Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

A/N: This story is my first ever original free write. I started it in November of 2022 and finished it in April of 2023.

It is now completely posted over to this website, so enjoy!

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“Hey Greenie! Today’s the day! Excited to get your Job?”

Taken by themselves, those words might have seemed relatively harmless. Friendly, even. If one ignored the jeering tone that they came in, that is. Unfortunately, that tone and the true spirit with which the words had been said were impossible for Marcus to ignore. He tries not to react. Truly, he does. But he can’t help it. There’s a tensing between his shoulderblades, an ever so slight hunching in as the words hit his ears.

Worst of all, they’re followed immediately after by more comments, because of course they are. His tormentors can’t leave him alone, not even for one single second. That would be letting him off too lightly in their eyes.

“Hah! C’mon now, you know he’s scared shitless! I reckon he’s already wet himself in fear!”

“Yeah, monster like him, he’s sure to get an evil Job! Then the Paladins will do what they should have done ages ago and deal with him once and for all!”

“Hm. I like the sound of that. Maybe that’s the Job he’ll get. Monster. Would be fitting, for an abomination like him.”

Monster. Abomination. Aberration. He’s been called all those things and more throughout his life. One would think after all these years, Marcus would be more than capable of keeping himself under control. But it was just so damn hard. One would think the other orphans would have gotten sick and tired of using him as their verbal punching bag by this point as well, but that was apparently too much to ask as well.

He's always been different. He’s always been Other. After all, he’s the only half-orc in the entire orphanage. The only orphan to grow up KNOWING he was a product of rape and savagery. No one had ever let him forget it, not for a single damn moment. Not just the other kids, but the guards too. Some of the workers at the orphanages as well, even.

That poor woman, they would say of his would-be mother. To survive an orc attack was unheard of, which was why half-orcs were so rare in the first place. But to survive an orc attack AND be forced to carry its spawn to term? No wonder the dear abandoned him at the orphanage’s doorstep, they would say. Honestly, she was a saint for not strangling him the moment he was out of her… or so they would say.

He’d heard it all. Grown up with it, really. Learned early on to not let it get to him, to not respond. Because… because there was some truth to it. To the idea that he was a monster. He was a half-orc after all. In terms of looks, he’d gotten lucky. He had a full head of black hair, albeit kept short by Orphan Matron Gertrude’s draconian practices. His ears were rounded like a human’s, rather than blocky like an orc’s. His eyes were also mostly human-like, and not quite as beady as they could have been.

But he hadn’t completely escaped his unknown father’s traits. His skin was distinctly green, for one. For two, he had a pair of small tusks curling out along his upper lip. Muscles came more naturally to him than they ever would a human, and he’d been bigger than all of the other orphans for as long as he could remember. These days, he towered over most grown men, even though he was barely of age himself.

His appearance was just one part of it, though. It was all anyone else needed to judge him, really. However, inwardly, Marcus had spent his entire life in a one-man war with his orcish instincts. They were a bitch and a half to get a handle on. Fortunately, every insult, every comment and every cruelty heaped upon him has trained him not to react. He’s sure they haven’t done it to help him of course, but it’s been of assistance all the same.

He doesn’t react now either, not when they’re all waiting to get their Jobs. Today is too important for him to let go of his carefully held self-control. He’s not going to let them bait him into a reaction here, no s-

SPLAT!

Marcus jerks as a rotten tomato smacks into the back of his head. In an instant he’s swinging around, snarling at the group standing a dozen or so yards away from him. How dare they! How DARE they?! He wants to roar at them. To demand to know how they can’t possibly have anything better to do than harass HIM!

But of course, they aren’t remotely cowed. Not by his size, nor by his visible and audible outrage. In fact, they laugh at him, unafraid and jeering in the face of his fury.

“Just trying to give your skin a bit more natural color, Greenie!”

“What’s wrong? Not like you ever bother taking a bath anyways!”

“That’s right, you’d stink up the place either way!”

Marcus finds himself growing more and more incensed. He’s also beginning to envision what it would be like to walk over there and grab one of their heads between his hands and start squeezing. His vision is starting to turn red, and it has nothing to do with the tomato… that was on the BACK of his head, after all.

