TASTE-TEST: F-tier Assasin - Chapter 1

This is a story I've been working on for a while, after being inspired by the worlds of the stories 'Saijaku Teima' and 'Super Supportive'. Beyond that superficial influence, it doesn't really have anything to do with either story ^-^'

Anyway, I might write more on this, but I think I'd finish all of Book 1 before releasing it on RR. If I do start writing on it seriously, Patreon will of course get advanced chapters.

I also made four different covers, but I need your help to determine which one matches the vibe of the story the most.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this opening chapter, so please drop it below!

- Dosei (土星) -

UPDATE: This first chapter has been edited based on feedback I've received, and I am also making it available to free members like my other Taste-Test chapters.

Chapter 2 is now available for paying members:
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Chapter 1

Warm sunlight filled Ashlan’s vision, as he stood in the long queue of youths leading to the altar that would determine their future. He tried to play it cool, but his heart throbbed painfully in his chest with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. The salty sea-breeze cooled the sweat on the back of his neck slightly.

Despite its name, the city of Eventide was always clad in a veil of golden light. From dusk till dawn, the sun blessed the seaports, castles, and plazas with its glow. The buildings that huddled in-between those places fought to feel some of its radiance as well, but it was really only the rich who could afford sunlit balconies.

This Freya’s Day was particularly radiant to Ashlan, but maybe that was just because it was important to him. Every Freya’s Day of every week, since as far back as he could recall, the big plaza known as Hrothgar’s Place was filled with spectators from all walks of life.

Those who could afford it had shaded first-floor balconies nestled into one of the plaza’s six surrounding walls. From there they could see everything through magically-powered viewing portals or enhanced binoculars, depending on how much they were willing to splurge on watching the weekly display of youths getting their Professions.

People with lesser wealth, but still more than enough to get by, had their favourite tables at one of the many cafes that overlooked the altar-like podium in front of Hrothgar’s old statue. But most of the observers crowded the big stone tiles of the plaza, battling with shoulders and elbows to get the best view. Those who lost such petty fights could still listen to the announcements that rang out across the vast space, thanks to the Announcer who relayed the words of the City Official conducting the ceremony.

While standing in line, waiting for the ceremony to commence, Ashlan looked at people in the crowd nearby.

That guy is probably a Gardener, he guessed, seeing a man with a deep uneven tan that was darker on the tops of his arms. The tips of his fingers were stained brown and his nails were almost black at the tips from accumulated dirt.

D-Tier, would be my guess.

“If a new Anointer or Official is assigned, make sure to remember their name and face,” the Gardner told his son, who was probably only a few years Ashlan’s senior.

A Smith, by the looks of him. Maybe D-Tier as well, but it’s hard to say. Could even be E.

The front of the son’s face was darkened more than the rest of his skin, which was paler than his father’s. That kind of pigmentation on just the face probably meant he often worked close to fire and smoke, having to stare directly at it in order to gauge when metal was heated to the proper temperature. His hands were also calloused in a way that suggested he used tools with long handles like those of a hammer.

He looked away from the pair and ran his eyes along the surrounding people, trying to distract himself from the ceremony that would start any moment now.

Last week, Ashlan had been in amongst the thick of the crowds, managing to catch a few peeks at the many youths. There had been quite an uproar when one boy was proclaimed as Unassignable, or ‘Forsaken’ as most people called them. It had put a bit of a damper on Ashlan’s hopes, but Unassignable were rare, as the System generally had a place for anyone within its great scheme.

In Eventide, the age that a child became an adult was sixteen, and thus the Ritual of Assignment was to be carried out on the first Freya’s Day following a child’s sixteenth Nascence Day. Some other provinces had different ages of maturity, and the System seemed flexible enough to accommodate the various cultures.

Ashlan felt bad for the people in Witchfell far to the north, as their Assignments didn’t happen until their twenty-fifth Nascence Day. It seemed a waste to not place people into their destined paths sooner, but, as far as he knew, it had yet to cause any issues.

Five days ago, on Sol’s Day, Ashlan had turned sixteen, and now he was one of those hopeful youths standing in line to the altar, where the rest of his future would be decided. Even having watched countless Assignment ceremonies in the past, he hadn’t been prepared for just how tense he’d feel in the moment.

