Daniel jogged toward the town center, while emptying his satchel by dropping the remaining scraps along the path, leaving the dolls and a money pouch.
A few minutes later, he reached his destination. The entrance was flanked by two armoured, spear-holding guards and a black-robed female figure stood in the middle.
As he walked closer, the black-robed figure raised her hand, signaling him to a stop.
Daniel halted before the entrance.
"Your name?" she asked in a firm, steady tone.
"Daniel Dikson"
She nodded slightly. "Your hand."
Daniel paused for a second, then extended his left hand, revealing the golden thread tied by the priestess.
She nodded again. "Daniel Dikson follow me."
She turned and glided inside, her movements were calm and silent, not a single footstep echoing.
Daniel matched her pace.
Before him stood the same wooden door, but this time there was no one was guarding it. The black-robed figure quietly opened it and stepped inside.
Daniel stepped through the door, only to see many people sitting calmly in the high-backed chairs, as if waiting for someone.
The room was bare and silent, its cold wooden walls and floor giving off a subtle chill. There were no windows, only lanterns hanging along the edges, casting a bright white glow.
The last time when he arrived, the room had felt half-formed and incomplete, with only a table and three people serving as judges. But now it appeared fully formed, stretching into a rectangular shape.
In the far corner stood two wooden doors, flanked on either side by black-robed figures who stood as if guarding them.
Between the doors was a central platform serving as a stage, with empty wooden lamps below, ready to be lit at any moment.
The figure leading Daniel walked toward the center and nodded to the guards. They nodded back and strode through the doors with decisive steps.
Daniel sat down in one of the chairs, keeping his expression calm.
*Ting-Ting-Ting-Ting*
The sound of a bell echoed through the room. Suddenly, the empty lamps below the stage flared to life.
Everyone's gaze was fixed straight ahead, their eyes wide with the element of surprise.
From the left door emerged, seven figures wearing a wing shaped cape adorned with different patterns like lightning, diamonds, stars and more.
The capes also shimmered in seven different colours of the spectrum—Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet.
They sat down in a row along the left edge of the room.
From the right door emerged four priests and four priestesses, who calmly took their seats along the right wall.
Meanwhile, one priest ascended the stage, holding a book.
He was the high priest.
"By God's grace, this year we have thirty-two healthy youngsters who are about to change their fates. Let us first stand, close our eyes, and pray to God before we begin." he said confidently, his words deliberate and unwavering.
Everyone stood and shut their eyes—though some kept theirs open, refusing to obey.
Two black-robed figures dragged three small stone pillars from the right door. Each chained to a metal platform on wheels, with a palm-sized pearl gleaming on top.
"Now, open your eyes and sit."
The assembly obeyed without a word.
"As you can see, there are three pearls on top of the pillars. The one on the left is the warrior's pearl, the middle one is the shaman's, and the one on the right is the craftsman's.
Now, I call your names, please step forward, Nicolas Hale," the priest commanded, his voice echoing through the hall.
Nicolas rose from the front row and approached the pillars. All eyes were locked on him.
"Place your palm on any of the pearls."
Nicolas raised his hand and confidently placed it on the left pillar—nothing happened. He tried the middle one—nothing happened. On the right—it glowed brightly.
"Nicolas hale," the priest said. "The God's have chosen you as the craftsman. Please return to your seat.
Next, Crant Vernard."
…
One by one, names were called. Twelve teenagers so far—and each one turned out to be a craftsman.
"Next, Daniel Dikson."
Daniel marched forward, his movements calm and steady. Without hesitation, he placed his palm on the left pillar—nothing happened.
A hint of disappointment flickered across his face.
He drifted his hand to the right pillar—it glowed brightly.
'What? Does that mean I'm also a craftsman too?' he thought.
Then, he placed his palm on the middle pillar—it shone even brighter than the right.
'Huh? It glowed? But—'
"My child," the priest said. "God has given you two paths. Now it is your sole decision which path you will take."
All eyes were locked on him—some leaning forward straightening their backs, some waiting silently for his decision.
'Hmm… Daniel, if you choose craftsman, you'll end up building other people's dreams… and maybe you'll be trapped in this tiny village without any power.
But if I choose shaman… and become like Lady Elira, I can assert dominance in the villages, and no one will be able to stop me.
Hehe… imagine, Daniel, imagine! You'd be the only shaman in the whole village. Wouldn't that be cool? I could use this power to earn money and eat meat every single day while pounding my hungry horny mother whenever I want. Damn it, I don't care, I'm locking it in.
"I choose shaman…" Daniel said, his shoulders straight, eyes rising toward the priest.
"As you will, as you choose. Daniel Dikson, you've chosen to be a shaman. Are you sure you want this path?" the priest said, eyes lowered in solemnity.
Daniel nodded. "Yes"
"Please return to your seat, my child. Next, Timber Harnes."
An hour later, every teenager had revealed their true selves. Out of thirty-two, only fourteen became shamans, while the rest chose to be craftsmen. Four youngsters faced dual paths like Daniel—but only one of them chose the shaman's path.
"Now, all the young craftsmen, please come forward and claim your rewards," the high priest intoned. "Once you have received them, you may leave."
One by one, those who had been chosen as craftsmen stepped forward. Each received a box and a scroll, then walked out the way they had come.
The three priests and four priestesses also departed with them.
Daniel sat calmly on the chair, hungry gnawing deep inside him. But little did he know—there was still one more thing left for the shamans.
"My young shamans, please stepped forward." the high priest said, descending from the stage.