The cover of the book was as hard as Melmarc remembered as he ran a finger over it. It was one of Ark’s old story books. It was a picture book not a comic book as Ark had always pointed out when they were younger.

It was a story of Dark Mist. As a Delver, he had been the most famous story book character when they were children—when he had still been alive. In all variations of the story books and comic books, he had only one origin. It was his true origin.

His real life and his life in the story books followed the same pattern until he got into a Gifted school. That was when his story went from a biography to fiction. He slowly grew into becoming a superhero and the most sold superhero comic book of all time.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention from the picture book with its hardcover and he turned away from it.

Ark walked into the room and closed the door behind him quietly.

“Has Uncle Dorthna gone?” Melmarc asked, resting against the edge of the table.

The table was lower now. He was taller now.

Ark shook his head. “Nope. Right now, he’s lying on the couch and Baitley’s showing.”

Melmarc assumed that Baitley was some kind of reality show that was important to their Uncle but not to them. However, his mind focused on the odd part of the response.

“Is everything good?” he asked. “Why’s he on the couch?”

“If I knew, I’d be richer than I currently am,” Ark replied.

Uncle Dorthna was always gone by midnight anytime one of their parents was around. And right now it was well over thirty minutes past midnight. They had eaten dinner already. Ark had ordered pizza from some place he always ordered pizza from.

Usually, dinner was Uncle Dorthna’s goodbye. A last supper for his visit for that period.

“You think he wants to talk with dad?” Melmarc asked.

Ark’s face pinched in thought before he shook his head. “I don’t think so. He usually gets all that out of the way before he leaves.”

Ark went and sat down on his bed, eyes fixed on Melmarc with a grin.

“You got taller,” he said with an impish smile.

“I have at least two bad words in my head that I could say to you right now,” Melmarc grumbled.

Ark smirked. “Is cunt one of them?”

Melmarc’s grimaced at hearing his brother and Ark laughed quietly.

“How tall are you now?” Ark asked. “Six four? Six five?”

Melmarc had no idea. “I haven’t checked.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Ark tapped a thoughtful finger to his lips. “How tall is Eroms?”

“Six nine, six ten,” Melmarc answered easily.

Ark folded his arms over his chest and rested his back against the headrest of his bed. “And dad’s like seven feet. We really are going to end up like dad, aren’t we?”

Melmarc smiled. “And Ninra didn’t even hit six three.”

Ark chuckled at his words. “We’ll have to bend over every time we annoy her and she wants to hit us. I could’ve sworn she would end up being mom’s height.”

“Five eleven is six feet if you’re being generous about it,” Melmarc pointed out as he moved to sit down. “And mom’s what? Six one?”

“Six feet,” Ark corrected. “Round figure... I think.” He cocked his head to the side, studying Melmarc. “I’m six six now, so you should probably be around six five or six four.”

Melmarc sighed as he listened to his brother. Sometimes when he was at home it was easy to forget that they were actually a family of tall people. Ninra was the only one below six feet.

“Must be tough being Delano,” Ark said. “He’s got to stand around you and Eroms all day and feel like some kind of a dwarf.”

“He’s not that short.”

“I said feel, Mel.” Ark crossed his legs. “Can you remind me how you were among the tallest students in school and people were still trying to bully you? In fact, how the hell were people bullying Eroms? Dude’s large enough to pick them up by their head with one hand.”

“Eroms is fat.” Melmarc shrugged. “He’s always been a bit self-conscious about it. Call him fat and watch him just kinda shrink into himself.”

“But doesn’t the short one call him fat all the time?”

Melmarc cocked a brow at Ark. “You just used Delano’s name a few seconds ago, where did ‘the short one’ come from?”

“He’s short, isn’t he?”

Melmarc groaned. “He’s like five seven.”

“So… short.” Ark nodded as if he’d just solved a complex equation. “Anyway, enough about your short friend, what really happened? I know Uncle Dorthna knows, but he’s not saying anything. And dad came back with you, which just raises all my worried older brother flags.”

“You do not have a worried older brother flag.” Melmarc flopped back on his bed and bounced once. It felt so good to lie down on a bed after so long.

“So you did have a tough time.”

Melmarc tilted his head forward to look at Ark. “What gave you that idea?”

“You moaned when you laid down.”

Melmarc paused. “Oh.”

“So what was it?” Ark pressed. “Did you get kidnapped by some drug family the police were chasing?”

The question brought the memory of half a brain to Melmarc’s mind. He hadn’t gotten to see where that entire thing went. Did the police get the group they were looking for or not?