His parents had impressed upon him the need to receive a financially-powerful Profession with a good Rank, as they obviously expected him to help them out with their debts now that he was an adult.

As if I can just ask the System to hand me one of the lucrative Professions!

Besides, he had already moved out a year ago, so he wasn’t sure why their debts were his burden as well. But, all families who weren’t well off wanted their offspring to lift them out of their financial hardships and into the figurative, and often quite literal, light. At least in Eventide, where sunlit balconies cost a premium.

Speaking of…

Ashlan looked to his right, where one of the balconies of the rich jutted out from the first floor of the plaza wall. A man and a woman sat on comfy-looking chairs, each holding binoculars on sticks as though they were attending a theatre play. Between them was a table with refreshments, and a servant stood behind them, unmoving like a shadow.

They were far enough away that he couldn’t pick out minor details, but he could read their bodies, as well as the general movements of their lips. They were talking about what they expected to see, as well as mentioning someone called ‘David’.

Their son, perhaps?

From their opulent clothes and the Maid behind them, they were obviously part of the city’s upper echelon, or so it would seem to anyone watching them from below. But Ashlan had the benefit of knowing how, just last week, that balcony had been vacant. The few weeks before that as well. Through rumour and idle chatter, he had picked up the news that its former owner had died and, having no heirs, his belongings were auctioned off.

Attention-seekers… he scoffed internally.

Their son was facing his Assignment, so they had splurged on: renting a balcony to view the ceremony; clothes that, as he looked closer, were clearly the wrong measurements for them; binoculars that they were struggling to hold properly; and a Maid to add legitimacy to their display of ‘wealth’. Add to it their uneven tans and it was clear they were no more than middle-class citizens.

Enough of a show to fool the masses, but not enough to fool anyone paying proper attention.

There were no Bodyguards in sight and they were paying far too much attention to how the nearby people gazed up at them in longing.

What a waste of money… he thought. But, then again, people did stupid things in the hopes that it secured their offspring a brighter future.

There were lots of theories about what produced strong Assignments. Many were sure that training and lifestyle played a large part in it, and thus all the rich had their children extensively tutored. Others claimed that lineage played the biggest role, which resulted in many loveless marriages between High-Ranked Professions. Ashlan’s parents were banking on the theory of the poor and desperate: randomness. This often manifested itself as religious zealotry, since the belief was that if you were just pious enough, the System would grant you absolution from destitution.

Ever since he was a little boy, Ashlan had watched as many of these Assignment Rituals in Eventide as he could, even before he truly understood the implications of what he was watching. He knew many of the promising youths’ backgrounds and had seen enough to know that the conclusion on the matter was quite clear.

There was no way to game the System.

It was painfully fair and pragmatic.

The System was an all-encompassing web that saw the world in its totality and knew what little puzzle pieces it needed. It was basically unheard of for someone to be assigned a Profession that did not fit their local province, and most people thought it was omnipotent. Ashlan knew that wasn’t the case, as he had profited off its blind spots in the past.

Sure, it was possible that one’s personality and hobbies played a role in the selection, but Ashlan had not seen any clear pattern from all these years of watching. What he had seen, however, was that the System never made a mistake. When someone was assigned, they would perfectly fit their new role. It was honestly quite a frightening thing when he thought about it.

My future, in the hands of an uncaring System…

Let me at least receive one of the fun Professions!

If the people to whom bloodline mattered most were correct, then Ashlan was heading for the abyss of mundanity. His father was a D-tier Tanner and his mother was a D-tier Seamster, so applying the lineage theory meant he’d become a D-tier Smith or something akin to it.

Eight weeks ago, the prominent daughter of an A-tier Banker and an S-tier Swordsman had walked up the steps to the altar and had her destiny laid bare for the thousands crowded in Hrothgar’s Place.

Ashlan still couldn’t help but grin at the memory.

E-tier Painter. Truly the System must have a sense of humour. Why make someone a Painter, if they are not even particularly good at it?

But hey, the girl actually looked happy.

