Chương 8: Chapter 2 The First Gate Contractor(Part 3 )

One particular term caught my attention.

"What's an EX Class?" The explanation I'd received left a gap. If jobs were divided into Lower, Middle, Upper, Special, and EX, then why couldn't I find any EX jobs on the list?

"EX occupations are special cases." The voice answered immediately.

"They do not belong to standard classifications."

"There are two methods of acquisition." I settled in and listened.

"Method one: obtain specific combinations of Upper-Class occupations and exceed required aptitude thresholds."

"In such cases, the Upper-Class occupations disappear and are replaced by a single EX occupation." Evolution classes. Advanced classes. Prestige classes. Whatever terminology applied, they sounded powerful. Combining multiple advanced jobs into something even stronger was a familiar concept in games.

"And the second method?"

"Extremely high compatibility." The voice continued.

"If an individual's aptitude for a specific EX occupation greatly exceeds all others, the occupation manifests directly."

"Likewise, individuals possessing no compatibility with any other occupation automatically receive an EX occupation." That sounded... dangerous. Either overwhelmingly talented or hopelessly specialized. Probably both. I turned my attention back to the occupation list. One problem continued bothering me. Magic. A swordsman used swords. A martial artist used fists. Simple. Understandable. Magic, however, didn't exist. At least not on Earth. Which meant any magic-related occupation risked becoming useless.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Yet there were countless magical professions on the list. Mage. Wizard. Warlock. Sorcerer. Sage. Witch. And many more. The system supposedly translated occupations using concepts from my own language. That made sense for something like Alchemist becoming Chemist. But how exactly did one translate a nonexistent profession into "Wizard"? I looked up.

"Another question."

"What exactly is magic?"

"My people can't use it."

"It's a fictional concept. Something that only exists in stories." For the first time, the voice answered without hesitation.

"Make fiction real." I blinked.

"... What?"

"Think."

"Imagine."

"Dream."

"Manipulate."

"Manifest."

"Break established laws."

"Occupation acquisition enables understanding." The voice paused. Then added the part I really didn't want to hear.

"All occupations remain active outside the gate." Ah. There it was. The truly terrifying part. Jobs worked outside. Magic worked outside. Meaning that sooner or later, people would start throwing fireballs in the real world. I had no idea how flexible or powerful magic actually was. But if it functioned even remotely the way fantasy novels suggested, humanity's future was about to become extremely complicated. Which meant someone needed to understand it. Someone needed to test it.

Preferably before millions of people gained access. Unfortunately, that someone was probably me.

"Fine." I exhaled slowly.

"I understand enough."

"I'm ready to choose." I glanced through the occupation list one final time. At forty-three years old, becoming a frontline fighter sounded miserable. Swordsman? No thanks. Martial Artist? Absolutely not. My back hurt enough already. If I was going to become humanity's volunteer sacrifice, then magic seemed like the smarter route.

"I choose Sage." The holographic list flashed. In most games, Sages occupied a convenient middle ground. Powerful magic. Decent knowledge. Enough versatility to survive emergencies. Besides, maybe becoming a Sage would make me smarter. Lord knew I could use the help. And if I had to guess? Sage felt suspiciously like an EX-class prerequisite.

"Second occupation?" I hesitated. There were plenty of choices. But eventually I made my decision.

"Witch." A Witch carried different associations. Potion brewing. Medicine. Alchemy. Support skills. If people were going to explore gates and fight monsters, healing resources would become essential. Being able to manufacture medicine safely outside the gates could save countless lives. Even if the combat side proved disappointing, support capabilities alone would justify the choice. No idea what rank Witch belonged to. Probably not Lower-Class. At least I hoped not. Honestly, I was pretty pleased with myself.

For the record, historical witches weren't always women. The term had been applied rather indiscriminately throughout history. So I wasn't particularly worried about the name. The moment I finalized my selection, the voice changed. Its tone became noticeably different. More mechanical. More distant.

"Selection acknowledged." A brief pause. Then:"Critical aptitude deficiency detected." My smile vanished.

"... Excuse me?"

"Occupation change prohibited by highest-priority system directive."

"Deficiency compensation required."

"Proposal: supplementation through offerings provided by selector." I stared into empty space. Slowly. Very slowly.

"What." The voice continued as if nothing were wrong.

"Negotiation protocol initiated."

"Please present offerings."

"Accepted offerings will be permanently removed from your possession." Permanent. Removed. That sounded alarmingly close to organ harvesting. My heart immediately became suspicious. I wasn't about to hand over anything vital before even starting the job.

"Anything?"

"Presented items will undergo appraisal and negotiation."

"If item purpose is unknown, explanation will be requested." That was troublesome. I couldn't even see what I was negotiating with. No face. No body. No expressions. No clues. As for my possessions, I wasn't exactly carrying valuable treasures. Work clothes. A smartphone. A lighter. Cigarettes. That was about it. Technology? Knowledge? The aliens were clearly far more advanced than humanity. Those wouldn't impress them. Still... Maybe I was thinking too narrowly. It never said the offering had to be an object.

"All right." I made my first proposal.

"My body hair." A pause.

"Clarify."

"Everything except the hair on my head, eyebrows, and eyelashes." The silence that followed was almost comical. Then:"... Purpose?"

"It's a defensive biological mechanism used by humans." Not technically a lie. Body hair had once served practical evolutionary purposes. A flash of light covered my body. Then the response arrived.

"Insufficient." I rolled up my sleeve. Smooth skin. Completely hairless. Even my beard was gone. Permanent hair removal companies would kill for this technology. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. I sighed.

"Then how about this?"

"Forty kilograms of excess weight."

"And twenty percent of my body fat."

"Purpose: stored energy reserves." Another flash. A metallic clatter followed. I looked down. My pants had fallen straight to the ground. Apparently gravity had won the battle against my newly reduced waistline. The difference was immediate. My belly was gone. My body felt light. Years younger. I even jumped a few times just to test it. Not quite military-service fit. But close enough.

"Still insufficient." Of course it was. The universe never let things be easy.