The guy who’d shot him—Melmarc couldn’t remember his name—had apparently been handled by Veebee. So there was that. Melmarc’s best guess was that Veebee had eaten him.

He actually did say he ate him, though.

“No kidnapping,” Melmarc answered Ark.

“But did you do anything dangerous?”

“On earth? Nope.”

Melmarc left the words there and closed his eyes. There was a stretch of peaceful silence before a pillow hit him in the face. Melmarc’s eyes shot open and he groaned as he sat back up.

Ark’s expression didn’t look the slightest bit shaken up.

“You do not,” Ark said emphatically, “say something like that and get to sleep.”

“Something like what?” Melmarc asked, knowing exactly what he’d done.

“You did not do anything dangerous on earth.” Ark picked up the second pillow on his bed in a threatening manner. “You went into a portal, didn’t you? And dad had to go save your ass.”

Melmarc wasn’t complaining, but Ark was always the one doing the interesting things in the house. It was fun to be the one with an interesting story this time around. And his story was definitely the interesting one.

“If you must know, you should be gentle with me,” Melmarc pointed out. “I will have you know that I’ve been shot at.”

“Bullshit!” Ark exclaimed, but it seemed like a reflex response because his eyes narrowed on Melmarc as he added, “Did you really get shot?”

“Well, I was shot at. And the bullet did hit me…”

“But no injuries… right?” Ark asked, worried.

“None.” Melmarc smiled. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve got a skill that doesn’t allow me get damaged. It’s a bit of a cheat skill if you ask me.”

“And if I remember correctly,” Ark said. “You still feel the pain.”

Melmarc remembered what it felt like when one of the needles from Caldath’s skill had struck him in the neck when he’d been saving Clinton during the fight.

That had been far more painful than the pain from a gunshot.

Ark’s expression softened. “It was painful, wasn’t it?”

Melmarc exhaled softly. “It was.”

But he had felt worse.

“Which one do you think hurts more?” Ark asked. “A gunshot or being stabbed?”

Melmarc looked at him, confused. “How would I know? I’ve never been stabbed before.”

It was Ark’s turn to cock a brow.

Considering how easily everyone in the family could raise a single brow, Melmarc always needed a moment to remember that not everybody in the world could raise just one brow.

“I said I was shot at,” Melmarc explained. “Never said I was stabbed.”

“Then what happened to your hand?”

Melmarc raised his hand and looked at the injury. It hadn’t changed in a while now. The obvious hole had sealed up but there was still a healing injury there. He could barely feel the pain if he wasn’t looking at it.

And I fought a super villain with it, he thought.

His mind went back to the fight, and he couldn’t remember feeling the pain. He also remembered how little the pain had felt from being hit by the person, too.

I think I’m building up a pain tolerance.

“So, what is that?” Ark asked.

Melmarc turned his hand from one side to the other. When you thought of the word ‘stab’ a knife naturally came to mind. So, a stab wound was supposed to look like something that was inflicted by a knife.

Melmarc’s eyes squinted at the injury. Definitely doesn’t look like a knife wound.

“Why do you think it’s a stab wound?” he asked.

“Do you know that you and Ninra are more alike than you think?” Ark pointed out suddenly.

Melmarc had no idea where that had come from. “Why do you say so?”

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“You both like asking questions during a conversation. Nin asks questions like a therapist, and you ask questions as if you’re trying to be sure that I’m not bluffing.”

Melmarc didn’t know that. “Doesn’t change the question, though.”

“You have a hole on the other side as well,” Ark answered with a sigh. “So, which one’s more painful?”

“I can’t genuinely say.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because this one,” Melmarc held up his hand, “Was done by a weapon with effects and the gunshot was just a gunshot. Also, an actual injury has lingering pain while the pain I get when I use my skill is just instantaneous.”

“So… no idea?”

Melmarc sighed, knowing what was coming next. “No idea.”

Ark shook his head in mock disappointment. “All that big brain and good grades and you can’t figure something that simple out. I swear mom and dad wasted money on your tuition fee.”

“It’s instant pain and done versus lingering pain. How exactly am I supposed to relate them properly?”

Ark shrugged. “You’re the one that likes trying to top the class, not me.”

Melmarc’s jaw ticked. “You’re an ass.”

Ark smirked. “Language.”

“You called me cunt,” Melmarc pointed out.

Ark raised a finger in correction. “I used the word cunt. Didn’t call you a cunt. And I can be forgiven for that because I’m the delinquent that skips classes, beats people up, and excels at sports. You’re the brains, I’m the brawns.”