It wasn’t uncommon at all to see such a sight, though a few families had gotten lucky. The Goldentide Dynasty was nothing but B-tiers and up. The Bramblethorn and Songbird families were almost exclusively A-tiers all around. But the opposite also existed. On both his mother’s and father’s sides of the family, Ashlan’s lineage was almost nothing but D and E-tiers. There was one B-tier four generations back on his father’s side, whom his grandmother still raved about, but that was it.

His parents wanted a lucrative Profession for him, since they expected the pattern to repeat, and a D-tier in some of the Assignments, mostly the rare ones, would make enough through System Contracts to afford one of those sunlit balconies.

Bodyguard, Anointer, Official, Banker, Wizard, Magical Artificer, etc., these were all either rare or one-in-a-million, and it wasn’t lost on Ashlan that the majority either served the rich or the province, thanks to their unique and valuable Skill sets.

It would be awesome to get S-tier, he dreamed.

S-tiers were guaranteed to make a fortune, no matter their Profession. With the strength of their Skills, they transcended way past the upper limits of a human. A single S-tier Swordsman could defeat ten A-tiers or a hundred B-tiers of the same Profession. But, their power was also why they were rarely assigned. The System wanted to give everyone their spot in the world, so too many S-tiers would tip the board and make everyone else obsolete.

On the other end of the spectrum, F-tiers had a similar problem, but in reverse, hence why that Rank was as rare as the highest. After all, it would take ten F-tiers to do the work of one E-tier. They were borderline useless, and many argued that the only thing that separated them from the Unassignable was the System Access. Ashlan figured that even F-tiers had to have some worth in the world, however tiny and niche it was. After all, sometimes you needed a small piece to finish your puzzle.

Still, my life is probably over if I get assigned F-tier anything. A Wizard at F-tier probably wouldn’t even be able to wield magic.

The line he was in finally started to move as the first person walked up the stone steps of the altar, where the Announcer, the A-tier Wizard on security duty, and the City Official awaited with the Assignment Idol. He’d that it depicted a winged and horned girl in a simple robe, knelt on the ground with her hands reaching up palms-first. Its right eye was closed, but in the left socket was a perfectly-round blue crystal. He had never seen it up close, since it was impossible to get a spot close enough to the altar. It was still too far from where he waited to tell if what he’d heard was true.

Ashlan’s guess had long been that the stone Idol itself was just for aesthetic purposes and that the crystal was what held the System Fragment. Soon he’d finally know for sure.

There were twenty-one people in front of him in the line and it felt both excruciatingly-long and horrifyingly-short at the same time. He wanted it to be over quickly, but also hated the idea of rushing headlong into a potential future he might hate.

Ashlan had always felt different from those around him. Most people accepted the System’s Assignments with a sense of finality, but not him. They did not see the cold-hearted efficiency in having such a deterministic society, but just hoped that they would benefit from its lottery-like allocations. He felt sure that humans were more than their Assignments, but it was a sentiment that most rejected.

To him, the proof of this idea lay with the Unassignable, who, despite having no System nor Assignment, still managed to eke out a living. Because they lacked the System-granted Skills that would’ve altered their bodies and minds to their Professions, everyone just assumed they were incapable and useless.

When he was twelve, he had found all the Unassignable in his neighbourhood and put them to work on various tasks. He had made a decent amount of Silver by organising them into groups that handled menial projects for the Low-Ranked citizens of Eventide, who were at the back of the appointment lists for things like gardening, cleaning, construction, and so forth. He obviously charged less for these things, but still, money was money.

The Unassignable he had put to work had accepted it with almost a spring in their step, and he’d run his little scheme for just three weeks shy of a season, before the City Sentinels had put a stop to it. No arrests were made, and Ashlan had doled out the money evenly before the Sentinels could claim any of it for the city.

The strange thing was that it seemed the System hadn’t even been the one to put the Sentinels onto his scheme. Instead, some of those, who were actually assigned to the work he had undercut them on, had complained to the City Officials. And that was that.

“Lucy Andrewson, Archivist!”

Ashlan was pulled from his thoughts by the announcement of the first Profession that was assigned and the resultant Oooh and Aaah, claps and cheers, and shouts and whistles.

Then followed the Rank:

“C-tier!”

The noise died down a little, but Archivist was considered a pretty safe Profession no matter the Rank, albeit boring and with a tendency for causing dust allergies and papercuts. It was on the uncommon end of the Profession spectrum and he was already put on edge.

