"Happy birthday, little kitten. Time to wake up. We're going to church today."
The voice was deep, steady, and oddly warm. It tugged me from sleep like a fishing hook pulling a lazy carp. My eyes blinked open, and the first thing I saw was a pair of bright green eyes staring down at me. They belonged to a man with silver hair that tumbled down to his shoulders and a beard so thick it could probably catch crumbs for later. He also had two fluffy silver cat ears twitching on top of his head.
"You have an hour to get ready," Father said in his calm soldier's tone.
"Is Mother going with us?" I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes.
"Of course. It's your birthday and the first time seeing your status. She wouldn't miss it."
"I see. I'll be ready on time."
"Good." He gave a small nod before rising to his full height. The floor creaked under his boots as he turned and walked out of the room.
"Okay, see you in a while, Father," I mumbled, but he was already gone.
I swung out of bed and dragged myself to the mirror across the room. Staring back at me was a five-year-old girl with long silver hair tumbling down her shoulders, silver eyes that reflected the morning light, and two small silver cat ears perched on her head. My tail—long, silver, and annoyingly expressive—swished behind me.
"Haah… I wonder what sort of powers I'll get," I muttered, grinning at my reflection.
After brushing my hair, washing my face, and putting on my best clothes, I finally looked presentable.
(40 minutes later)
When I walked out of the mansion, the sun was already high enough to sting my eyes. My father stood by the carriage, talking quietly with a woman whose presence commanded more attention than the armored guards lined up at the gate.
Mother.
Her silver hair gleamed like polished steel in the light, and her eyes—also silver, but sharper—narrowed when they found me. She wore a long black dress that hugged her waist and arms like armor disguised as silk.
"Brat, what took you so long?" She snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut bread.
I glanced at my little pocket watch. Only forty minutes had passed. "Father said I had an hour. I'm early. I still have twenty minutes left."
"Don't get cheeky with your mother," she growled. Then, to my surprise, she smiled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. "But fine. You look halfway decent. Let's get on the road."
"Yes, Mother."
Father adjusted his white suit jacket, the silver hilt of his sword glinting at his waist. He didn't say much—he never did—but the small smile tugging at his beard was enough to calm me.
I hadn't left the estate many times, but I knew both my parents were soldiers. My father was a catkin of a rare bloodline, while my mother was… human. Pure human. Which was strange, because the Federation usually frowned upon cross-race marriages. Not that I cared. They were just my parents.
(2 hours later)
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of bumping along in the carriage, we arrived.
"We've arrived," Mother said, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves.
"Why did it take so long?" I grumbled.
"Because today's ceremony is in the capital's main church," Father explained as he opened the carriage door. "You're not the only child receiving their status today. Many noble families will be attending."
Stepping out, I saw at least fourteen other families gathered in front of the church. The building towered above us, four stories of immaculate white stone lined with tall stained-glass windows that glittered in the sunlight. Broad stairs led up to massive double doors carved with angels and runes.
"Stacy, come," Mother called, already halfway up the steps.
"Yes, Mother."
We joined the others, and just as the clock struck, the church bells began to toll. The massive doors swung open, and a line of priests glided out as though their feet never touched the ground. They fanned out, making way for one man in ornate golden robes: the head priest.
"Praise the Angels. Seek the Angels. Worship the Angels. Trust the Angels," he intoned. His voice rolled like thunder over the gathering. "The heavens declare their glory; the skies proclaim their work. Day after day, their light shines; night after night, their wisdom speaks."
Stopping at the top of the stairs, he raised his arms. "Children of the Federation, step forward!"
I hesitated only a moment before joining the other kids. We lined up nervously, small figures compared to the grand church behind us.
"Today you receive your blessings," the priest continued. "Follow me."
We trailed him into the church. The main hall smelled faintly of incense and candle wax, its high ceiling painted with winged figures watching us from above. The polished marble floor was so clean I could see our reflections.
"Children," a younger priest announced, "you will change into the ceremonial robes provided. Then you will return to the entrance, where each of you will place your hands on the sacred plate. It will draw from your mana and reveal your status before all. Do not be afraid."
Robes were passed out. I deliberately took my time and ended up last in line, tugging the robe over my head. It was itchy.
At the entrance, again.
"Are you ready, children?" the priest asked cheerfully.
The first boy was nudged forward. He approached the black plate positioned in front of the church, placed his small hands on it, and gasped as the plate lit up. A glowing screen appeared above it, showing his stats. Everyone outside clapped. The boy puffed up with pride.
"It seems he got a favorable status," the boy in front of me whispered.
"Is that what it shows?" I whispered back.
"Yes. Didn't your parents explain this to you?"
"Nope. I didn't even know we were coming here today," I shrugged.
He looked at me like I'd just confessed to never hearing of bread. "The plate draws on your mana. It reveals your race, bloodline, stats—everything. Then the Angels' blessing chooses your class."
"Ohh, thank you," I said with a little smile.
One by one, the children went, each glowing screen met with murmurs, claps, and a few disappointed sighs. Finally, the priest turned to me.
"You are the last one. May the Angels bless you."
I nodded and stepped forward. My parents were standing at the back of the crowd, my mother smiling brightly, my father's expression tight.
I placed my hands on the plate. Mana surged from my body like water down a drain. The plate glowed bright white, then projected the status screen for all to see.
Name: Stacy Acura
Age: 5
Race: Cat-kin
Bloodline: Nekomata
Gender: Female
Level: 1
Class: Unknown
HP: 60 / 60
MP: 120 / 120
STR: 5
VIT: 30
DEF: 5
INT: 60
END: 15
AGT: 80
Skills: soul link, illusions, and mana fortification.
The crowd gasped. Whispers spread like wildfire. My jaw dropped at the numbers.
'Eighty agility at level one? What is Soul Link?'
I looked to my parents. Mother's face was radiant with pride, while Father's was pale with worry.
Then a booming voice cut through the noise.
"What a powerful weapon she will make for the Federation!"
I whipped my head toward the source. A man with short silver hair and a golden crown stood at the stairs, smiling like he already owned me. His eyes—sharp and familiar—glittered with amusement.
"Your Majesty!" someone gasped. The crowd dropped to their knees, heads bowed.
My stomach twisted. I knew who he was. Everyone did. The King.
"Brother, what are you doing here?" Mother asked, her tone sharp but laced with unease.
Brother?
I blinked, staring at her, then at him.
The king spread his arms wide, still smiling. "Of course I am here to see my lovely niece."
The word hung in the air like a guillotine about to fall.