“I’m the brains, and you’re the ass.”

“Says the guy with zero female friends,” Ark laughed. “Which is funny because I’m not even talking about girlfriends.”

Melmarc opened his mouth to protest but closed it without saying a word.

Pelumi had come to mind and so had the girl he’d met at the registration, the daughter of Dragon-Knight. He frowned suddenly, unable to remember her name.

So you definitely can’t call her a friend.

And he didn’t think he could call Pelumi a friend since they hadn’t known each other long enough, and he didn’t even have her number.

Wait, I do have her number.

He brightened up for a moment before dimming back down. Her number was in his actual phone and that was still at the precinct. If they’d put it in the cloned phone they’d given him, that wouldn’t matter because he didn’t have that one either.

“See,” Ark laughed. “No bitches.”

Melmarc sighed. “Last time I checked, you aren’t too big to be punished, Ark.”

“Punished by who?”

“Mom and dad. I just have to tell them that you’re calling girls bitches again.”

“It’s an expression, Mel. Besides, I’ll just deny it.”

Melmarc said nothing as a small smile stretched his lips. Something about the conversation just felt cathartic. Just a few days ago he was in a portal, now here he was talking about how he doesn’t have any female friends.

“Chioma broke up with me,” Ark blurted out.

Melmarc raised his head up from his bed so that he could look at his brother. Ark didn’t look very bothered by the news he’d just given.

“Chioma is Freda, right?” he asked. “Your girlfriend.”

Ark nodded.

“Why?” Melmarc asked. “What did you do?”

“She found out that I was Gifted.”

“I don’t get it,” Melmarc said, confused. “Why is that grounds for a breakup? Everybody wants to date a Gifted.”

“She didn’t find out from me.” Ark picked up his phone and started typing.

Melmarc’s brows furrowed. “Then who did she find out from?”

After a short moment of typing, Ark turned his phone for Melmarc to see. On the screen was a video from the internet.

Melmarc watched as Ark suplexed a bull. The video had over a million views.

“You went viral?” Melmarc blurted out.

Ark nodded. “I was mini famous.”

Unsure of what to say, Melmarc ran a hand down his face. Ark was definitely still having interesting things happen in his life. It turned out that if he wasn’t the one making the interesting things happen, the world was very interested in making it happen for him.

“Sorry about that,” he said in the end. “I know how much you liked her.”

Ark didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, there was a touch of sadness in his voice. “Yeah… She really didn’t judge me for the fights and the skipping classes and all that.”

Melmarc nodded. Chioma that was also Freda had been one of the nicest girlfriends his brother had dated in a while.

The conversation seemed to be going down a gloomy path, and Ark was not a big fan of gloomy, so Melmarc wasn’t surprised when he hurried to change the subject.

“Did you get any new skill?” he asked.

Melmarc nodded. “Something strong. It was a big help in the portal.”

“That’s something to think about,” Ark marveled. “And just so you know, you are going to tell me about your portal experience one day. At least when you’re ready.”

“I will.”

“But until then,” Ark leaned forward like a child who was about to see the coolest thing, “let’s see this strong skill of yours.”

Melmarc sat up and raised his hand for Ark to see. He moved it slowly until a ring of mana appeared around his wrist.

[You have used skill Rings of Saturn]

[Remaining uses 3/4]

“I’ve got this.”

Ark moved closer, sat at the edge of his bed so that his feet were on the ground. He leaned in as if he was tall enough to cross the distance between the two beds without having to get up. He was not.

After a moment, he got up and joined Melmarc on his side of the bed.

Melmarc scooted away from him immediately. “Careful. It packs a heavy punch.”

“Uhuh.” Ark didn’t sound the least bit worried. “Why’s your hand still moving? What’s that about?”

“I have to move the part of my body I want it to appear on for it to appear,” Melmarc explained.

“You’re still moving your hand, though.”

“I have to keep it moving for the skill to remain there.”

Ark watched it for a moment longer before saying, “I guess you took it in the end.”

Melmarc pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew what Ark was talking about. After doing his best not to take the skill [Rings of Saturn] because of what had happened to their mom, he’d ended up in a position where he’d had no choice but to take it.

If I had taken it in the beginning, he wondered, would I still have ended up with the [Faker] class?

“Looks powerful.” Ark’s gaze wandered slightly. He stopped looking at it and started looking around it. His eyelids narrowed. He squinted. “Looks odd, too. Any idea what type of mana it is?”

That surprised Melmarc. He hadn’t expected the question.

“It’s raw mana,” he answered.