One thing he had noticed as a recurring theme, was that the System seemed to only allocate a couple-or-so rare and uncommon Professions each week, with some weeks being entirely generic Assignments. If there was another uncommon or rare Profession announced before him, his odds of getting one of the dreary occupations was all but guaranteed.

Unfortunately, Ashlan was near the back of the line, with only four people behind him. The place allotment in the line was done fairly, and he’d been stuck near the back. Though he couldn’t definitively prove that being at the front was better than the middle or back, it was hard to think rationally when he was standing in it and his future was on the line.

I guess, in the end, I can relate to those wishful thinkers after all…

There was about a metre on either side of the queue with free space and it always amazed him that the crowds kept this tunnel’s integrity, in order for the aspirants like him to approach the altar in some manner of peace.

Still, why does it have to be in public like this?

Ashlan knew the answer of course: people liked the self-assurance it brought to see others receive worse Professions or Ranks than them, and it was good for the citizens to know the faces of those who were assigned High Ranks or important Professions.

It was fortunate that the sun in Eventide was only sweltering in Harvest season, since otherwise he would be standing in a puddle of sweat by now. He was still sweating despite the cooling wind, but, then again, announcing one’s future to the entire city was a daunting and potentially reputation-destroying prospect, if the wrong Rank or Profession was read aloud.

Maybe I’ll go live with the Unassignable if I get Gravetender or Executioner, although even they probably wouldn’t want me.

People respected the System and its Assignments, but some Professions were hated as a matter of course. Ashlan still recalled the S-tier Gravetender he had seen get booed out of the plaza six years ago. It didn’t matter that the woman was now the backbone of the entire funerary industry of Eventide, people just despised those who worked with the dead or delivered death to other humans. So long as said humans were not criminals or the soldiers of an enemy province.

“Lila Dark, Cook!”

A few claps came in response from the crowd.

“B-tier!”

The applause picked up a bit, but B-tier Cooks weren’t that uncommon truth be told, and most people knew it. Still, it was a good Assignment, Ashlan thought.

Someone poked him on the shoulder and he turned around. It was a muscular boy with curly dark-brown hair, brown eyes, a dimpled smile, and the tan of someone who lived in an apartment with a sunlit balcony. He wore a red brocade vest and dark-grey soft-wool pants. His leather shoes alone cost more than all of Ashlan’s clothes combined.

“Hey, what do you think you’ll get?”

“Wizard, obviously,” Ashlan replied, taking three steps forward as the line moved.

The boy looked him up-and-down, clearly not impressed by the frayed and sleeveless linen shirt, black hand-me-down cheap-leather belt that held up his overlarge linen shorts, nor his handmade wooden sandals with rope straps. Undoubtedly Ashlan’s unkempt-and-frizzy dark-brown hair and dirt-stained dark-tan skin didn’t help either, as it was clear he had the tan of someone who was outside in the sun all day, instead of lounging on a balcony and rotating every ten minutes for an even coverage.

“You look more like you’ll be a Smith.”

“Don’t curse me,” Ashlan told him seriously, their eyes meeting. Although everything about him screamed ‘bottom of the wealth pyramid’, his frost-white irises always gave people pause.

The boy cleared his throat, then said, “Guess what I’ll be!”

Ashlan considered his appearance: rich, muscular, and a tan that spoke of luxury. The muscles were surprisingly-even in bulk across his body, which probably meant he had B-tier Trainer, if not higher. Basically, he had trained for a physical Profession that didn’t require being outdoors.

“Bodyguard,” he answered.

“How did you guess!? But you’re right! I’ll be a Bodyguard, just like my father!”

Ashlan managed to suppress a groan, and turned away so the rich kid couldn’t see his expression. To his credit, he didn’t seem to care and was already talking to the girl behind him instead.

He won’t get Bodyguard. Someone two weeks ago got that and it’s only handed out once every six weeks on average.

“Halfdan Shipwright, Smith!”

“C-tier!”

A few people laughed and others clapped half-heartedly. It wasn’t unusual to have families change their surnames to Professions they desired for their children, but it always just led to embarrassing mismatches.

Thank you for taking Smith for me, he tried to telepathically relay to the guy. Hopefully that means it’s off the table.

