the powerful few: professional combatants.
At eighteen, citizens underwent the Job Transfer Ceremony, which determined their career and unlocked their latent abilities. From there, they could level up, gain strength, and become admired warriors—or remain in peaceful life professions that supported the war effort from the sidelines.
Combat classes were rare, prestigious, and dangerous—swordsmen, mages, archers, assassins, clerics. These were the elite. Life classes, on the other hand—blacksmiths, cooks, alchemists—lived far safer lives but held little respect on the battlefield.
Statistically, 70% of people awakened to a life profession.
Only 30% received combat professions, and those lucky few were treated like celebrities. Still, combat came with a price. Battling monsters meant constant danger and a high mortality rate. Talent Grades, from SSS down to F, further determined a person's growth potential. Each grade had three tiers—high, mid, and low—serving as a ceiling for one's strength and status.
"Wow... I've been transmigrated to a world that's basically an RPG!"
Lucas grinned despite himself. "This is insane... but kinda awesome too."
He took a breath and adjusted to the alien world rapidly settling into place inside his mind. If he was stuck here, he might as well make the most of it.
"Alright then," he whispered. "Just let me get a combat class—any combat class—and I'll figure out the rest."
"Hey, Lucas! What class are you hoping for?"
A chubby boy elbowed him in the ribs. It was Mason, his desk partner and, according to these memories, his best friend in this world. Mason had a round face, cheerful voice, and a nervous look in his eyes.
"Soldier? Mage?"
Lucas shrugged. "Honestly? Anything that lets me fight. I'll take a dagger over a spatula any day."
Mason nodded vigorously. "Same here. Just not... Blacksmith, please!"
That made Lucas chuckle.
Mason came from a long line of blacksmiths—his father, grandfather, and even great-grandfather were all renowned smiths in the capital. His rebellion against that legacy was legendary in their class. He'd always moaned to Lucas about not wanting to inherit the family business.
Now, it was his time to find out.
"Next: Mason Hill!"
Mason tensed but ran up with surprising speed. He placed his palm on the sacred crystal stone of the altar. White light engulfed his body. The crowd hushed.
"Mason Hill, job transfer successful: Combat Profession – Hammer Warrior!"
"…Talent Grade: B-Level."
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
Mason's jaw dropped. His whole body shook. Then, with a whoop of joy, he leapt into the air, looking like a flying beach ball.
"YESSS!! I DID IT!! I'M A COMBAT CLASS!"
Lucas clapped, genuinely happy for him.
Mason charged back down to the crowd like a kid on Christmas. "Lucas, did you hear that?! I'm not a blacksmith! I hold a hammer—but not in a forge!"
Lucas grinned. "True. You still hold a hammer, but now you get to swing it at monsters instead of anvils."
"Ha! Thor vibes, baby!"
Mason struck a pose like a comic book hero and burst into laughter.
The ceremony continued, student after student stepping up. Most left with life-class titles and disappointed looks, though a few beamed with pride at their unexpected fates. Not everyone wanted to fight; some were thrilled to become healers or potion-makers.
Then came a voice that froze Lucas in place.
"Next: Lucas Kane."
His heart thumped.
He walked slowly up the steps of the altar, the eyes of the crowd drilling into him. Taking a breath, he pressed his hand to the sacred stone.
And then—
BOOM!
A blinding rainbow-colored aura exploded around him. The colors swirled in divine arcs, illuminating the entire square.
Gasps rang out.
"Color aura?! That's an S-Level or higher Talent!"
The teachers leaned forward, jaws agape. Even the old principal stood up, eyes wide with disbelief.
From the crowd, Mason screamed, "THAT'S MY BRO! THAT'S MY BRO UP THERE!"
The officiator's voice trembled with awe.
"Lucas Kane, job transfer successful: Hidden Combat Profession—Shadow Assassin!"
"…Talent Grade: S-Level!"
The square erupted.
People screamed, cheered, clapped. Teachers looked at each other in stunned joy. A Hidden Class! And not just any hidden class—Shadow Assassins were elite stealth killers, capable of wiping out enemies before they ever knew danger was near.
Lucas stood still, bathed in the holy glow.
He had done it.
Not only had he awakened to a combat class, but it was a rare hidden profession with top-tier potential. His new life in this world—this wild, game-like reality—had just begun with a bang.
And it was only going to get crazier from here.
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