Everyone I talked to thought that war changed a person.
The kind-hearted would be forced to adopt a killer's mask to hide themselves from guilt, or just learn to accept their sins.
The brave would be dead within the seconds.
The kind would be dead in the next minute.
Only those who could kill would survive, and they were right.
My Father was a bright and cheerful person before he was sent off to fight the Acno.
He worked hard to support us, and I respected him for it.
My Mother wasn't strong enough to do anything profitable, but it meant that she could be with me for everything that I need.
My Father had a safe job as a doctor in a clinic 20 minutes from home, so it never felt like he was out of reach.
He had time off, and whenever it wasn't with my Mother, or his friends, it was with me.
If my school had an event that would overlap with his schedule he would ask my Mom to get him on the hologram, so he could watch during his hour long smoke break.
When his boss did let him come to Parents Day, I got to make a pin with him.
It was a small little dove.
Despite my 9 year old drawing skills, I was able to get the look down.
He wore it everywhere, and even if I didn't see it on his big lab coat, I knew if was on his silver necklace.
I really loved him, but sadly one day he had to leave.
When I was 12, I woke up early to surprise my father, as I always had.
I was up at 6 am, and ready to go hide in a new spot, but when I did my check to make sure he was there I found nothing.
Instead I found a small letter that said,
"Arthur, you have to fulfill your end of the deal. We have given you your allotted time and some extra. You must come to us now, and if we don't have to come get you ourselves, we won't do anything excessive. I understand you love your family, so we gave you more time, but I can't hold it off forever. We need you, and I hope you understand that.
I expect to see you back over here.
Sincerely, Johnathon Moore.
PS, it is only going to be 4 years, so lets make this easy."
I may have been young, but I wasn't completely stupid.
This letter was all I was going to have concerning my Father for at least 4 years.
Turns out I was stupid because we got to see him earlier than that.
He came back to us when I was 15, but he came back to us a changed man.
I could only have imagined how hard it must have been, but the agent who arrived with him didn't say anything whenever I asked him.
My Mother was crying, and I was just staring at him because my Father had certainly changed.
When he came back he was still my Father, and there is nothing that could have separated us.
There was just something slightly different about him that had my Mothers in tears.
It wasn't that he had sustained massive scars, or lost a limb.
He hadn't come back as this cold-hearted criminal who would kill for fun.
It was just the way he was presented.
His tall and wide figure felt like it could finally fit through a coin slot, and his beaming smile didn't shine through his lips this time, and it slightly terrified me.
The agent, dressed in all black, stood silent with my Father, and didn't say a word as my Mother broke down.
Immediately after seeing him she had fallen to her knees, and our soft carpet floor didn't hide the loud thud from our neighbors.
Luckily they were at work already, and we didn't have to deal with their complaints.
When my mother fell I was given a box by the crow-like man, and I nearly dropped it.
The box wasn't covered in anything I considered disgusting, or that I would normally avoid like the plague, but the way the rose pattern was engraved on it felt repulsive.
The flowers' vines wrapped around it intertwining with themselves, but the two flowers remained pristine.
A truly grotesque design.
After what felt like hours the tall and collected agent decided to talk to me.
"I need to leave now, but do feel free to open it," he said, "Here is our signature, don't be afraid to call us for support, it is the least we can do."
I mumbled a quick assurance, and he quickly disappeared as if he was never here.
I ignored the repulsive feeling the box gave me, and carefully set it down on our humble dinner table, and helped my Mother to her bed.
When I could only hear her sobbing through the thick covers of her bed I returned to the table.
The box stood there as if it belonged within these sacred walls despite its demonic nature.
I safely lifted the thorny lid, and greeted my Father for the first in a while.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
After Father returned, Mother didn't come out of her room for a while.
I didn't want her to die, so I kept on giving her some processed food, so she could eat it whenever she wanted to.
I never saw her leave her room, but whenever I got back from school things were rearranged.
Despite the numerous changes in the room's structure the table stayed in the center throughout its turbulent lifetime.