Still, they’re unafraid. Probably because they think they know he’ll never do anything. He’s never done anything before regarding their provocations. He’s never gotten into a single fight. The guards are all just waiting for an opportunity to beat him or even kill him outright. Marcus learned very early on not to give them one.

And yet, part of him wonders whether there’s a point in restraining himself anymore. Part of him wonders why he shouldn’t just… go out with a bang. Today of all days is not the time to push or test him, he can’t help but feel.

Before Marcus can act on those thoughts however, a crisp, authoritarian female voice cuts through the air.

“We are leaving, boys and girls. With me. It is time to make our way to the Chapel. Do not dally, do not stray, do not get lost. If you miss your Awakening, that is on you.”

The situation is not automatically defused, even though everyone involved besides him probably thinks it is. As the boys who had been tormenting him quickly hurry after Matron Gertrude, Marcus continues to bristle. For a moment, Marcus still considers giving in to his worst impulses and going on a rampage. This might be his last opportunity, after all.

… But no, even if he managed to kill a couple of them, he would be just as dead by the end of it. The City Guards would slay him on the spot for daring to defend himself, and if not them, the Paladins would take him down. Ultimately… he refused to give them the satisfaction. He refused to be the reason any of them got to say they were right and he WAS a monster after all.

Wiping what he can of the rotten tomato off the back of his head, Marcus grumbles and follows the group of orphans and the Orphan Matron away from the orphanage and down the street. It was time. Time for their Awakening.

You see, when you came of age in the Holy Empire where Marcus lived and had grown up, you received an Awakening from the Church of the Most Holy Light. This Awakening materialized into the form of a Job. Everyone had a Job waiting for them. Jobs were the lifeblood of the Holy Empire after all, the bread and butter if you will. Each and every citizen received an Awakening, and thus came to know their Job like they knew their own soul. Their Jobs then decided what they would do with their lives.

Technically, you could go against your Job. You could get your Job and decide to not follow it, to ignore it even. But that was generally considered a bad idea most of the time. Not only was it a bad idea, it was also considered fairly heretical within the Holy Empire to do so. After all, Jobs were from the Church that watched over all of them. To reject your Job was to reject the Holy Light and there were plenty of zealots out there who would gladly take you to task for such a thing.

Frankly (and VERY privately) Marcus thought those zealots were all a bunch of fucking hypocrites. After all, there were such things as evil Jobs under Church Doctrine. There were ‘bad’ Jobs, even though all Jobs were supposed to come from the Church. Marcus had always thought that was bullshit, to put it bluntly. If the Church were the ones who gave out Jobs, why didn’t they just give out only good Jobs?

Of course, Marcus had never voiced such thoughts to anyone. Not only did he have no friends to confide his true feelings to in the first place, but he also damn well knew better than to question authority when he was what he was. Still, he’d thought about it long and hard, and came up with the Church’s likely counterargument all on his lonesome.

If he DID ever have the temerity to question Church Doctrine on why there were evil Jobs, Marcus had no doubt that there would be some bullshit explanation about how Jobs were the representations of individual souls and the Church just ‘shined a light’ on what was already there, or something like that.

Like he said, hypocrites one and all.

So then, why was he even going along with all of this? Why was he going to an Awakening, if all of the other orphans seem convinced that he was going to get an evil Job and be put down by the Paladins on the spot?

Well for one, the likelihood of that actually happening was low even for someone of Marcus’… heritage. There was no such Job as ‘Monster’ anyways, that was just something those assholes had made up to laugh at him some more. For two, there weren’t that many Jobs, even ‘evil’ or ‘bad’, that would result in him being immediately struck down by the Paladins.

You’d have to get a Job like Necromancer or Warlock or anything else dealing in Dark Magic to be killed on the spot. Hell, even those who received the Thief Job tended to just be forced into indentured servitude to the Church, rather than outright killed. Kept collared and under close watch, they were ‘reformed’ into productive and useful members of society… and their grubby little fingers were kept far, far away from any shiny objects they might try to pilfer for themselves.

Marcus didn’t think he would get the Thief Job anyways. He had never stolen a damn thing in his whole entire life. Instead… instead, he was hoping for something martial. Swordsman, maybe. Not that anyone knew it, but he’d been practicing with wooden sticks from a young age. He had this little hiding place he went where no one would bother him and… well, it wasn’t important now.

