Ascendants

Raiden Alaric

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 reminded me a few days ago, I probably would've woken up today and jogged over to Chronos's place without thinking.

I slung my backpack over one shoulder, the Anchors around my wrists clinking subtly.
Yeah, I'm still not allowed to take them off. "I never said you could take them off," he'd said.

Even with the noise of chattering classmates and lockers slamming shut, the training never really left me. After sparring with the doll, we ran reaction drills, sprinted through parkour courses, and worst of all, balance training. The bastard had me five feet up, hopping pole to pole while hurling tennis balls at my face. Every time I fell, I had to climb back up the same pole I'd slipped off. And yes, the Anchors were on the whole time.

"Man, all summer with the Rock Lee weights, and now back to school with them too?" I grumbled to my friend Wren as we pushed through the crowded hall.

Luckily, we had the same homeroom this year. Last year, we only shared two classes, and homeroom wasn't one of them.

"Chronos insists it helps keep my training integrated into daily life. Feels like I'm in a never-ending workout session."

He actually encouraged me to talk about the training. Probably figured I'd complain to a teacher and get them taken off. Turns out, people wearing Anchors aren't that rare among disciples. I counted about a dozen during orientation. Keyword: one.

Most of them were already Awakened, had a bind on the other wrist.

So yeah, Chronos is a damn sadist. He started calling them "limiters" once he realized they basically were, for someone like me. I vented that frustration to Wren.

Wren smirked, eyeing the Anchors. "You're out here wearing half a gym. You trying to intimidate the lunch line or something?"

"I'm trying to survive Chronos," I said, readjusting my pack before it dug into my shoulder. "Everything else is just a bonus."

"And yeah, the training's gotten even worse with school in the mix. Morning runs before class, straight to Chronos's place after for combat drills and more conditioning. Weekends? Still full summer schedule. Dawn to dusk."

Each morning was the usual run, because I was now conditioned to wake up ridiculously early. After school, I have to run straight to his house for the usual combat and physical training routines. Weekends are basically what I've been doing all summer, the full intensive training from dawn to dusk.

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.

However, I remained connected to the summer's lessons. 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 last 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 paused, sighing at the constant reminders that I need to adapt to this, otherwise, I'll be annoyed by every little thing.

Yes, everything stands out even more now. It's hard to explain. The best way I can put it? Imagine sitting down to write, same pencil, same hand, something you've done a thousand times. But now, your body feels like it's under a weighted blanket. You reach for the pencil, and suddenly it doesn't weigh a few ounces anymore, it feels like a boot. And somehow, you're expected to write with it. Two pages, minimum. Thanks, Ms. Anderson.

As I moved through the hall, I caught bits of conversation, summer trips, family vacations, theme parks. Disneyland. Spain. If I chimed in, they'd probably assume I'd spent my break at some kind of juvenile correctional facility.

I found my next class and claimed a desk near the window. No, I most certainly didn't choose this seat because every anime protagonist sits here. It was most certainly not what I was hoping for if it was open seating. Not at all.

I dropped my bag, adjusted the Anchors weighing on my wrists, and started arranging my books. The desk next to mine scraped back, and a girl slid in beside me. Her light floral perfume cut through the usual classroom staleness.

I glanced over. Amber hair. Easy smile. Pretty, sure, but my brain was still stuck on balancing two separate lives. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but honestly, that applied to half the grade at this point.

"Are you... Raiden? Raiden Alaric?" she asked, her expression shy yet determined.

Her directness caught me off guard. She was close enough that I could see the magenta flecks in her irises.

"Uh, yeah. That's me," I replied, offering a small smile back.

"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 and a girl's 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 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?" 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 glistened 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, her 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 sighed 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 disciples only wear one Anchor for training, and if they're Awakened, they'd have a bind on the other wrist."

I had an expression of both acceptance and irritation. "Yeah... he's extreme. Two Anchors, no bind yet since I haven't Awakened."

"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.

Something interrupted my thoughts 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. She blushed deeply, averted her gaze, and whispered, almost too quietly for me to hear, "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.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

She jumped a bit, clearly not expecting me to pursue it. "N-nothing!" she stammered, her voice a pitch higher than usual.

The teacher walked in, her arrival prompting the usual cacophony of shifting chairs. 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 caught in a sigh of relief.

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 reach with that hero bit, but hey, a guy can dream, right? It felt nice to be thanked, though.

The rest of the school day passed with little fanfare. Classes blurred together in a monotony of lectures, notes, and the occasional glance out the window. Although it was an ordinary day, I couldn't ignore that Tony, Bill, and Mateo were conspicuously absent. The trio, notorious in my memories for our minor 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.

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 expected 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 last class of the day, excitement bubbled within me. This wasn't just any class; it was Advanced World Studies, where we would finally explore the nature of realms in depth. Although I received an introduction to the basics last year, this is my final year before 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. 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. 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 fresh 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 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 dominant races of elves, each with unique characteristics and societal structures.

"First, we have the Wood Elves," she explained. "Deeply attuned to forest environments, they possess keen senses and a profound connection with nature. Their archery skills are superb, and they typically live in harmony with the flora and fauna of their woods."

I remembered reading that people considered Wood Elves guardians of their forests, dedicating their lives to preserving the natural balance and 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."

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 stand out. Compared to Wood Elves, they have far more fair features and the vast majority are an average of 6'4. They stand tall, with some reaching 8 feet. Also have longer ears, pale-colored hair, and alabaster skin. Their beauty is famous, but their attitudes ruin it.

However, one thing is certain: they respect power regardless of race. They see themselves as superior because they are in many areas. So the best thing you could do is to 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, funnily 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 broadly explaining 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. "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. Despite its primitive environment, the realm mirrored its inhabitants, its landscapes changing as frequently as they did. 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 toward 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.

That Pomeranian Dogwoman my dad met was quite insistent on what she was.

One could see an offhand comment about their appearance, however harmless it may seem, 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.

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. Its expansive underground cities characterize this realm and expertly crafted metalwork."

As she spoke, I visualized the stout 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. Dwarves often derive their social status from their skill in craftsmanship and mining precious ores. 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 lasted, 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."

Funny enough, they don't take any offense 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. Most luxuries on Earth don't suit them, such as vehicles, chairs, and tables.

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, the Himalayas, so on and so forth. After talks between China and India, they designated Mount Everest as their primary enclave.

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 no longer creatures of folklore but real beings whose lives were so intertwined with their habitat that they could influence and communicate with the surrounding vegetation. 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 intrinsically connect to the flora, controlling and nurturing the surrounding plants. 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 harmonize with nature, and their society centers on their forest's well-being. 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.

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 exist 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, as well as its inhabitants, are from different worlds that we thus call Realms. We currently connect 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, 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's home and we did the usual training. 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...