The only change to it was the box that stood proudly atop it.
My life didn't change when my Father came back, but it didn't matter because my school life was finally ramping up.
The classes were hard, the testing was more rigorous, and my everybody was isolating everyone.
Rankings were decided by how good you did, so nobody gathered around each other.
They were all afraid of the future.
The awakenings were ahead of us, but few were happy.
School would start with the teacher lecturing us for hours on end without pause.
The only break was when we had to go to the ever lovely outside.
Grass greener than a real plant, and a mile long track for the warm up laps.
Kids loved the outdoor class just as much if not more than the morning lectures.
That is to say it was hated.
Nobody liked school, yet they still had to go.
I went everyday, and I passed with hard work.
I was better than average, and was around the top 1%, but that wasn't without sacrifices.
My room wasn't my own anymore, but I was okay with it.
The notes were neatly stored row by row on my small book case.
My drawings covered the plain white walls.
The search history on my account was simple too.
Small questions I had no answer to, and what talent I could get.
There was also the occasional search for why I should continue, or what was the newest trend, but otherwise it was a monotonous receipt.
In contrast to that my contacts were filled to the brim with people begging for homework answers, or asking to hang out.
I never replied to those, but I didn't ignore them.
I politely gave them hints to the answer, or said I was busy.
My teachers were the ones who hated me because any text was strictly professional and blunt.
It was always just a question about what I was missing on the homework, and my teachers hated that.
When they were about to fall asleep before the new day I would contact them, and their eyes would incinerate from the bright light of their preferred electronic.
Despite the hate I brought I always got a response.
I always got two, but I mostly ignored the first one.
The "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ZEN, GO TO BED FOR FU..." got boring because they weren't as creative at 2 am as they were in class.
They did eventually answer my question though because they didn't want to go behind bars.
I never read them fast enough to respond because I always went to bed after sending out the messages, but they always helped me out at 6 am.
I always have been waking up at 6 am, and even with my Father back I still do.
The first thing I do is shower.
The second thing I do is get dressed and ready for school.
I also check my messages, and finish any homework I hadn't finished earlier.
The third thing I do is eat breakfast across from the two boxes on the table, and then I am off to school for my last last year of high school.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
The agent that gave me that phone number is actually named Sam.
Only Sam.
At least, that is what he wants me to believe.
He didn't really tell me anything about what happened to my Father.
Except for the fact, he died on Mars.
Nobody told me my Father was going to be sent out to war like he was a foot soldier.
He may not have been the strongest, but that was because he was a medical man; a doctor.
My Father never claimed to be anything beyond a Yellow Grade healer.
The reason patients liked him was because he wasn't overcharging them for his services.
He tried to make everybody's day better because he hadn't had the best life.
Why was someone unfit for direct combat sent to Mars?
That is what I need to know.
Sam didn't tell me when I asked him, but I could tell there was definitely something hidden from me.
The first thing I need to do is finish these last 2 months until the awakening.
Sam and whatever organization have been supporting me financially, but now it is time for me to go somewhere.
An academy seems like the next best step.
The most likely possibility is that the Anco killed him, and if they did I won't be able to do anything.
At an academy I will be able to learn how my talent works, and after that I can go find out what happened to my Father.
All I need is for an above average talent.
Every talent I have ever seen has had some gimmick that I could exploit.
Even the best have a weakness, so I just need a talent that can I can use appropriately.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
"Are you ready to awaken your talent?" Sam asked while I was walking to school.
He had been keeping more contact with me recently, and I am guessing that this organization is interested in the seed they have been planting.
"Yep, just a little nervous,"I calmly replied to the hologram.
I wasn't just a little nervous, I was nearly having a break down, but it didn't matter at this point.
I just had to get this over with so I could move on with life.
I walked through the tall gates of our cubic school.
For a school in this high tech world, it was a weird experience seeing all of the concrete just shaped into a glorified box.
The inside was cool and well monitored, but aside from the advanced AC and security the building was mostly old style architecture.
