Chapter 1: Betrayal's Echo
August 17, 10 NE (Nexus Epoch)
Six figures stood before the enigmatic gate, their conversation lighthearted as they shared moments of camaraderie and laughter.
"Hey Nathan, remember to heal my wounds; since it's a low-level gate, I plan on being reckless." The group chuckled, well aware of Adrian's penchant for daring actions.
As they entered the gate, an inexplicable freeze took hold of them. Cold sweat trickled down their necks, the world bathed in an ominous red hue. A commanding voice echoed, "What do we have here, lambs to the slaughter. At least they aren't weak. Try to SURVIVE."
A Few Hours Later,.....
Nathan, battered and bloodied, emerged from the gate alone, his gaze clouded with sorrow. His friends, companions for nearly a decade, lay lifeless within the confines of the mysterious portal.
His boss regarded him with a knowing smile. "I expected nothing less from the number three Spark in the world. Now, where is it?" Fatigued, Nathan conjured an ornate box and presented it to his boss. "Sir, they all perished. We were deceived. This gate was, at the very least, a Black-Rank threat."
"I know, Nathan. I orchestrated the misinformation," his boss admitted with a cruel smile before thrusting a blade into Nathan's heart. Shocked and broken, Nathan met his boss's gaze, seeking an explanation. "Your moral code and strength hinder my goals. So, go die. It pains me to lose such an asset, for what it's worth."
Bleeding out on the cold floor as the gate closed, Nathan's rage-filled eyes locked onto his former boss. In a desperate bid for survival, he tapped into the last reserves of his energy, overdrawing and causing a backlash. Activating his chronomantic abilities, he sent a message across the fabric of time to his past self, "I don't have much time. Don't reveal your power, and beware the IACC."
The world faded to black.
*************************************
March 4, 2023
BEEP BEEP BEEP
The relentless blare of the alarm clock shatters the morning stillness. Nathan, jolts awake, his arm swiftly emerging from beneath the snug covers to silence the clamoring sound. With a yawn and a stretch, he rises from the bed, revealing a lean yet athletic frame.
In the bathroom, Nathan faces himself in the mirror. The water from the sink cascades over his hands and onto his face, momentarily hiding his features before revealing a determined countenance. His dark skin seems to glow with a healthy vitality as he readies himself for the day.
Light exercises follow, accentuating the well-defined muscles that hint at both strength and agility. The rhythmic flow of the shower revitalizes him, and he emerges, now dressed, with a quiet confidence.
Descending the stairs, he finds breakfast laid out on the table. Snatching up an apple, he calls out toward the stairs, "Hey Uncle Fred, I'm leaving for school." The gruff voice of Uncle Fred responds with a warning about breakfast, met with Nathan's laughter and a nonchalant "Can't hear you, see you when I get back."
Keys in hand, he strides towards the garage, where a sleek Ford Mustang awaits. The engine roars to life at his command, and he eases the car out of the garage, navigating the streets with the practiced ease of someone who has done this routine countless times.
Upon arrival at the school, Nathan parks the Mustang with a sense of familiarity. As he walks through the hallways, exchanging greetings with acquaintances, his presence exudes a quiet confidence befitting a senior in high school. Finally, he steps into his first class, ready to face the challenges and adventures of the day ahead.
Sir Thomas stood at the front of the advanced algebra class, a room filled with eager minds ready to tackle the complexities of mathematical abstraction. The whiteboard behind him bore intricate equations, and the hum of anticipation filled the air.
"Now, class, let's delve into the realm of advanced algebra. I want you all to follow along in your notes, as we explore these concepts together," Sir Thomas declared, his eyes scanning the room. "Let's start with a polynomial equation."
He wrote on the board: \(2x^3 - 5x^2 + 4x - 7\).
"Can anyone tell me the degree of this polynomial?" Sir Thomas inquired, his gaze sweeping across the sea of faces. A few tentative hands went up, but he spotted Nathan, sitting confidently near the front.
"Nathan, care to enlighten us?"
Nathan, never one to shy away from a challenge, responded with assurance, "The degree of this polynomial is 3, Sir. It's the highest power of the variable, which is \(x^3\)."
A nod of approval from Sir Thomas acknowledged Nathan's correct response. The class followed along in their notes, jotting down the solution.
Encouraged by Nathan's accuracy, Sir Thomas posed another question. "Let's factorize this polynomial, shall we?"
The equation now on the board read: \(2x^3 - 5x^2 + 4x - 7\).
Nathan's hand shot up again as he confidently answered, "The factorization of this polynomial is \((x - 1)(2x + 1)(x - 7)\), Sir."
A ripple of impressed murmurs spread through the class, but Sir Thomas was quick to challenge the others. "Now, let's see how the rest of you fare. Sarah, how about you give it a try?"
As the class worked through the factorization, some students stumbled, while others navigated through the intricate steps. Nathan, however, maintained his composure, his proficiency in advanced algebra shining through each meticulous solution. The air in the room hummed with the energy of mathematical exploration, and Sir Thomas couldn't help but appreciate the collective pursuit of knowledge within his advanced algebra class.
With the exhilarating algebra class behind them, the students eagerly embraced the prospect of an unexpected day off. As they filed out of the school building, the impending storm announcement from Principal Hathorne echoed through the hallway speakers, delivering the news of a forecasted category EF3 tornado. The collective cheer that erupted was palpable, and the students wasted no time in sprinting out of the school, relishing the unexpected reprieve.
Nathan, walking calmly to his car, caught sight of his best friend since middle school, Brent Tate. Brent, recognizable by his signature hoodie and a complexion that spoke of late nights, awaited Nathan by the exit. Catching each other's gaze, Brent removed his hoodie, revealing wavy brown hair that fell across his pale skin marked with deep eyebags.
Waving, Brent waited until Nathan reached him, and they shook hands before pulling each other into a half-hug. Nathan, with a grin, asked, "So, how do we spend the rest of the day?"
Brent suggested, "How about a game of baseball?" Nathan's immediate understanding was reflected in his grin.
They hopped into their cars and drove until they found a spacious, empty clearing. Brent retrieved a baseball bat from the trunk, accompanied by a crate filled with empty beer bottles. Nathan positioned himself a few meters away, bat in hand.
Without warning, Brent picked up a bottle and flung it toward Nathan with full force. Time seemed to slow as Nathan focused, readying himself. With precise timing, he swung the bat, shattering the bottle into a cascade of glass shards. Laughter erupted as they repeated the process, the joy of each successful hit fueling their camaraderie.
After several rounds, Nathan's hands began to feel numb. Calling for a time-out, they perched on the hood of Nathan's car. Pulling out his phone, Nathan checked the weather forecast, discovering that the storm had intensified, ensuring its imminent arrival. Deciding it was best to head home, they stowed away the baseball gear, their laughter echoing through the clearing as they drove away, ready to weather the storm in the safety of their homes.