Tobin tried to elbow his way toward the front, but the crowd packed around the shack wasn’t budging. Every time someone shifted, two more filled the gap. With a sigh, he leaned on the wooden staff Tutor Ezekiel had gifted him, craning his neck for a better view.

  He’d watched Amari’s new video the moment it dropped. His breakdown of JackOfDiamonds’s hidden class set his imagination spinning. With winter break just around the corner, he’d finally caved. He ran to the store, bought a helmet, made a fresh account, picked Bright Hill as his starting village, and sprinted here, hoping to catch the same hidden class.

  It seemed like such a clever idea, and he’d been fast. But apparently, so had everyone else.

  “Hey, is it true that rare quests are unique?” someone asked nearby.

  Tobin didn’t look, but he shifted slightly, angling his ear toward the voice.

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “I was messaging my friend, told him I was in Bright Hill trying to become a handyman, and he said it’s pointless. Rare quests only show up once.”

  Tobin’s brows pinched together. He'd heard something like that earlier, too.

  “What? That sounds fake. How could the developers afford to make one-time quests like that?”

  “No, no—it’s like... the system spawns similar rare quests in different places, with slightly different unlock conditions.”

  He glanced toward the voices now, trying to place the speaker. At first, he’d dismissed talk like that as bait to thin the crowd, but this was the third time he’d overheard that same explanation. And each time, whoever said it had left.

  Am I wasting my time here?

  Before he could decide, a loud crash rang out, as if someone had dropped a stack of plates, and a thick plume of smoke burst from somewhere near the shack.

  “Who did that?”

  “What is this smoke? I can’t see a thing.”

  The crowd stirred, coughing and muttering.

  There were two more crashes, and even more smoke.

  Tobin looked around, alarmed. What was happening? Was this some kind of in-game event? Maybe the prelude to the quest he was chasing?

  Then a soft melody drifted out over the confusion. Sweet, slow, and strangely soothing.

  Tobin blinked. The music was having an effect on him. His eyelids grew heavier. His thoughts slowed. Around him, voices faded. He swayed on his feet. The staff slipped from his grip. His knees buckled.

  What… is… happening…?

  The last thing he felt was the earth rushing up to meet him as the melody wrapped around his mind like a lullaby.

  Then everything went dark.

  *

  The moment Jack slipped inside the shack, Mr. Kevin slammed the door shut behind him and latched what had to be five different locks in quick succession.

  Jack couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Master Kevin had let him in again. That meant something. Amari was right—there was a quest here.

  “Tourists,” Kevin muttered, peering through a peephole at the groggy players stirring in the thinning smoke. “Why won’t they just leave me alone?”

  “Sorry, Master Kevin. I had to knock them out. They were clogging up the door,” Jack said.

  Kevin grunted. “Should’ve used explosives instead. You’d have done me a favor blasting them to kingdom come.”

  Without another word, he stomped over to the trapdoor in the floor, yanked it open, and disappeared down the ladder.

  Jack followed.

  As he descended, the familiar cathedral of chaos unfolded around him. Tubes and pipes twisted like vines, pistons hissed, kettles burbled, a flock of chickens roosted near the vents of a roaring kiln and pigs weaved between racks of drying herbs.

  The moment he set foot on the cavern floor, Jack felt like he’d just stepped home.

  Not that it had anything to do with Master Kevin’s hospitality. The old man didn’t even glance his way. Instead, he darted across the room to a cluttered workbench and yanked open drawer after drawer.

  “Where is it?! I know I put it here somewhere…”

  He found what he was looking for in the third drawer, gave a satisfied grunt, and marched over to a nearby bucket. Flipping it over, he sat, brought two fingers to his mouth, and whistled.

  Every pig in the room perked up. They trotted over and formed a line.

  “Here you go,” Kevin muttered, grabbing a piglet by the leg and clipping its hooves with a pair of stubby, brass-edged snips. The line behind it waited patiently, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Jack took a cautious step forward, watching the bizarre scene unfold.

  What do I do?

  He’d expected Kevin to acknowledge him, maybe hand him a quest right away. But the old man didn’t even look up.

  Guess it’s up to me.

  “Master Kevin?” he ventured.

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent sure.”

  Jack bit his lip. The old man wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? Maybe he had to prove himself first and show how far he’d come before Kevin would consider him worthy of a class advancement.

  And in his beginner grays, still swinging a wooden sword, how was this NPC supposed to take him seriously?

  Jack clipped on his bone pendant, strapped on his terracoated armor, fastened both his ocarina and horn to his belt, and then, with exaggerated solemnity, he draped the mantle of the Flying Marmoset over his shoulders and puffed up his chest.

  Kevin didn’t say a word.

  Jack cleared his throat.

  Kevin glanced up, snorted, then returned to trimming hooves.

  That won’t work either, huh?

  Jack sighed. There was one thing he knew worked with Kevin, but he really didn’t want to do it. Especially not when he knew Amari was definitely going to include the sorry act he was about to do in a future video.

  Still, he stepped forward and bowed his head.

  “My master,” he began, voice level and respectful, “I’ve been studying as many crafts as I can, but I still can’t reach the level of heavenly enlightenment you’ve achieved.”

  That got a reaction. Kevin’s ears twitched. He slowly turned, one eyebrow raised.

  “Is that so?”

  Jack nodded and gestured at the cluttered, living chaos around them. “I try to grasp the hidden meaning of being a handyman… but this—you, this glorious palatial cave—it’s beyond me.”