I made the lefts and right necessary to reach my class, and ignored the unnecessary chatter coming from other students.
The kids were rumbling on and on about how "Today is our big day" and "I hope I get a good talent".
None of that helped.
My normal poker face was gone, and replaced with a grimace.
The last 4 years came to this moment, and I was not ready.
I could prepare for tests, but this was no test.
This was going to be a once in a lifetime game of plinko.
Even if recent research proved a connection between talents and genetics, there was no way for a guaranteed jackpot.
My Mother's talent wasn't made for battle.
Her talent would make the target feel like they were comfortable which had some utility, but her talent could only do it to small and weak monsters.
There was no way I could go to a prestigious academy or average academy with that, yet even some low end ones could reject me.
My Father's talent would be able to guarantee me acceptance to an average college, and maybe even high end, which I wouldn't hate.
I let out a powerful sigh.
There was no way I could get into the best of the best, but I only need an average, so I would be fine.
"Everybody it is time for the awakening!" our homeroom teacher yelled, "Line up now, so we can get going. Anybody not coming with us can kiss their awakening goodbye!"
Everyone started to line up, and I headed to the front.
I had the lovely position of line leader because I was the best in class.
Nobody envied me though because it been almost three years with the same result.
I was first, and anybody who had tried to catch up to me in this class had fallen apart.
I was getting 100's while everybody else was getting 85's.
Despite the understanding of the work I put into school, nobody looked at me with any sort of admiration.
"Let's get going now!" our homeroom teacher yelled, and I started to move.
I led us right down the hall, and went at a pace that left nobody behind.
The stairs took a bit to get to, but the class had maintained an absolute silence.
Chattering students were quick to silence themselves as they walked by their teachers.
The teachers were all strong enough to break their bones without even using their talents.
Said teachers weren't even Yellow Grade.
We eventually reached a large, pair of black doors.
When the teacher made sure we were all here, the doors opened.
I marched us along the small pathways, so we could all get into the auditorium neatly.
Our class was one of the first there, yet it was still hard to get through the knee scraping gaps between seats.
My seat was at the near opposite of where we entered, so it was a long trek, but we all made it safely.
The seats that you were sitting on allowed you to have a small amount of cushion to rest in.
That small amount of cushion was just enough to help me concentrate.
At the normal spot where a podium was placed, there was nothing.
The classes eventually start talking among themselves, and gradually as more classes joined in, it sounded like a small convention.
I closed my eyes, and covered my ears.
Why the heck can't they be quiet, I thought.
I thrived in silence, and that lack of disturbance is what helped me get to where I am.
Here in this congregation of students awaiting their awakening.
Everybody's voices suddenly shut off.
A burly man had walked onto center stage, and had his fingers held up in the shape of a coyote.
With everyone's attention turned to him he started to speak.
His voice boomed, "Welcome to the class of 2142's awakening ceremony."
"I looked around for which school to come to," he looked around the room, "This time I have come to your school."
Our school wasn't exactly the best, but Whiltshire High School did have a good talent come from last years batch.
"Last year there was an Indigo Grade, but from what I see this class won't be able to match that," he snapped his fingers, "I'd love to be proven wrong."
In front of him the floor slid to the sides, and a small, dark blue obelisk rose from the ground.
The sides were engraved with shapes that might have meant something if you spent the rest of your life in a lab.
Those shape gave of a mysterious allure.
The man who had just insulted all of them faded into the background as the obelisk rose through the hole in the ceiling.
Everyone held their breath as they watched it rose, and only when it stopped did they breath again.
I however noticed something.
Why are those shapes literally just 2D and 3D shapes that we learned about in Kindergarten, I wondered.
There were squares and triangles folding over the edges at the top.
As you looked down you could see some cubes, circles, and a heptagonal prism drawn on one side.
The burly man's voice interuppted his thoughts.
"To awaken you will come up to this stage when you are called, there will be no cutting, and when you come here you will touch the obelisk, so it can awaken you," he blabbered.
