Oliver went through the motions of college, going to classes and working on the assignments assigned, although the first week seemed to be quite laid back with only a syllabus quiz being assigned in each class. By the next few weeks, Oliver noticed something. While college would have been hard for past him, the current version of him, improved in every way, found everything simple. The only challenging aspect of college so far was the various supernatural classes; however, even those weren't that difficult. At least not yet, as his memory was nearly perfect, making the theory classes simple for him.

Oliver stood in the city below Undine, a city bustling with people at all hours of the day, a city of passion and light, Ifrit. The city was similar to Amano City, yet this one felt different, it felt more alive. Amano City had the atmosphere of a regular city above ground, however, this truly felt like a city ruled by the supernatural, a city that never sleeps nor darkens.

Oliver let out a small smile and headed to the Mystic Association branch in the city, which was also their headquarters. The tower stood tall over the city, easily reaching over a hundred floors. It was mostly made of glass, though Oliver could tell the glass was actually made of a metal instead of heated sand. The metal was found in a Stable Fissure and was extremely durable as well as transparent.

Oliver walked through a set of automatic doors that retracted upwards once they sensed him. The lobby was bustling with multiple Associates taking jobs and employees handling everything expertly. Just as Oliver was about to go to one of the lines, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Oliver's body moved instinctively, and not even a moment later, the perpetrator was lying on the floor.

The man's body let out an echoing thud as it hit the sturdy floor, attracting the attention of the lobby. The man's blond hair was sprawled on the floor and his sky-blue eyes stared at Oliver with hatred.

"Y-y-you damn brute!!"

"Hah!? The hell are you on about?"

"You just threw me on the floor, you barbarian!"

"Yeah, and you put your hands on me, so I responded in kind."

"Seriously, what did I expect from a dirty orphan? No manners. Well, I guess it isn't your fault entirely, as you had no one to teach you."

Oliver shook his head, not even bothering to address the man's pathetic attempts to get under his skin. While the fact that he didn't have any parents still hurt him, he had accepted it years ago.

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Just as Oliver was about to walk away, the man quickly yelled, "Hey, I didn't say you could leave! Hey!" The man tried to get up and was about to grab Oliver's hand again, but a sharp glare made him reconsider. He swiftly pulled back his hand and cleared his throat, addressing his purpose: "Rejoice, dirty orphan, as I shall grant you the privilege of working under me."

"Yeah, no, so kindly fuck off."

"Huh? Do you not understand the opportunity this is!?"

"So what? Do you really think your attitude would make anyone want to work with you? Heh, if you do, I wonder where your parents went wrong."

"Grrr. I-I'll ki—"

"Alright, that's enough, boys." A soft yet loud clap echoed throughout the lobby. One of the receptionists stared at the two children fighting and ended their petty squabble before it escalated. While Richard had a few more things to say, he knew that offending a receptionist of the Mystic Association was idiotic. Oliver, on the other hand, didn’t think the same. While he had come to terms with the lack of parental figures, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a sore spot.

As such, when Richard turned his back towards Oliver to get into line, Oliver struck. His hand moved to his waist, grabbing a handle made of air, and he drew a blade made of his own mind. No physical blade or sheath was on his body, but his intent to strike was more than enough.

Richard’s hair stood up on the back of his neck, and involuntarily, he attacked Oliver, an action driven by instinct to survive. However, Oliver, expecting his strike, dodged by taking a single step towards him and drove his fist into his stomach. Richard took a large gasp of air and staggered backward.

"I told you both, enough!"

"I was simply defending myself. He tried to strike me, and I acted in self-defense."

Richard wanted to retort, but he was still gasping for air. Unfortunately, by the time he could say anything, the footage was reviewed and the verdict determined.

"Sir, please follow me."

"W-wait! T-that’s not what happened!"

"Sir! Please don’t make this hard for me."

"B-b-but!"

"Sigh! Arnold, if you would."

Before Oliver or Richard could react, a scrawny man held Richard's unconscious body and handed him towards the receptionist. The man disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. Others in the lobby snickered to themselves, pitying the poor man. One such person noticed Oliver’s astonishment and politely explained,

"Arnold is the Association's Protector, a position every branch has. These Protectors are there to protect the employees of the Mystic Association, and whenever they act, the perpetrator gets a much harsher punishment."

Oliver nodded at the man’s words and got into line, although a smile never left his face. His visit to the association was swift and eventful, as he left with a small folder detailing his next assignment. His assignment was another Fissure, though this time, he wouldn’t be alone. He would be entering into the Fissure with a small group, although that wasn’t his main focus. No, his main focus was the rank of the Fissure—a Rank 2 Fissure. Oliver looked through the folder detailing his assignment, and he noticed his hands shaking. At first, he thought he was nervous about this new assignment. However, a quick glance at a nearby glass made him rethink his thoughts.

A smile was plastered on his face, a smile that showed his rows of pearly white teeth. Oliver slowly raised his hands, touching his face, and he muttered to himself,

"I-I'm excited?"

V