If not Swordsman, then maybe Barbarian. Now there was a Job that was borderline, to be sure. Not evil, but certainly considered on the verge of ‘bad’. They weren’t often considered very useful, but they also weren’t automatically forced into service by the Church… usually. In Marcus’ case, he didn’t know what would happen to him regardless of the Job he got. His heritage could tip the scales either way and there would be nothing he could do about it.

Needless to say, Marcus was nervous, especially as he and the rest of the orphans got closer and closer to the Chapel. However, he was also resigned to his fate. He’d considered running away in the night a thousand times over the last year alone, but ultimately decided against it. To not have your Job… it literally made you less of a person.

Everyone in the Holy Empire had a Job. Those who didn’t were… crippled. No matter what they might try to do, no matter what they might attempt to excel at, those with Jobs would always do better than them in whatever it was. That was the power of an Awakening. That was the power of a Job. You became something more, and Marcus the half-orc orphan could admit to himself if no one else… deep down inside, he’d always wanted to be something more.

They arrive at the Chapel a moment later. The Paladins guarding the doors speak with Gertrude for a moment before allowing them entry. Marcus doesn’t dare look up, keeping his head down. He’s had very little interactions with Paladins over the course of his life. Most of the time, its City Guard he’s had to contend with. Still, he can imagine the sort of looks on the Paladins’ faces as he passes them by and it’s not something he wants to see right now.

Instead, he keeps his gaze forward and slightly at a downward angle, making sure he’s not going to run into anyone as Matron Gertrude brings them to a halt. Crowded around, the orphans all squirm and move from foot to foot, each and every one of them as nervous as he is. Even the boys who had been harassing him earlier don’t have a spare thought in their heads for Marcus now. He’s not nearly as important as what will decide the course of the rest of their lives.

“Greetings, young ones, I am Priestess Angelina. Children no longer, you have come to receive your Awakenings, haven’t you?”

At the Chapel’s pulpit stands a beautiful blonde woman in priestly garments. A Holy Priestess if Marcus has ever seen one. That’s a Job of passing frequency in the Holy Empire. Holy Priest, Holy Priestess… the Church cultivates some children year after year to make sure plenty of clergy Jobs crop up. Not something any of them will get though. Any slated to Awaken as Priests were plucked from the orphanage years ago by this point.

Everyone, Marcus included, shuffles about at the beautiful Priestess’ words, prompting Matron Gertrude to clear her throat and speak for them.

“That’s right, Priestess. This lot are all here for their Jobs. Don’t need nothin’ fancy with these ones. Mostly Farmers, I reckon.”

Light, Marcus hoped not. Perhaps it was silly of him, but he didn’t want to be a Farmer. Even if receiving the Farmer Job usually meant you also received financial backing from the Empire and the resources needed to go out to the frontier and carve out a farmstead for yourself… you were also then expected to pay it all back in your harvests for the next decade or more depending on your luck.

Farmer Marcus did NOT ring a bell and finding out that it was even a possibility all those years ago had been what propelled a certain young half-orc to seek more martial pursuits.

The Holy Priestess, to her credit, smiles softly as she looks over them all for a moment.

“Ah, well, there’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone has their place in the Empire. Farmers are just as important as anyone else and if you are meant for a life of toil and soil, then that is your path.”

Some of the other orphans share glances at that, none of them wanting to be Farmers anymore than Marcus does. It still hurts a little bit though, that he has no one to share a glance with. He’s all alone at the back.

Clapping her hands together, Priestess Angelina beams as though her words have actually had some sort of profound effect on those before her.

“Alright then! Let’s begin!”

It quickly becomes apparent that the Priestess has taken the Matron’s words to heart about not needing anything fancy. Though maybe that’s doing her discredit. For all Marcus knows, the Awakening Ceremony really is as quick as she makes it, whether you’re a penniless orphan or a noble child born with a silver spoon in your mouth. It certainly doesn’t seem to NEED to be any longer, given how fast she’s plowing through them.

The Matron also proves to be right… plenty of them are given the Job of Farmer. Some are Miners. A lucky few get Carpenter or Blacksmith, though they had every expectation of that because they were the ones who had managed to get an apprenticeship under a Journeyman in their Trade years before, pushing their Jobs in the right direction. Or so it was believed. Some of those who did get apprenticeships DON’T get their expected Jobs, and there’s certainly some outrage at that.

