After the pace of summer training with Chronos, returning to the rhythm of school life was almost uncanny. To be completely honest if my mom hadn’t said anything about going back to school a few days ago I probably would have woken up today and jogged over to Chronos’ place. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the Anchors around my wrists clinking subtly. Yes, I still am not allowed to take them off, “I never said you could take them off,” he said.
Even amidst the bustle of chattering classmates and the slamming of lockers, the training never truly left me. After sparring with the doll we also had reaction time training, parkour courses, and my least favorite balance training. The bastard had me five feet above the ground hopping from pole to pole while throwing tennis balls at me. Each time I fell I had to climb back up on the poll I fell off of. Yes, with the Anchors on.
“Man, all summer with the Rock Lee weights, and now back to school with them too?” I grumbled to my friend Wade as we navigated through the crowded hallways. Luckily, we have the same homeroom this year. Last year we only had two classes together and homeroom wasn’t one of them. “Chronos insists it’ll help keep my training integrated into my daily life. Feels like I’m in a never-ending workout session.”
Chronos said he didn’t mind me telling people about the training, matter of fact he encouraged it. He figured out that I could complain to a teacher and they’d have him take them off but apparently people using Anchors are common to disciples. I found this to be the truth during orientation as I saw roughly twelve students wearing one. Keyword, one. Mostly because they were already Awakened as their other wrist had a bind. So basically Chronos is a damn sadist. He started calling the Anchors, limiters, soon after because they essentially were limiters to someone like me. So I decided to vent my frustrations to my friend Wren.
Wren laughed, giving the Anchors a curious glance. “Looks hardcore, dude. But hey, you’re probably the only guy here who can say he spent his whole summer preparing to take on Goku.”
“When I get there I’ll let you know so you can power scale me,” I joked, shifting the heavy backpack to a more comfortable position. “And yeah, the training schedule has gotten even more absurd with school now in the mix. Mornings, evenings, weekends, Chronos doesn’t really believe in downtime.”
Each morning was the usual run, due to the fact I was now conditioned to wake up ridiculously early. Evenings I am to run to his house to do the usual training with the combat and physical routines. Weekends are basically what I’ve been doing all summer.
As we settled into our first class of the day, the familiar yet distant world of academia enveloped me. Did I sound fancy there? Yeah I finally figured out the proper way to use that word in context. As well as adding a little spice. There was an issue though, I was never fully detached from the lessons of the summer, each movement of my wrist, each step I took was subtly influenced by the constant presence of the Anchors. To the point I started doing wrist curls with my pencil and what seemed to look like me tapping the heel of my foot I was actually just working out my calves.
Chronos you bastard, how dare you turn even the most mundane habits of mine into workouts.
“Just make sure you don’t accidentally take out a wall or something with those things,” Wren whispered with a grin as the teacher began the lesson.
“Yeah, that would make for an interesting parent-teacher conference, ‘Erm yes your child was stretching and knocked over the wall’,” I whispered back, a smirk playing in the corner of my mouth. This won’t happen of course as the Anchors affect me and me alone. I didn’t tell Wren that of course as I wanted to mess with him a bit.
The final bell of the period rang, signaling the end of the class and the shuffle of students eager to move on to the next. I heaved my backpack onto my shoulder, feeling the additional pull of the Anchors around my wrists. I just paused and sighed at the constant reminder that I’m going to have to get use to this or else I’m just going to get annoyed at every little mundane thing I do.
Yes, everything stands out even more. It’s difficult to explain but the best comparison I can give is just imagine you’re sitting down and you are about to pick up a pencil to write down something. You’ve picked up a pencil and used it to write countless times and the motion is effortless. However this time you feel heavy as if a weighted blanket is wrapped around you. Then when you go to pick up the pencil it goes from weighing basically nothing to weighting as much as a boot. Then using said boot to write makes your fingers sore quickly as for some reason your english teacher decided to have you write two pages of notes.
While taking a steady pace through the hall I could hear bits and pieces of chatter about everyone's summer and things they did. Some went to Disneyland, others went to another country, if I joined in they would just look at me wondering if I was misbehaving at home and was sent to a boot camp.
Finding my way to the next classroom, I chose a desk near the window, hoping for a bit of distraction from the outside world during the lecture. No, I most certainly didn’t choose this seat because every anime protagonist sits here. It was most certainly not what I was hoping if it was open seating. Not at all.