The next two came and went without any astounding Assignments nor Tiers, moving Ashlan to spot number sixteen. The girl in front of Ashlan seemed to think that now was the perfect time to bother him like the rich guy had just a few minutes prior.

“You don’t look like a Wizard,” she told him, her brown eyes studying him.

He scanned her appearance with a quick glance. She had her straw-coloured hair pinned up with a red heirloom jewellery piece; a bit of blush on her cheeks but no lipstick; a faint yet uneven tan that was darker on the tops of her arms than under; and a beautiful blue dress that’d been refitted to match her perfectly, though there were a few wood chips and splinters clinging to the bottom of it.

She was clearly from the kind of family that thought you ought to dress for the role you wanted, and Ashlan could tell by the refit done on her dress that her mother was a Seamster like his own, but at least a Rank above.

“And you don’t look like a Courtesan,” he replied.

Her face reddened in embarrassed anger.

“You actually want to be a Carpenter, don’t you?” he said, before she could smack him.

She blinked and Ashlan couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction. The callouses on her hands showed that she habitually used tools and had been doing so for at least two years, plus the wood chips on her dress made it clear that, even after adorning her fancy outfit for the day, she hadn’t been able to stay away from her hobby.

Despite the work involved, Courtesan was a popular Profession as it paid extremely well. But it was uncommon, and she didn’t look like the type of girl who would enjoy the lifestyle associated with it.

“Can you read minds?” she whispered.

Ashlan shrugged. “Possibly.”

“David Thorn, Wizard!”

The crowd erupted in cheers and whoops, the whole plaza seeming to rumble with their excitement and stomping feet. He couldn’t see David’s appearance clearly from where he stood, but he looked like someone Ashlan could’ve easily been friends with when he was younger. The two people on the balcony pretending to be wealthy, obviously the boy’s parents, had gotten out of their chairs and were celebrating like crazy.

Then the Rank was announced:

“A-Tier!”

Even though Ashlan had been in amongst the crowds many times before during similar big announcements, it suddenly seemed so much louder now that he was one of the hopefuls standing in line.

If they’d been allowed, he was sure that the crowd would have carried the boy out of the plaza, but, then again, Wizards were rare and ridiculously-powerful. This was obvious from the way the Wizard on security duty glared at the boy.

Well, shit. There goes my hopes and dreams. Thanks a lot, David Thorn… you lucky bastard.

It took several minutes for the excitement to die down, during which time the ceremony was put on halt.

As he’d predicted, the next thirteen youths were all assigned mostly-generic Professions, with C, D, and E-tiers to boot. The biggest stand-out was number eleven in line, a girl who was assigned C-tier Performer. That Profession didn’t come up super often, though its money-potential didn’t match its rarity, and from the rumours about the work, it was often thankless and heavily scrutinised by viewers.

The girl in the blue dress went up before him, taking each step slowly, as she had to lift the hem of the dress to avoid tripping. A few cat-calls and wolf-whistles could be heard from the crowd, as people recognised the Profession she had dressed for, though the Announcer bade them settle down.

She cast Ashlan a quick glance before walking over to the City Official who stood in front of the Assignment Idol. From here, it was obvious that what he’d been told about the Idol was correct, except no one had mentioned the tail it had. He briefly wondered what exactly it was meant to depict, when he noticed some of the people towards the front of the crowd were exchanging bets.

In the past, he would always get in on such bets when he felt certain he could guess correctly, but he’d only ever won an Assignment bet once before. That being said, the earnings from winning such a bet had been enough for him to afford moving out of his parents’ ground-floor apartment.

When the girl stepped away from the statue, a nervous expression on her face, the City Official relayed the result to the Announcer, but it was impossible for Ashlan to read the fat man’s lips with the way he was standing.

“Sigrid Blossom, Carpenter!”

“D-tier!”

The girl cried tears of either relief or joy, although the crowd was laughing at the mismatch of her name and Profession, since Courtesans were often associated with flower surnames. The biggest and most expensive brothel in Eventide was even called The Bouquet as a nod to this.

She looked at Ashlan again and mouthed the words: “Mind Reader!”

He just waved back, nervousness overshadowing the fact that he’d guessed correctly.

