The world I once knew was gone.
In the silence that followed its disappearance, a voice echoed through the black void.
"Open your eyes."
I obeyed without hesitation.
Light poured in.
Green. Brown. Shadows dancing across leaves.
The air was cool. Damp. Alive.
A forest?
I pushed myself upright and scanned the clearing. Movement caught my eye. To the left, someone stirred. Then another. Then dozens.
I wasn't alone.
Figures — maybe a hundred — were rising from the grass like sleepers waking from the same long dream. None of them looked familiar. No one spoke. Just dazed, blinking faces.
I tried to recall what I'd been doing before waking up. Before that voice.
Nothing came.
Only one word pulsed in my mind, etched into me like a brand:
Create.
As if summoned by the thought, I felt something stir — not nearby, but everywhere.
A presence. Old. Mysterious. Something ancient buried beneath the skin of this world.
It called to me.
Not with words, but with pull.
Like a magnet, or a compass needle spinning slowly until it found true north.
I wasn't the only one who felt it.
The others began moving — slowly at first, in a daze, then with growing certainty. We were all drawn to it, to something ahead. No one gave orders. No one asked questions.
We just… followed.
The forest stretched around us like a cathedral. Massive pine trees loomed overhead, their trunks thick and rooted deep. The ground was soft, layered in needles, dirt, and fresh green moss.
Pine cones cracked underfoot. A gentle breeze carried the scent of sap and soil.
Above us, the sky was a strange cotton blend of blue and pink, the clouds painted like a sunrise held in suspension.
It was quiet.
No birds. No wind. No wildlife.
Only the sound of footsteps — a hundred of them — padding softly across the forest floor.
We walked for hours. No one asked where we were going.
We didn't need to.
We all felt it. That invisible pull. That internal whisper saying:
This way. Just a little further.
When we finally broke through the treeline, the forest gave way to a massive clearing.
And in the center stood a stone unlike anything I'd seen.
Ten meters tall.
Rough grey surface carved with symbols that glowed faintly blue — like light caught under water.
It radiated something impossible to describe. Power. Authority. Age.
It was the source. The anchor. The thing we'd all been pulled toward.
We didn't have a name for it then.
Not yet.
We just stood in silence and stared.
Some called it a monument. Some called it a relic.
But eventually, we would come to know it as:
The Job Stone.
Back then, though… we just called it The Thing.
I drifted to the edge of the clearing, away from the crowd.
I didn't know anyone here. And frankly, I didn't want to. Everyone looked just as lost and confused as I felt, and small talk wasn't going to solve that. Trust wasn't something I gave easily — especially not in a world I'd woken up in without warning.
So I found a quiet patch of pine and built a crude shelter.
Just a frame of sticks, draped with pine leaves.
I layered dried needles for a bed. Nothing fancy — but dry, hidden, and warm enough.
It would do.
Hunger came next. I wandered into the forest and found a cluster of strange-looking berries. I sniffed them. No weird smell. I took only what I could carry.
By the time I returned, the clearing had changed.
A crowd had formed near the stone. Not chaos, not panic — a line.
People were stepping up to it one by one. Each time someone touched it, they received something — a tool, a weapon — and walked away with a look that said they knew what came next.
Curious, I dropped my foraged berries by my camp and joined the line.
The guy ahead of me had messy hair and twitchy eyes. I tapped his shoulder.
"What's going on? What's that thing doing?"
He turned and gave a half-smile. "It's giving people jobs. And gear. Tools. Weapons, I think."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why would I need a job?"
He shrugged. "Apparently, it lets you pick a class — then it gives you something based on that choice. Like, if you choose warrior, you get a sword or something. Maybe even an ability tied to your role."
I frowned. "You sound like you've done this already."
"Nah," he said, looking away. "I, uh… know a guy."
"Right." I took a small step back.
This is exactly why I don't talk to people.
As the line crept forward, my thoughts drifted. What would I choose? Something practical? Something combat-focused?
Create.
That voice again.
Not a whisper this time. A presence.
Suddenly, I felt it — the pull to shape, to carve, to build. My fingers twitched with phantom weight. Like they were meant to hold something — not to destroy, but to construct.
The choice was clear.
When the twitchy guy in front of me walked away holding some kind of rod, it was finally my turn.
I stepped up to the stone.
It felt even more ominous up close — tall, ancient, and humming with quiet power. The air around it was heavier, like gravity bent inward.
I reached out to touch it.
Nothing happened.
Something pushed back. Like magnets repelling each other. I couldn't connect.
Then, a thin black sheet shimmered into view in front of me — translucent, like dark glass. Symbols floated across its surface. Hundreds of grey circles, all webbed together like a spider's web. Only three of them glowed faintly, etched with distinct icons: a sword, a compass, and a hammer.
I reached toward the sword first.
A second screen blinked into existence beside the first, displaying:
[Fighter]
A basic combat class specializing in short-sword combat.
[Possible Subclasses]
Warrior | Paladin | Knight | Archer
I hesitated. Then moved to the compass icon.
[Pathfinder]
A basic exploration class specializing in discovering the unknown.
[Possible Subclasses]
Scout | Cartographer | Librarian | Astronomer
I took a mental note of both.
But it was the hammer that pulled me forward.
I tapped the third glowing circle.
[Builder]
A basic building class specializing in creation.
[Possible Subclasses]
Crafter | Woodworker | Stone-Carver | Harvester
I tried to select one of the subclasses — but my hand phased through the screen.
Locked.
Before I could think more, someone behind me scoffed.
"Pick something useful like a warrior! Don't be a useless builder."
I didn't respond.
I pressed the hammer again.
A third screen appeared — this one to the right:
[Name]: Kairo Veldt
[Title]: None
[Level]: 0 / 99
[Job]: N/A
[Class]: N/A
[Sub-Class]: N/A
[Confirmation: Make Builder your class?]
[Yes] | [No]
I paused.
"Level?" "Title?" What did that mean?
But the line behind me started murmuring impatiently.
I didn't need their approval. I didn't need to understand everything right now.
I pressed Yes.