In the dimly lit hallways of Crestwood High School, a taunting voice rang out. "Don't embarrass yourself again, Adrian!" The voice held a note of arrogance to it, a large wet raspberry sounding out after the provocation was made.

Continuing down the corridor, Adrian's face contorted with irritation. It seemed like daily harassment was his unwelcome companion, gnawing at his patience. Yet this time he couldn't restrain himself from responding.

Halting abruptly, Adrian pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyeglasses were in dire need of replacement, ten years of loyal service had rendered them in tatters, held together by tape, their frames crooked. Even the gleam that newly applied for eyeglasses had when one would visit the opticians were now gone, now only a blurred visor of mild muck remained in its place.

With a swift turn, he raised a defiant middle finger in response to the golden haired boy. 'You know what fuck this guy!' Adrian thought. After years and years of going to the same schools all the while being born within the same year the golden haired boy known as Damien and him had yet to see eye to eye on one occasion.

"Do you even know how many fingers I'm holding up you clarted cunt?" Adrian jeered and cursed without remorse. Anger flaring up in his heart, thinking that maybe this would be enough to show he had grown tired of his 'bullshit'.

Fists clenched, Damien charged toward Adrian. "Ay! The overgrown rat has finally learnt to speak! Maybe we should send him to the white coats for testing, maybe then he'll be of some use to our society, as a lab rat!" Damien's goons said, cheering him on for his service in 'cleaning up the trash'.

Concentrating his energy, Damien conjured a shimmering orange orb of fire, poised to strike. As the distance between them closed, he unleashed the radiant and destructive projectile, hurtling it toward Adrian.

Caught off guard, Adrian had no time to escape the approaching flaming orb. All he could do was grit his teeth and brace for impact. The orb of flames slammed into him, propelling his body into the corridor wall and burning his school clothes around his chest, incinerating the first layer of skin.

"What's happening?" One of the nearby students said, clasping onto their long blonde hair in distress. "Are they seriously fighting on the last day?" Another exclaimed. Though with more decorum than the first.

"Dude, hes burning!" One of the goons the offender had under his wing whined, thinking he had maybe gone a little too far.

A curious crowd rapidly gathered, intrigued by the spectacle unfolding before them. A female student rushed over to inspect the scene, concerned for the victims well-being.

As the girl approached, Adrian's slightly dishevelled white hair came into view. When the girl saw Adrian's hair and, with a hint of recognition, quickly retreated, feigning indifference. Her friends joined in the act, suppressing giggles.

"I can't believe you tried to help him," one of her friends chortled.

"I didn't see who it was okay buzz off," the girl replied, her cheeks flushed with unease and a slight hint of annoyance.

In Crestwood High all the student body was like this. Since the war 6 years ago humanity had descended into a pit of harsh indifference. But, luckily or maybe unluckily, Adrian had dealt with it even before the war, so he was used to it. 

After checking his wound after the flames had gone out he could see that his skin actually hadn't been burnt as thoroughly as he had thought. His offender was apparently holding back with that attack. Gritting his teeth, Adrian retrieved his fallen glasses. One of the sides had been dislodged.

"Not again," he muttered under his breath.

It was the final day of school, a day Adrian had hoped would pass without incident. He was weary of the constant harassment, but he refused to be a doormat like some of his classmates. He had witnessed what happened to those who endured the torment in silence, and he was adamant that if he were to not fight back, it would be the equivalent to giving up on life. And unlike most he had a very potent force driving him through the days of childish torment.

Unlike the rest of the students, Adrian had no interest in lingering at school any longer. He glimpsed students exchanging farewells, some laughing, others shedding tears at the thought of parting ways. Adrian felt detached from it all in its entirety, unwilling to be part of the sentimental farewell for numerous reasons.

You see the truth is. He hated, schools. It was the closest thing he had to a living personal experience of hell on earth. A living hell. Even his home life before his parents passing wasn't like this. Here they would dog on you simply because you were weak. At home he was known to be a disappointment, but there was love and compassion in his home. However twisted it seemed it was still love, Adrian's only source of the word came from memories of his family.