No one actually acts on their anger however, no matter the Job they get. The Chapel is lined with Paladins all along the walls. Just in case one of them Awakens into something… problematic. Marcus tries not to fall into the mental trap of believing they’re only here for him.

One of the orphans known for being unable to keep his hands to himself get the Thief Job, and Marcus tries not to feel too pleased with that as the young man is marched away by a Paladin. As the Orphanage’s resident ‘acceptable’ target, Marcus was sure he’d lost the most to that one’s grubby hands over the years. But he can’t really be happy about it, because it’ll soon be HIM on the chopping block. Sooner rather than later in fact, as suddenly Priestess Angelina is gazing at him and motioning him forward.

“Come forward, young one.”

Marcus stiffens and grimaces, but after a moment squares his shoulders and strides forward. He tries to ignore the Paladins stationed inside the Chapel but can’t quite miss how they all tense up as he approaches the Holy Priestess. Nor can he ignore how Priestess Angelina herself has to crane her head back to look up at him, her smile becoming a bit more… wooden.

“… Kneel for me, if you please.”

None of the others had to kneel. Marcus can’t help but feel like he’s going to his execution, even as he drops to his knees there on the floor of the Chapel.

“Thank you, young one.”

With that, the Holy Priestess raises her hands and Light begins to emanate from her, as it had done a dozen-dozen times before.

“You come before me today to be Awakened. By the Grace of the Empire, you have come of age. By the Providence of the Church, you will receive your Job, and Light Willing, become a productive member of the Holy Empire. Your life before now was that of a child. Incomplete. Lacking. Unfinished. Today you will be made whole. Today you will be Awakened. Look to Providence, young one! Look to Providence and understand who you are!”

The glow in Priestess Angelina’s hands expands and washes over him, a flash of light that spreads over Marcus’ kneeling form, blinding him momentarily. But at the same time it does exactly what its supposed to. It Awakens him.

In the span of a single moment, Marcus understands inherently what his Job is. He instinctively comprehends the nature of the Job he has been given by the Church of the Most Holy Light. There is no room for error. There is no capacity for misunderstanding. His Job is his Job, an integral part of what he is.

Which is why his blood runs cold as ice as he kneels there, blinking the bright light out of his eyes. Staring down at the hem of the Holy Priestess’ dress, still kneeling before her, Marcus is frozen in horror. He is not a Swordsman as he’d hoped. Nor a Barbarian as he’d wondered. He is not a Thief or a Necromancer or a Warlock. He is not any of that.

He is not an ‘a’ at all. His Job, as it so happens, is unique. There aren’t many like that, but they do exist… and even orphans like Marcus are taught from a fairly early age about the two most important Jobs in the entirety of the Holy Empire. It hadn’t even crossed Marcus’ mind that he might end up with one of them. He wasn’t anyone special after all.

Apparently that didn’t matter. What was… was. Marcus knew his Job now, and in just a moment so would everyone else in the Chapel when Priestess Angelina made the Identification Sign as she’d done with every orphan before him. They would know what he knew to the very depths of his soul now.

They would know that Marcus was the new Dark Lord.

As Priestess Angelina performs the Holy Sign in the air in front of him, Marcus closes his eyes shut in an almost tired sense of resignation. Damn it. Damn them. His bullies were about to get exactly what they wanted. They were about to see him cut down in front of them by the Paladins. Or maybe not…

The Holy Priestess gasps in shock, rearing back as if struck by what she’s seeing. In that moment, Marcus feels the power of his new Job beginning to spread through his body. No Job should ever react this fast, but maybe that was just how the Dark Lord operated. Certainly, he didn’t see how he was possibly supposed to escape this situation without some sort of help from his new Job.

“Priestess Angelina? What is it? Is everything alright?”

Marcus’ muscles tense up as one of the Paladins calls out to the beautiful blonde in front of him. His entire body hunches in on itself in anticipation. He would let her speak. He would let her get the words out. Then, he would strike, taking her as a hostage and using this newfound power to attempt to make his escape.

His chances were still abysmal, but it was the best opportunity he had. He just needed to wait for the right moment…

“More… more than alright Paladin Eric. This young man is the new Destined Hero!”

Now-! Wait, what?!

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