Ark rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “So that’s how raw mana reacts. Interesting.”

He reached a hand out towards it, curious, and Melmarc stopped moving his hand. The skill terminated and the ring disappeared.

Ark cocked a brow at that. “What was that for?”

“I already told you that it’s a powerful skill. I’m not going to be responsible for you losing a hand.”

Ark dropped his hand. “So how does it work? Does it blow things up?”

“Not really,” Melmarc answered. “From what I’ve learnt, and I’m not entirely sure, but I think it breaks through skills. Someone told me that it should. I can also throw it so that it cuts or throw it so that it does blunt force damage. Also, my skills don’t work well when it’s active.”

“So it also affects your skill.”

Melmarc nodded. “They are also quite heavy.”

“So you can just turn it on and off?” Ark asked. “Just like that?”

“I can, but I wasn’t using it that way.” Melmarc pursed his lips in thought. “If I keep them active, they are a bit heavy, it makes my punches heavier and definitely more powerful.”

“And when you’re done throwing hands?”

“I throw them.”

Ark tilted his head to the side in thought. “I guess that makes sense. How’s the mana drain?”

“Weird,” Melmarc answered easily. “It doesn’t drain my mana but it kinda makes my mana weaker… if that makes sense.”

“I’ll pretend that it does.” Ark moved on Melmarc’s bed until he was resting his back against the headrest. “How do you think the skill will match up against another Gifted?”

Melmarc had no idea.

It would definitely be deadly to use on a C-rank Gifted. He was sure of that. The [Damned] were definitely stronger than the average C-rank Gifted and he’d used it to crush their head every now and again.

Maybe a B-rank can handle it?

He shook his head even as the thought came. Clinton was a B-rank Gifted and he hadn’t felt as physically strong as any of the [Damned].

The B-rank [Damned], he told himself, remembering that the [Damned] they’d faced in the castle had been B-rank and those were the ones that had done a number on Clinton.

“Maybe a B-rank Gifted could handle it if they are strength based,” he said, unsure. “But not a C-rank. I think it will be lethal on a C-rank.”

Ark nodded like a teacher who’d guided his student to learn something with nothing but questions. “So, what you’re saying is that you shouldn’t use the skill on a C-rank Gifted or a B-rank that doesn’t have a strength based class?”

“Exactly.”

“And how do you think it will fare against an A-rank?”

“No idea.” Melmarc’s gaze narrowed on his brother.

Ark fought back a suspicious smile. “What?”

“I’m not going to hit you and see what happens,” Melmarc said emphatically.

“That’s not where my mind was going, but… Now that you’ve brought it up, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I am a strength based A-rank Gifted, after all.”

“No.”

Ark smiled. “We’ll talk about it later. If Uncle D is still around by tomorrow morning, maybe we could make something out of it.”

“No.”

“Anyway,” Ark continued, ignoring Melmarc’s refusal. “I was asking because of school.”

School.

It was a single word but not a simple word. In the normal order of things, school was supposed to be the important next step in Melmarc’s life after becoming a Gifted, not going into a portal.

It was meant to be the mentorship program, then school, then whatever next. The portal part of the progression wasn’t supposed to happen until you were preparing for the Delver certification.

“You have thought about where you want to go to school, right?” Ark asked.

Melmarc, in fact, had not.

But with his dreams of becoming a powerful Delver there was only really one choice when it came to which Gifted school he wanted to attend.

Fallen High.

It was really the only school anyone aspiring to become a Delver would ever want to go to. However, there were reasons why everyone didn’t go there. For starters, you could only get a spot to take the admission exams once you acquired one of three criteria.

The first criterion was money, from what Melmarc had heard, and a lot of it. The second criterion was a recommendation from a renowned Delver either by reputation or by class rank and reputation. Which meant that the lower the rank, the higher the reputation. And the third criterion was based on a scholarship program offered by the school.

What the school used to judge who was worthy of the scholarship offer remained unknown. They had a site where you could apply for the scholarship program and Melmarc had considered how he would apply a few times in the past before he’d become Gifted.

Now, however, he didn’t think he needed the scholarship program. It was funny when he thought about it, though. Achieving the third criterion basically solved all the criteria because a scholarship from the school was basically the school scouting you. It implied you would have a recommendation from the school itself because they were the ones that came for you. It would also solve the monetary aspect because they would be the ones in charge of your finances.

Melmarc opened his mouth to give the obvious answer when Ark interrupted him.

“Apart from Fallen High,” Ark said.

“Why?” Melmarc protested.