  Kevin stroked his mustache, a grin creeping across his face. “Ah, yes. This stage of enlightenment doesn’t come easy. And the glory of my workshop...” He waved a hand toward the pigs and pipes. “Unmatched. Unmatched indeed.”

  Jack took a breath and centered himself. He thought of his father. Of the treatment. Of why he was here.

  Then he dropped to his knees, pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor, and spoke with as much theatrical drama as he could muster.

  “I beg you, Master. Please guide me once again. Let me gain even a sliver of your wisdom.”

  Kevin let out a booming laugh. It echoed off the walls. The pigs squealed and shuffled, startled.

  “Ah! That’s more like it. I thought you’d show up here puffed up like a boiled toad. But no. You’ve learned some humility, eh? Good for you, lad. Good for you.”

  Jack forced a smile, jaw tight. “How can I not be humbled by your presence, Master?”

  “Stand up, young handyman,” Kevin said ceremoniously.

  Jack rose.

  Kevin circled Jack slowly, muttering under his breath. “Hmmm… you’ve certainly progressed. But there’s still much you’ve yet to learn.”

  Jack straightened. “Really? What, oh master? What should I do next?”

  Kevin folded his arms, eyes glinting behind his duct-taped goggles. He paused. Even the pigs and chickens seemed to lean in to listen.

  “I see three paths before you,” he said at last. “All three can lead to enlightenment, but only one may be walked at a time.”

  A soft chime resonated through the air.

  The path of the Handyman diverges. Choose how your craft will evolve.

  [King of the One Trade]

  Walk the well-trodden path. Dedicate yourself to a single discipline and unlock what others take for granted: a major profession slot.

  [Explorer of All Trades]

  Step off the map. Recipes will no longer bind you—you’ll craft by instinct, by logic, by spark of mind. If it exists in the world, and you understand it, your hands can bring it to life. No limits. No templates. Only what you dare to imagine.

  [Humility in the Trade]

  You’ve limited yourself to wearing only what you make with your own two hands. Lift your burden. Trust the hands of others. Their craftsmanship will strengthen your own.

  Like every other main class in the game, he was given three specializations to choose from. And all of them sounded incredible.

  “So, young handyman. Which one will it be?” Master Kevin asked, folding his arms.

  The choices lingered in Jack’s vision, quiet and waiting.

  Jack swallowed. “Can I have a moment to think?”

  “Of course.” Kevin sat back on his upturned bucket and resumed clipping a piglet’s hooves.

  Jack stepped aside, rubbing his chin as he studied the three options.

  First, there was [King of One Trade].

  If he picked this, he’d finally unlock a major profession—the kind he’d passed on when Tutor Ezekiel first guided him. Majors amplified minors. If he stacked Smithing or Woodworking on top of what he already had—Bushcraft, Pottery, Beekeeping, Bard, Brewing, Tinkering, Masonry, and Butchering—the synergies would just explode!

  Then there was [Explorer of All Trades].

  This one let him cheat the system. He looked down at his hands, remembering the frustration of trying to simplify the studded grass armor. Or the first time he’d dyed wax to see what he was doing. By all logic, those should’ve worked. But the system didn’t let it, not without a matching recipe or skill.

  Now, that could change.

  Finally, there was the simplest: [Humility in the Trade].

  He was level 30 but still wearing gear from ten levels ago. Honestly, he didn’t even know when he’d find time to make himself new pieces unless he dropped everything else.

  This path would let him focus. Let others fill the gaps. If he were allowed to buy gear from others, he would gain better stats, which meant better crafting grades. Better crafting grades meant more money in his pocket.

  He glanced at Kevin, who didn’t seem to care which path he took. The old man kept clipping hooves, barely glancing up.

  “Next,” Kevin said as the piglet trotted off to its sty.

  Wait a second. Pigs. Isn’t that part of the [Ranching] major?

  He gave the cavern another look. The bubbling cauldron in the corner—he’d thought it was for cooking, but now that he focused, the fumes were chemical. The [Chemist] major, maybe? Then there were the pipes, thick, interlocking metal channels branching across the cavern floor. It was far too advanced for the [Tinkering] minor. That was definitely [Smithing].

  How many majors does this guy know?!

  Did that mean [King of One Trade] was the correct choice? Maybe Kevin had taken it himself.

  Or… did he?

  Jack squinted. The setup wasn’t pristine.

  A metal cauldron in the corner was sealed with clay. A workbench made of mismatched wood and metal sat half-tilted against the wall. Even the shack upstairs was a collage of tin, straw, brick, and whatever else Kevin had scrounged together. There was no way that was the result of standardized recipes.

  That screams [Explorer of All Trades]. Something patched together because it worked, not because the system said it should.

  What about [Humility in the Trade]?

  Kevin didn’t look like he relied on other people’s gear. But… hadn’t he just praised humility a few moments ago? Was that a clue? Or misdirection?

  Jack tried thinking further ahead.

  What happens when the next advancement comes?

  If he picked the King trait, would he gain a second major slot?

  If he chose Humility, would more class restrictions fall away? Could he eventually forget minor professions, or maybe even gain damage-dealing skills?

  And Explorer… what would that become? He couldn’t even guess.

  He scratched his head, thoughts churning. He paced across the stone floor, the only sounds in the cave his own footsteps, the snip of pig hooves, and the soft hiss of steam valves.

  “So?” Master Kevin asked. His tone was casual, but Jack caught the curiosity beneath it. “Have you made your decision yet?”

  Jack drew a breath.

  “I’ve made my choice.”