Everybody in the room had been through at least a day's worth of time being told how this ceremony went.
This literally determined their talent.
Nobody was able to escape it.
Four names were called up at a time, and when they touched the obelisk, a color shined from the sides touched.
The first time was three reds and one yellow.
Burly man wore a face that remained unimpressed.
The second time was two reds and two oranges.
His face had allowed the sides to drop slightly.
The third time had three oranges and one yellow.
A frown started to grow.
The fourth time was something different; it had two oranges, one green, and a blue.
The burly man's eyes widened, and his frown turned to a small smile.
His eyes started to follow the two whom had shown a green and blue.
He must want a green at least, I realized.
The burly man was probably a representative for an academy, and he could probably be from a high leveled one.
Eventually more kids were called, but none had gone beyond blue, only two had matched it.
By the time I had been called up there were 13 greens and 3 blues out of over 1000 students.
I only need to get a green, I thought, as I walked up the stage.
The burly man by this point was smiling with glee.
The students with reds were crying in their chairs.
Those who had oranges and yellows were quietly cheering.
Anyone who had awoken a green and blue were taken somewhere out of the auditorium, and were probably celebrating over their success.
"Put your hands on the obelisk," the burly man said, and I did exactly that.
My hand felt the smoothness of the obelisk, and also the divot created by a line that I would call a shape, but it felt like it was moving.
The Sphere above was still, so there was nothing wrong, but then my hand tingled.
The tingling quickly turned into a burning sensation, but I couldn't remove my hand.
The teachers had repeatedly told us to never remove our hand unless we wanted to become brain dead.
My hand eventually started to fell better, but before a light shone from anywhere it felt like everything froze.
The students' low sobbing abruptly stopped, and a holographic screen appeared in front of me.
(Welcome to the Disease System)
(Hello Zen)
(I am here to help you)
(Firstly what would you like your talent to be?)
Everything happened too fast.
There was no time to react.
I didn't read the messages that popped up on the screen.
They played in my head without any form of consent.
(Time to decide your talent ends in 60 seconds)
"What do you mean by deciding my talent?" I quickly asked.
(What level do you want your talent to be?)
This is happening way to fast, I tried to quickly come up with a few possibilities for the future.
(40 seconds remaining)
"Do I also get to decide my actual talent?" I asked.
(No, but you do get to decide how strong it looks)
So I get to decide on its Grade, but what do I want, I quickly pondered.
(20 seconds remaining)
The prestigious talents started applications at Blue Grade, but the students didn't always get in.
I could have a Purple Grade, and that can guarantee my acceptance anywhere, I realized.
I looked at the hologram in front of me.
(10 seconds remaining)
Purple is too good though, everybody wants a Purple Grade under them, I rationalized, I can make due with just an Indigo Grade.
"Give me an Indigo Grade," I decided.
(Good choice)
The quiet sobs were suddenly rocking around the room again, and the small cheers battled against them for dominance over the room.
Then light shined from the obelisk, and the results were in.
The last batch was one green, one blue, and two indigo.
I looked towards the blue at my right.
It wasn't anybody from my class, but he was slightly tall, with brown hair to his shoulders, and rounded it off with a balanced face.
The person to my left was a girl, but she was the one who had awakened a green, so I quickly glossed her over.
I looked at the person who had awakened an Indigo Grade.
She was a girl who had never interacted with me; despite her obvious intelligence.
Never at odds with me, but also never friendly.
She wasn't the school belle, but was certainly up there.
She had long black hair, and a pretty face with a pair of circular glasses.
She also had a seemingly hourglass figure, but I couldn't tell, and nobody was stupid enough to tell me.
There was only one reason I could remember her despite there being at least 6 girls sexier, cuter, or prettier.
She was the only one who had been able to keep up with my grades.
She was a monster in fighting and a genius in the classroom.
I think her name was Jessica, but I don't remember.
She only got 98's.
"All of you," the burly man pointed at us, "Come with me."
He walked out of a pair of double doors, and followed him into another auditorium.