Arriving home, he wasted no time. His small single-bedroom apartment, funded by his family backing held just enough space for his single-sized bed, a desk made from dark oak, and a wall-embedded TV, which served as his evening entertainment. He also had a kitchen in a separate room from his bedroom and a cabernet he used as his food storage. The bathroom was also tied to the other side of his room but unlike most it was pretty much just a cabinet, one that barely fitted the sink along with the toilet, it was a rather sorry sight to say the least.

On the bed lay a solitary suitcase containing all his belongings, neatly packed.

Upon entering his room, Adrian slid open a drawer and retrieved a hefty book. It was an imposing tome, purple in colour, adorned with a purple crystal from which lines radiated in all directions at random, throughout the book cover.

"Let's give it another shot today," he murmured, placing the book on his desk.

From his bag, he extracted a small test tube filled with a clear liquid. He reached for his desk drawrer and took out a small mic like device, it looked like a small usb stick with a muffled mic on the end the size of an ear bud. He brought the device up to his mouth and pressed a tiny red button on the side of it.

"Test 413, Mercury. Let's see how it goes."

Adrian slowly poured the liquid onto the book's pages. His experiments had thus far yielded no results, and this attempt proved no different.

"No reaction," he noted, pouring the entire contents of the test tube onto the book. Still, there was no response.

Examining the book closely, Adrian found no sign of damage. "Another failure. Why won't you open? Why did my parents even have this thing?"

 Four hundred and thirteen times, he had tried various methods to unlock the book's secrets—burning, cutting, melting—all in vain.

Defeated, Adrian retreated to his bed, flicking on the TV for some semblance of company. The news report droned on in the background.

"The peace treaty with the Echelon race has held for six years, but tensions are escalating, and preparations for another war are underway..."

The mention of war had become a constant on the TV, a reminder of past conflicts. Six years ago, humanity had faced the Echelons, humanoid beings with large alien eyes and pearlescent-armoured and form shifting skin, who demanded both resources and servitude. Despite their advanced biology and technology, humans were powerless against the Echelons whose resilience thwarted conventional weaponry.

The war had left Adrian orphaned at the age of ten, his parents lost to the battle. He still had family. But due to the circumstance of his parents death were unwilling to take him in until he finished military school and made some what of a name for himself in whatever career path he choose to go down.

In humanities darkest hour, individuals with extraordinary abilities emerged, sharing their secrets to help turn the tide. These gifted few had given humanity hope, leading to the eventual peace treaty signed six years prior. Yet, those in power hoarded these abilities, leaving the rest with mere scraps.

Adrian had been left with nothing but a useless dusty book and an apartment fund when his parents passed away. The government provided him with basic funds while he attended school, but that was the extent of their support. On that fateful day, a government agent had handed him the mysterious book—the sole possession his parents had left him in their will.

"Why is the world so unjust?" Adrian wondered aloud.

Pushing his glasses, more than slightly done in now, he attempted to repair them. One lens was out of alignment, and in frustration, he punched it back into place.

"Come on, just go back in you prick!" he roared, but the lens shattered, slicing a deep gash into his knuckle.

"Why does the world hate me so much, fuck!?" Adrian lamented, hastily cleaning up the tiny glass shards. One shard had landed on the book's cover, and as he removed it, a drop of blood from his knuckle fell onto the book's purple crystal.

"Oh fuck me, if this works ill-" But Adrian was unable to complete that sentence.

The crystal began to emanate an illuminating and eerily haunting glow, the book levitated into the air defying what Adrian thought to be feasible based on the amount of tests he had done. The book began to pulse out with raw untamed energy and just like that Adrian's world spiralled into a surreal frenzy.

"What the heck is happening?!" he exclaimed.

The book trembled uncontrollably. It opened, pages turning rapidly. Though Adrian couldn't comprehend the strange language, he felt an inexplicable connection to the text, though he only caught a few glimpses before it had slammed shut.

As the final page turned, the book disintegrated into nothing. Simultaneously, his vision dimmed, his strength waned, and his eyes forcibly shut.

But just before he succumbed to unconsciousness, a single message resonated in his mind:

"Congratulations, you have been granted the To..."