As I settled in, arranging my books and trying to get comfortable with the weight of the Anchors, a girl slid into the desk next to mine. Her light, floral perfume contrasted sharply with the sterile school air. I glanced over, noting her easy smile and amber hair falling softly around her shoulders. Pretty, definitely, but I was too caught up in adjusting to my dual life to dwell on it. There was a flicker of familiarity, but that was common enough in my grade.
I was pulling out a notebook when she leaned towards me, her expression shy yet determined. “Um, sorry but, what’s your name?”
Her directness caught me off guard. She was close enough that I could see the magenta flecks in her irises. “Uh, Raiden,” I managed to reply, offering a small smile back. “Raiden Alaric.”
“Irena,” she said, her smile widening. She hesitated, then added, “I don’t know if you remember, but you helped me out last year... with those guys and the book?”
The memory clicked, a moment of a book flying through the air and a girls face hitting the base of a tree. “Oh, right. I remember. How have you been since then? I was kind of in a rush so… I didn’t really get to check in.”
“Good, thanks to you. I… I really wanted to thank you for that day. You kind of saved me.” Her voice was low, infused with a genuine gratitude that seemed to carry a weight of its own.
Scratching my cheek with slight embarrassment I said, “I wouldn’t really say I saved you, I just threw a rock and they chased me throughout most of the neighborhood and cornered me in an alley.” I shifted in my seat. “I didn’t do much.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, “Cornered you?” Her eyes then widened, “Did they hurt you?!”
I winced, “Y-yeah, we kind of got into a fight. But I’m okay! As you can see I still have all my limbs.”
She moved closer, her warm hands enveloping one of mine, holding it gently as if to confirm I was indeed okay. Her touch was soft, yet filled with an intensity that spoke volumes. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you involved." Her eyes started to glisten with tears, and her hands trembled slightly.
I quickly shook my head, trying to ease her worry. “No no no don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything. I am the one who thought it was a great idea to throw a rock at him. You were the victim.”
She meekly looked up at me here cheeks a faint red, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay.”
She nodded and noticed the Anchor on my wrist, “Is this, an Anchor?”
“Y-yes it is,” I said, happy to change the subject. The person who helped me when I was cornered is now my mentor, this is a part of my training.”
“Oh! So that means you’re Awakened,” She signed with relief. “I’m glad.”
“N-not necessarily, I still haven’t Awakened, my mentor is just helping me prepare.”
“Oh? Then that isn’t a bind on your other wrist?”
I lifted my other wrist to show her, “No it’s also an Anchor.”
Her eyes widened, “What? Why do you have two on? Most Ascendants only have one.”
I had an expression of both acceptance and irritation, “Yeah… he’s extreme.”
“He isn’t taking advantage of you, is he? You aren’t in trouble, right? This isn’t his way of punishing you, is it?” Irena continued to barrage me with questions, her expression one of deep concern, as if she felt personally responsible. Watching her, I couldn’t help but think she looked like a worried puppy, her eyes wide and earnest.
These thoughts were interrupted when, without thinking, I reached out and placed a hand on her head.
Oh no…
She stopped mid-sentence and almost seemed to freeze under my touch. My instinctual reaction, honed from years of calming down my younger sister, took over, and I started patting her damn head.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” I started, immediately pulling my hand back, suddenly aware of how inappropriate my gesture might have seemed.
Irena blinked, taken aback for a moment, then a small smile crept across her face. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she turned her gaze away, murmuring so softly it was almost lost to me, “I-it’s okay.”
She seemed to whisper something else under her breath, too faint for me to catch. “What was that?” I asked, leaning in slightly, curious.
She jumped a bit, clearly not expecting me to pursue it. “N-nothing!” she stammered, her voice a pitch higher than usual.
Just then, the teacher walked in, her arrival prompting the usual cacophony of shifting chairs and chatter as the room transitioned from the relaxed pre-class atmosphere to one of academic readiness. I glanced over at Irena; she had her hand pressed against her chest, her breath seemingly caught in a sigh of relief. Her earlier anxiety seemed to have melted into a mix of embarrassment and relief, leaving her with a shy smile that suggested a blend of gratitude and lingering nervousness.
As everyone settled into their seats, I leaned back, processing the brief exchange. I felt like both a damn fool and somewhat of a hero. Okay… I might be reaching with that hero bit, but hey, a guy can dream, right? It did feel nice to be thanked, though.
The rest of the school day passed without much fanfare. Classes blurred together in a monotony of lectures, notes, and the occasional glance out the window. Despite the ordinariness of the day, I couldn’t help but notice the conspicuous absence of Tony, Bill, and Mateo. The trio, notorious in my memories for our little scuffle and the discovery of what I now know is an Origin.