Maybe that’s a good sign? he managed to think, before the Official gestured for him to walk forward.

“Good luck, Wizard!” said the rich boy behind him sarcastically.

Ashlan didn’t even acknowledge the jab and just started walking forward as though a puppet master’s strings were controlling him. As he reached the steps to the stone altar that stood before Hrothgar’s statue, it felt like a mountain he had to climb. Each step sounded so loud in his ears as he ascended the podium, and he realised that the crowds were all focused on him, cheers or boos waiting on the tips of their lips. Somehow, a nonplussed response seemed worse than those two scenarios.

Even if he got a hated Profession, he would be fine, since they were all rare and paid well. It would also be an added bonus to have his money-fixated parents pretend he didn’t exist, if that was the kind of Profession awaiting him.

The Wizard scrutinised Ashlan with a gaze that seemed as though it could pierce his very soul, and he could’ve sworn that he felt how her eyes travelled across his skin. Apparently satisfied, she gave a nod to the City Official.

The fat man urged him forward and said, “Place your hands atop the palms of the Idol and gaze into its open eye. You will know when the Ritual of Assignment has completed and this will be your cue to lift your hands and take a step back. Do you understand?”

His breath smelled like sausages and garlic, with a tinge of something acrid like tooth decay.

Ashlan nodded, clenching his jaw in anticipation. “I got it.”

“Then go on and learn your destiny.”

He took a step towards the kneeling Idol with its hands raised up towards him. Its open left eye-socket held a blue crystal that glowed faintly.

After taking a deep breath and holding it in, he placed his hands down on its awaiting palms.

The first thing he felt was a warmth radiating through the stone and into his hands. It was a pleasant and welcoming feeling.

Then the crystal sprouted an iris that wriggled around frantically, before settling and staring right back at him. While the crystal itself was blue, the iris was black with a white horizontal pupil like a goat’s.

It felt as though his entire being was suddenly yanked out through his arm and into the Idol.

[I see you, Ashlan Grey]

[I know what fate is destined for you]

The soft-spoken motherly voice filled his head and spoke with a familiarity that was at once comforting and unnerving. While it held its grip on his entire being, he got the sense that the world around him was frozen in place.

[Congratulations on your new Assignment]

[I look forward to working with you]

The hold on his soul was released and he stumbled back from the Idol, tripping over his own feet and falling on his ass. The Wizard behind the Idol smirked and many in the crowd laughed.

Ashlan quickly got to his feet, while the Official relayed the result to the Announcer in a whisper. Once again, he was unable to read his lips.

“Ashlan Grey, Assassin!”

The crowd went wild in a mix of responses, some cheering and some booing. The sound assailed him where he stood, feeling like a powerful wind that would lift him off his feet and pull him from the stage. Instead of looking out at them, he fixated on the Idol.

A smile formed on his lips as he waited for the Tier to be announced. As far as he knew, he was set for life, with riches and exciting Contracts in his future.

Assassin was one of the extremely-rare Professions, with the last one that he could recall being announced over three years ago. Since it dealt in killing humans, many people put it in the same category as Executioner. However, it was also widely understood that Assassins helped prevent coups, wars, and occasionally fought off monsters outside the city’s walls. As such, people were torn about what to think of the Profession. It probably also helped that it had a cool reputation shrouded in mystery and secrecy, with one such mystery being Assassins’ uncanny ability to appear and disappear without trace.

[Establishing System Assignment]

The voice filled his head and he instinctively looked to the eye on the Idol, but it was now just a blue crystal, its iris totally gone.

Then the Rank was announced:

“F-tier!”

There was a beat of silence, before the crowd erupted into mocking laughter.

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The general idea for this story is that the MC has to rely on his smarts and clever utility of the few low-tier skills he gets to complete his Assassination Contracts.

I also really like the idea of going against a rigid world where everything is based on Tier Rank and individual intelligence is not accounted for. Plus, I think it's satisfying to follow an MC who is ignored because of his circumstances, but who ends up being quite competent. There'd also be a 'hidden identity' vibe to this story, as no one would believe that the MC is capable of some of the things he manages to pull off.

Aaaanyway, toss me a comment with your thoughts on this and which cover you think works best.

Chapter 2 is now available for paying members:
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