It was morning again, and Thors had woken in his bed, sweating profusely as though he had been lost in an unpronounceable dream.
At first, he had thought his entire experience in the dungeon was nothing more than a dream, but soon after checking his stats on the system, he could tell it wasn’t.
[User: Thors Godfrey]
[Race: Superhuman]
[Status: Dormant]
[Charisma: 2]
[Lineage Core: 5/100]
[Abilities: The One That Stands With Lightning. Golden Lightning]
None of it had been a dream after all. While preparing himself to head out for classes, he did not fail to check the system for more information on the ability.
[Golden Lightning: Description—Every lightning has its shape and pride, but the pride of this power cannot be easily controlled.]
He blinked a few times as he read the notification, his brows furrowing at how unclear it was.
Probably, for now, he would just have to wait until the perfect moment to test out his ability in a training field.
At this point, they had all dressed and left their room together. Thors, Seoul, and the third boy walked to the cafeteria side by side.
It was a bit strange seeing the third boy following right beside them when he usually seemed irritated by their presence.
But Thors did not bother about that. After all, it was the boy’s choice.
The moment they entered the cafeteria, though, he separated from them without saying a word.
So Thors and Seoul had their breakfast together and afterward headed to their first class, according to the tracking watches the academy had handed to them.
’It’s just like a mini handbook.’
Thors thought as he stared at the screen of his watch, scrolling through some of its contents, which mainly contained most of the academy’s knowledge. Aside from that, there was also the timetable and a comprehensive mapping system that could guide them through the academy’s enormous grounds.
Seoul sighed as he sat at Thors’ side.
"After the general class, we’re going separate ways."
He rubbed the side of his face and frowned.
"You really should have picked the combat class."
Thors rolled his eyes as Seoul continued emphasizing how different their class schedules were. However, his attention was divided as he stared at the system.
Strangely, his charisma stat seemed to have risen by two points, now raising it to four.
Despite being such a small difference, Thors could feel it slightly within his being.
He was growing stronger.
Even passively.
The realization caused a strange sensation to crawl through his mind. It was almost imperceptible, like a river slowly carving its way through stone, but it was there. Something inside him was changing.
But he still could not help but think about his new ability.
Where did that leave him?
Was he still the weak, incapable defect everyone had labeled him as?
Or had he gained some extra strength to make up for the loss of his former potential?
As the questions continued whittling away at his mind, Harold, their home teacher, finally stepped in.
His usual murky, overbearing demeanor was already present as he made resounding steps toward the center of the podium. Each footstep seemed to carry a weight of its own, and the casual murmurs that had occupied the classroom quickly died away.
Silence washed over the entire class at his presence.
He glanced at the entire class for only a moment before finally speaking.
"Superhuman ability. This has been the argument, the thought, and the bedrock of our entire generation. Whether it is used for good and saving humanity... or killing another superhuman."
His voice grew grim as he ended his sentence, the change in his tone passing a clear message across the entire class.
Harold paced around as he continued.
"Even if the alien race, the Dorians, are our main priority when it comes to knowing how to kill, defend against, and maneuver around them, one must still know how to handle, defend against, and kill another superhuman."
"We are the same race. That doesn’t mean we should forget the centuries of betrayal, war, and deception we put ourselves through, even before the alien race arrived."
The class went silent.
Eyes turned toward one another with a strange sort of weariness, as though Harold’s words had stirred something buried beneath the surface. Some students shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while others simply stared ahead, their expressions becoming more serious.
Then, one by one, their gazes returned to Harold.
"The type of superhuman you are mostly lies in the colour of one’s eyes—"
Thors blinked a few times, raising his hand up to his gaze as though wanting to use it as a mirror.
Then he turned to catch Seoul staring directly at him.
The man’s yellow eyes were fixed on Thors, as though studying a familiar pattern.
Thors paused for a few seconds.
Then he turned back toward their teacher.
"—Red eyes are mostly Superhumans with powers that do not have to do with their physique, but instead manipulate energy, elements, and anything as complex as their imagination allows. We call them Aethers."
"Yellow eyes, which deal with Superhumans able to manipulate their physical traits to become more powerful and immensely stronger, we call them Ascendants."
"And the final light-blue eyes are for individuals who possess very unique Superhuman Abilities. A very rare type that might even combine the abilities of an Aether and an Ascendant."
"We call them the Primordials."
Thors’ gaze narrowed slightly.
Primordials.
The name alone carried a different weight.
"The first and most powerful Superhuman was a Primordial, and was single-handedly able to turn a large percentage of the war around."
Sergeant Harold raised his one good hand into view.
Then, he punched the air.
Only slightly.
There was no explosion.
No visible burst of energy.
Yet what accompanied that small movement caused the entire class to shake in their seats.
A wave of heat crashed onto them.
For the briefest of moments, the classroom became an oven.
Thors felt the heat crawl across his skin, his clothes stirring from the pressure that followed the punch. It was as though something enormous had passed through the room without ever revealing its true form.
Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the heat washed away.
Silence followed.
"As I just displayed, I am a Third Order Aether."
Sergeant Harold’s red eyes glistened as he lowered his hand.
"Any questions?"
A hand rose from the crowd.
And as though infuriated by the mere sight of the raised hand, Harold growled before gesturing for the person to speak.
The female student rose from her seat.
She was astonishingly beautiful.
Her spotless, pale face seemed almost untouched by the harshness of the world, while her slender body structure naturally caught the full attention of the boys in the classroom.
Including Thors.
He stared for a moment longer than he should have.
Then he quickly slapped himself mentally for ogling.
The girl pulled in a long breath before speaking.
"My question is not necessarily associated with today’s lecture, but I would like to know what special programs the academy year will provide us."
Thors furrowed his brows in confusion at what she meant by the question.
He turned to see Harold standing silently, seemingly thinking about his answer.
’What does she mean by special programs? I haven’t heard about that one before.’
Thankfully, Seoul had spotted his distraught expression and stepped in just in time.
"Every year, the academy stages a series of contests or tests. Expeditions, tournaments, explorations, crafting, and so on. But each year has a different set of programs they must major in. Mainly, three are picked at most."
Thors nodded, slowly grasping the concept.
"So she’s basically asking what kind of education we’re getting."
Seoul nodded.
"In a way."
Thors leaned back slightly, his gaze returning to the front of the classroom.
He knew the academy had the ability to determine the strength of its cadets.
Now, he saw how.
They could make cadets lenient, giving them little to no field training and mostly sending them from one military base to another, turning them into nothing more than expendable foot soldiers along the way.
But they could also make them a special force to be reckoned with.
They could throw them into dangerous expeditions.
Force them into tournaments.
Send them into unexplored territories.
Expose them to real battles and teach them the knowledge necessary to survive when their abilities alone were not enough.
They could mold them into weapons.
Or they could simply make them soldiers.
All of that depended on the reply Harold would give now to his students.
And judging by the silence that had settled over the classroom, Thors wasn’t the only one waiting to hear it.