As the hours ticked by, their absence hung in the back of my mind like a silent question mark. It wasn’t like them to miss school, especially since they were pretty well known and were already on set to be enrolled into an Ascendants Academy. Had my altercation with them last year scared them off? Or perhaps they had found a new school that better suited them according to their recent awakenings.
Honestly, I was more disappointed than relieved. I had kind of hoped for a scenario where I'd see them across the hall, we'd lock eyes, and then maybe have a dramatic showdown after school to settle things once and for all. But nooo, they had to be buzzkills and ruin my delusions of grandeur.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
Their absence, while making my day undoubtedly smoother, also stripped away a chance for me to test my new strengths in a real confrontation, under controlled conditions, of course. It felt like being all dressed up with nowhere to go. Here I was, Anchors on my wrists, trained and ready, yet without the anticipated opportunity to prove the changes within me weren't just physical, but also mental and strategic.
Can’t blame me for wanting to see the fruits of my labor. After all, I know I’m more physically capable.
As I made my way to my final class of the day, excitement bubbled within me. This wasn't just any class, it was Advanced World Studies, where we would finally delve deep into the nature of realms. Although I had been introduced to the basics last year, now that I was in my final year before transitioning to Jr. High, things were about to get a lot more detailed. This was especially timely, as reaching the age of 13-14 was when most people tended to Awaken, and understanding the realms could profoundly impact the paths some would take.
Realms had always fascinated me. Defined as distinct domains or planes associated with specific beings, entities, or concepts, each realm was a self-contained world governed by its own rules and populated by entities ranging from deities and spirits to mythical creatures. The school had touched on this last year, but only lightly, enough to whet my appetite and send me down a rabbit hole of late-night YouTube videos and online archives.
The teacher entered the room, her eyes scanning over us with an understanding of the significance of the lessons we were about to embark on. "Welcome back everyone," she began, her voice steady and imbued with a hint of the awe these topics deserved. "I am Mrs. Alden, some of you I recognize from last year while others are new faces.”
Mrs. Alden began the lecture by projecting an intricate, color-coded map of various realms onto the screen, each highlighted with vibrant colors and distinctive symbols. She addressed the class with a tone that mixed reverence with academic rigor.
"Today, we delve into an essential component of our world and beyond, the Realms. These are not mere places but entire dimensions that exist parallel to our own, each governed by its own rules and populated by unique entities."
Mrs. Alden began the lecture by showing a realm of towering trees and mystical ambiance, bringing us into the world of the Elves. The screen displayed Celathandria, a realm enveloped in verdant, endless forests illuminated by what some would call a magical light.
"Celathandria," she began, "is home to a community of elves known for their neutrality and welcoming nature. Unlike their counterparts in Eldoria, Celathandrians do not harbor a superiority complex, making their realm one of the most accessible for diplomatic and cultural exchanges."
As I listened, I thought about the diversity among the elven races, a topic that had always intrigued me given their significant roles in various tales and historical accounts. Elves were not a monolith; their cultures and attitudes varied widely.
Mrs. Alden continued, detailing the four main races of elves, each with unique characteristics and societal structures. "First, we have the Wood Elves," she explained, "They are deeply attuned to forest environments, possessing keen senses and a profound connection with nature. They excel in archery and are often found living in harmony with the flora and fauna of their woods."
I remembered reading that Wood Elves were considered guardians of their forests, their lives dedicated to preserving the natural balance, often intervening only when the ecosystem was threatened.
"Next, there are the High Elves," Mrs. Alden added, her tone slightly shifting to denote a change in the nature of these beings. "Known for their intelligence and mastery of aura techniques, High Elves are often perceived as aloof or arrogant. They reside in secluded towers or magnificent floating cities, where they pursue higher knowledge regarding the power one can wield with aura. However, it's important to note that their reputation for discrimination can make interactions challenging for those not of their kind."
The complexities of dealing with High Elves had always been a point of tension in elven narratives, their isolationist tendencies creating barriers even among their own kind. Not to mention they do stand out. Compared to Wood Elves, they have far more fair features and the vast majority are an average of 6’4. They are tall and some of them can reach 8 feet tall. They also have longer ears, pale colored hair, and alabaster skin. They are well known for their beauty but their attitudes ruin it. However one thing is certain, they respect power regardless of race. They see themselves as superior because they quite literally are in many areas, so the best thing you could do is be better than them.
