Chapter 187: Freya, Bees, or Boom?

The five profession options floated before him like pages from a magical book, suspended midair on the system’s interface: Veteran Herbalist, Venomous Herbalist, Alchemist of Ardan, Botanist of Mother Freya, and Beekeeper of Mikhayla.

They ranged from a shadowy chemical sect whose followers treated alchemical compounds as a form of faith, to the fanatical servants of a multiversal hive, an insectoid cult led by a honey-worshipping deity that sent entire swarms to spread its doctrine and convert innocents into winged zealots, loyal drones of the sacred nectar.

There was also, of course, the forgotten path of the Botanist of Mother Freya, a profession cloaked in silence, one that didn’t require allegiance to any Divine Order, but also offered no clear promises. It was an ancient road, moss-covered and layered in the dust of forgotten eras. It didn’t shout. It didn’t glow like the others. But it carried a strange magnetism, like an old book whose secrets only reveal themselves to those with the patience to truly read it. It was a path considered extinct. Something almost no one knew…

But he knew someone. Someone old enough to answer a few questions. Someone who always seemed to linger at the edges of reality, even when he didn’t show himself. When Luke turned to go looking for Samael… he was already there. Standing at the doorway, unmoving, like a shadow cast by thought itself.

“So, you’ve reached your first profession evolution,” Samael said. “This is an important step. It’s the moment the arrow called Luke chooses its direction.”

Luke opened his mouth, ready to speak, but Samael raised a hand.

“Don’t tell me about the divine order professions,” he said calmly. “I don’t want to influence your decision.”

Luke hesitated, then asked, “But… is it a problem? Like, if I pick a profession tied to another order? Aren’t I kind of part of yours already?”

Samael gave a faint smile, touching his chin with thoughtful fingers. “Yes… and no. Do you consider yourself part of our order?”

“No… but kind of, right? I accepted the bloodline when I was dying.”

“You’re in a gray area, Luke. First, because Lord Azazel didn’t assign you any rank. Second, because you came straight to the tutorial, you never even went through the initiation rite. So, technically, you don’t belong to any divine order. But… you are connected to the Order of the Primordial of Darkness.”

Luke furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of where exactly he fit in this cosmic web of orders, bloodlines, and skipped rituals. Nothing about it seemed to follow strict rules.

“So what am I then? Some kind of hellish intern?”

Samael let out a soft laugh.

“You’re… an investment asset.”

Luke blinked. “What?”

“You’re like a stock on the market. Lord Azazel bought all your shares when they were low. Or maybe it’s better to say… he’s an angel investor. You didn’t give anything in return, you just accepted the blood.”

Turning his gaze back to the system interface, Luke asked, “What about this choice now? If I take a profession tied to a divine order… will I have to join it?”

Samael made a circular motion with his wrist. “This first evolution is like a test drive. You can take the profession, use the skills… But the deeper secrets? Those only come with commitment.”

“Which means joining the divine order?” Luke asked.

“For now… you’re free.”

Luke nodded, thoughtful. “So the gods just scatter these professions like coins to lure people in?”

“That’s what they do: invest. They toss coins across the multiverse. Whoever finds one can follow the path. And if they like it… they might want more.”

“So it kind of doesn’t matter?” Luke asked. “I can take the profession, use the skills, and never actually join the divine order?”

Samael nodded, as if discussing something mundane. “In short… yes.”

Luke took a step back mentally, examining everything more carefully. The conversation had left tracks in his mind like footprints in snow. It wasn’t just information. It was a shift. Like something in his perception had tilted slightly, like he was being nudged to think differently. As if the world now shimmered through a new lens.

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It really did work like an investment. The logic behind divine choices finally made sense. The gods tossed coins, skills, items, professions, scattered them into the chaos of the multiverse like seeds in fertile soil, hoping a few would sprout into champions. It was a system of cosmic betting, where every soul was a potential return on investment.