“Because you have to consider what will happen if you don’t get in,” Ark answered easily. “Everyone knows that they have certain qualifications to meet.”

“I’ve got two out of them.”

Ark raised three fingers and ticked one off. “Money.” He shook the remaining two. “What else? Because I know for a fact that they did not offer you a scholarship.”

“I’ve got a recommendation from a Delver of repute.”

“And what Delver is that?”

“A Delver named Vlad,” Melmarc said. “We met him on that school trip I took just after gaining my class. He was an important Delver in Romania before moving here.”

Ark turned thoughtful. “I did not know that.”

“So,” Melmarc shrugged. “Fallen High.”

Ark shook his head. “The criteria are to take the exams. You have to consider what happens if you fail them. So you have to think of another school.”

Melmarc put his mind to it.

Fallen High was certainly not the only school in the country, it was simply the best. Not only did most of its alumni go on to become at least decent Delvers, the school was located in the heart of the country’s Gifted city. It was the best school to go to if you wanted to build connections that could help your career as a Delver.

However, there were schools that were close competitors. There were schools that rivaled it in how many successful Delvers graduated from them. Schools that held the top five spots in all competitions hosted country wide.

They were popular because there was always an annual competition held every year. All the schools for Gifted created a team as well as Gifted that were not necessarily affiliated to a Gifted school but met the age and rank requirement. The latter would form groups and join the tournament.

It always motivated everyone since there was always a reward attached. If a school won the competition, then they used the reward as they pleased. If some upstart group of kids won it, then that group used the reward as they pleased with some level of guidance.

“The Black Bears aren’t so bad,” Ark said.

Melmarc didn’t like the Black Bears because the school was known to be quite obsessed with intelligence-based classes. Rumors had it that it was hard to actually grow if you didn’t have a class based on mana use.

“Too intelligence driven,” Melmarc said.

“I don’t see the problem,” Ark shrugged. “You’ve got the [Faker] class. I’m sure you can spin it intelligence wise.”

Melmarc shook his head. “I don’t want to go that way. Besides, there’s already general discrimination when it comes to my class. I don’t think a school like that would be for me.”

“Good point. What about—”

“Hold up,” Melmarc interrupted. “You don’t want to go to Fallen High?”

“Says who?” Ark asked.

“You are looking for alternatives.”

“It’s just in case,” Ark said. “Anything can happen. You know that better than I do.”

Melmarc stared at him. “So you still have plans of getting into Fallen High?”

“Of course. But if I don’t make it, then I’m going for Edulard.”

Edulard was basically the last of the top five.

“Why Edulard?”

Ark shrugged. “Met a girl during my mentorship.”

“And she’s going to Edulard,” Melmarc sighed. “You’re going to a school because of a girl.”

“Nope. I’m going to Fallen High. If I can’t get into Fallen High, I might as well go to a school that has something I want and is in the top five.”

Melmarc shook his head. “We’ll talk more about that later. For now, I’ve got a question.”

“What’s that?”

“Any new skill?”

Ark smirked. “I got one awesome one.”

Melmarc’s brows furrowed. “What’s that?”

“Behold.” Ark held out his hand, palm up. “The power of the [Demon King].”

His hand burst into flames. The flame was as black as the night was dark.

Melmarc almost laughed. Whatever he did, Ark was always a step ahead. Always achieving something more volatile.

He is the adventurous one, after all.

“So, I get rings,” Melmarc chuckled. “And you get the flames of the dark lord. I see you’re really going all in on this [Demon King] class.”

The flame winked out of existence after a moment, leaving Ark’s smiling face. Little tongues of the dark flame licked the air before dying out.

“That’s not all,” Ark grinned. “Remember when I asked you what hurt more, a gunshot or a stab wound?”

Melmarc nodded suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you got a stab wound.”

Ark’s grin widened.

“I’ve got a stab wound!” he declared smugly, pulling up his shirt. “Check it.”

Melmarc’s jaw dropped when he saw the mark.

“That,” he said with a shaky voice, “is not a stab wound.”

Ark looked down at it, then back up at Melmarc. “Of course it is.”

Melmarc couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

“Ark,” he said with all seriousness in his voice. “That. Is. Not. A. Stab. Wound.”

Ark shrugged. “Well, I call it a stab wound.”

Melmarc had a small stab wound in his hand and he was still worried by the size of it.

He ran a tired hand down his face, still staring at the injury on his brother’s side. It was official. Something was definitely wrong with how Ark’s mind worked if he was so excited by this.

"I think it's time for you to start seeing a therapist again, Ark."

Ark just stared at him, still grinning.