"Then, we have the Dark Elves, or Drows," she continued, introducing a race often shrouded in mystery and misconception. "Characterized by their pale or dark skin, Drows dwell in subterranean cities or in remote deserts. Unlike their surface-dwelling cousins, Dark Elves have adapted to life underground and desolate environments. Thus, developing unique abilities that often involve mastery over shadows or the use of poisons."
Drows’ flexibility in choosing their paths, whether in mastering aura or other forms of power, made them intriguing figures in the elven hierarchy, often misunderstood but highly adaptable and resourceful. Their skills make them valuable assets for governments around the world, especially in espionage and intelligence networks.
Jason Bourne and James Bond are also very popular with the Dark Elves, funny enough.
"As you can see, the realm of the Elves is as varied as any other, with each group adapting to their environments and developing distinct cultures," Mrs. Alden concluded, her overview providing a broad understanding of how elves fit into the larger tapestry of realms.
As Mrs. Alden transitioned her lecture to Lycania, images of lush, ever-changing landscapes filled the screen, morphing with an almost breath-like rhythm. The beauty of it had a raw, primal edge, unlike anything I’d seen before.
"Lycania," Mrs. Alden introduced, "is inhabited by Therianthropes, beings who can shift their form from humanoid to various animals. These inhabitants might appear as pureblooded wolves, lions, foxes, etc. Some even appear as humans with subtle animal traits, such as ears or a tail."
As she continued detailing the realm, my mind wandered through what I already knew and imagined about the Therianthropes. The realm’s environment, while primitive, was a reflection of its residents, with landscapes that shifted as often as their forms. This constant change hinted at a deep connection between the land and its people, one that was as intuitive as it was spiritual.
Despite its mystical allure, Lycania wasn’t without its challenges. The culture there leaned towards the traditional, often holding tightly to old ways despite recent advancements. It was a realm where tradition clashed with innovation, creating a unique dynamic that often led its more progressive denizens to leave in search of other places where change was more readily embraced.
I recalled reading that the pride of Lycania's people in their lineage was profound, almost sacred. They had even coined terms like 'beastkin' or animal-specific identifiers like 'foxgirl' or 'wolfman', which were initially suggested by them despite some groups finding these terms insensitive. My dad often joked about the complexity of their naming conventions as some became too specific.
That Pomeranian Dogwoman my dad met was quite insistent on what she was.
Making an offhand comment about their appearance, which one might think harmless, could be seen as a grave insult. I remembered an anecdote about a comparison between two wolfmen that nearly led to a physical altercation, simply because one appeared less 'wolf-like' than the other. This sensitivity stemmed from a belief that physical traits were indicative of purity of lineage, a belief that later research debunked, showing it was more about genetic variations common in species capable of transformation.
Interestingly, those who understood this were often the ones who migrated from Lycania to Earth or other realms, adapting their forms to integrate more seamlessly with other societies. Meanwhile, those who clung to tradition either remained isolated in Lycania or stuck to their old ways even abroad.
Mrs. Alden then shifted the class’s attention to a rugged, stony slide labeled "Dwarrowdelf". The image on the screen showed sprawling underground cities glowing with the warm light of forges, and vast halls carved deep within mountains.
"Dwarrowdelf," she began, "is the realm of the Dwarves, known for their robust craftsmanship and architectural prowess. This realm is characterized by its expansive underground cities and expertly crafted metalwork."
As she spoke, I visualized the stout, sturdy figures of Dwarves, bustling through their stone-carved corridors. From what I had learned, Dwarves are not just skilled artisans but also formidable warriors and miners, their society deeply rooted in the riches that lie beneath the earth.
Mrs. Alden continued, "Their culture places a high value on craftsmanship and the mining of precious ores. Social status among Dwarves is often derived from one's skill in these areas. A master blacksmith or a renowned stone mason holds high esteem in their society."
The thought of such a society fascinated me. It was a stark contrast to the fluid and changing nature of Lycania. Here, in Dwarrowdelf, everything was about permanence and legacy. The structures they built and the items they crafted were meant to last, imbuing their work with a sense of timelessness.
"Dwarves may appear human-like but are distinctively different. They are typically shorter, averaging about 4’5” in height, and are considerably more robust, built to endure the physically demanding tasks their lifestyles require."
As Mrs. Alden elaborated on their renowned metalwork and gem-cutting skills, I thought about the various artifacts that might have originated from such skilled hands. Their work wasn't just functional; it was also artistic, each piece telling a story of the earth it came from and the hands that shaped it.
"Their underground cities aren’t just marvels of construction; they are fortresses, designed to withstand sieges and protect their inhabitants," she added. "This architectural prowess speaks volumes about their values, security, durability, and craftsmanship above all."
Funny enough they don’t take any offense to when anything regarding their height comes up. However there are some things that are instead just inconvenient. Similar to how here on Earth we have humans with dwarfism the majority of luxuries on earth aren’t suited for them, such as vehicles, chairs, tables, etc. I believe it was roughly two centuries ago when their immigration had gotten large enough to where they established cities for themselves as well as being allowed to reside in mountain ranges. The most popular locations for Dwarfs were the major mountain ranges around the world. The Andes, The Rockies, Himalayas, so on and so forth. Mount Everest was then set to be their primary enclave after some talks between China and India.
They just wanted the biggest mountain, it’s no secret.
As the lecture moved forward, Mrs. Alden switched the projector to a slide showing a realm that seemed to pulse with life itself, the realm of Sylvaranth, home of the Dryads. The image displayed an immense, sentient forest, trees towering and intertwined, with leaves that shimmered with an ethereal glow.
"Sylvaranth is almost entirely composed of an expansive living forest," Mrs. Alden explained. "It is inhabited by Dryads and other nature spirits who share a symbiotic relationship with their environment. The health of the forest directly impacts the well-being of its inhabitants and vice versa."
I let my mind wander through the concept of a living forest. Dryads, as I understood, were also no longer creatures of folklore but real beings whose lives were so intertwined with their habitat that they could influence and communicate with the vegetation around them. They were embodiments of the forest itself, guardians of their realm who could manipulate plant life and thrive within its bounds.
Mrs. Alden continued, "Dryads are intrinsically connected to the flora, able to control and nurture the plants around them. This connection allows them to protect their realm from intruders and maintain the ecological balance necessary for their survival."
I thought about the logistics of such a life, being so connected to your environment that its health directly affects your own. It was a profound reminder of the interconnectedness of all living things, albeit on a much more intimate scale for the Dryads.
"The culture of the Dryads is deeply ecological," Mrs. Alden elaborated. "They live in harmony with nature, and their society is structured around the well-being of their forest. Leadership among Dryads is often determined by an individual's ability to nurture and sustain the largest and healthiest portions of the forest."
As she detailed their peaceful, nurturing nature, I realized that the strength of the Dryads lay in their unity and their profound bond with the forest. They didn’t build cities or monuments; their legacy was the health of the forest itself. Every tree grown, every plant healed, was a testament to their care and connection to their world.
"Dryads are also known for their healing abilities, using herbal and floral remedies to heal not only each other but any who seek their aid," Mrs. Alden added, showing images of Dryads tending to wounded animals or sick plants. "Their knowledge of botanical medicine is unparalleled, making them excellent healers and caretakers."
As the discussion on Sylvaranth concluded, I felt a sense of awe for the Dryads' way of life. Their existence challenged many of the norms I knew about society and civilization. It wasn’t about dominance or development but about stewardship and preservation. Their realm was a vivid example of how beings could live in absolute harmony with their environment, shaping it and being shaped by it in return.
Mrs. Alden paused, ensuring the students were keeping up, then continued, "Each realm, whether it is Elemental like the Flame of Pyria or Celestial, hosts an environment that is an extreme manifestation of specific elements or ideals. These realms influence not just their own inhabitants but also have ripple effects on our world and others."
She concluded, "Understanding these realms gives us insight into the diversity and complexity of the universe's structure. Each realm functions under its own laws, and the beings that inhabit these realms can often traverse or influence other realms, including our own. We'll explore the mechanics of traveling between these realms in future classes, but for now, grasp the vastness and variety that exists just beyond the veil of our everyday reality."
“Now I’m sure you’re all wondering why I'm pointing to these places, yet you don’t recall ever seeing them on a globe. Well it’s simple, it’s because they are not of this world. Each of these realms I explained as well as its inhabitants are from different worlds that we thus call Realms. As of today we currently are connected to 47 Realms. What I have shown you was only three of those 47, and there are plenty more to explore as we continue this class.”
As I walked out of the school at the end of the day, I couldn't shake off a sense of anticlimax. Sure, peace at school was the ideal scenario, but a part of me had looked forward to the challenge. After school I jogged over to Chronos’ home and we did the usual training. It goes without saying that Chronos still didn’t get the hint that I have other obligations to school and still worked me until I dropped.
At least things are back to normal... kinda...