Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

Split Hero

6ty
--
chs / week
--
NOT RATINGS
857
Views
Synopsis
In a world where Supers with innate "Talents" reign supreme, Rae is has no Talent—one of the 99% born without abilities. Despite that, she finds herself attending the nation's top academy for Supes, with no idea how or why she was admitted. Every day is an uphill battle being surrounded by narcissistic supes, especially when you're powerless. But you see... Rae has something known as a dissociative identity disorder. Everything you've read up until now describes only half of her. She has another personality. Remi. Everyone knows Remi. Because she is the most wanted Supe Killer. And no one knows what Remi looks like. Not even Rae.

Table of contents

VIEW MORE

Chapter 1 - Nightmare?

*First few chapters are in first person*

In the center of a massive fortress, a once-great chamber lay completely decimated.

Amid the wreckage, the lifeless bodies of men and women lay strewn across the chamber. Their twisted forms bore testament to the brutality of the battle that had taken place. 

Silently, a figure clad in a dark cloak moved through the ruined chamber, their footsteps echoing softly through the carnage. The figure's eyes, cold and calculating, surveyed the devastation with an air of satisfaction.

From the shadows, a lone man who had narrowly escaped death emerged, bloodied and battered. His eyes blazed with fury as he glared at the mysterious figure.

"You... You've destroyed everything!" he roared, his voice hoarse from the smoke and pain. "You're no superhero!"

The mysterious figure paused, turning their piercing gaze upon the enraged super. The silence was palpable, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment.

Gathering the last of his strength, the man's hands sparked with a dark energy. With a loud scream, he threw himself toward the figure in a final, desperate attack.

"CORROSIVE SHADOW BEA-"

Boink

I jolt awake, my forehead slamming against the ceiling.

"WRYY" I cry out, clutching my throbbing head.

Blinking away tears, I glance at my bedside clock.

3:48 AM.

Way past midnight.

"It was just a nightmare, girl. It wasn't real,"

"But why did it feel so...real? It's like... I was actually there."

My body aches all over, which isn't unusual. Most nights, I wake up drenched in sweat or feeling intense strain in various parts of my body. This time, I'm also incredibly thirsty. I grab the half-empty glass of water on my bedside table and gulp it down. As I do, I notice a small cut on my forearm.

"From where!?"

"Am I participating in the Olympics while I sleep?"

I glance back at the clock and nearly choke on my water. 7:49 AM!

"Shit! I hit my head so hard I read the time wrong!"

I jump out of bed and slam my face on the ceiling again.

"Ouch" 

Ignoring the pain, I race to get dressed. My shirt goes on inside out, my socks are mismatched. I slap a bandage on the cut on my forearm without even cleaning it.

"I'm leaving," I announce, bolting out the door.

"If I run fast enough, I'll make it on time..." 

"LATE!"

I freeze in the doorway of the classroom. Twenty pairs of eyes swivel in my direction, and I can feel each one boring into my soul. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I duck my head, shuffling towards the nearest empty seat. Maybe if I move fast enough, I can-

"Hold it..."

My body locks up mid-step. I wobble, suddenly off-balance, but I can't fall. Can't even blink. A chill runs down my spine as realization dawns.

A freeze talent.

"Now then," the instructor says, his voice calm and disinterested as he flips through his papers. "You must be... Rae?"

I try to nod, but my neck muscles refuse to cooperate.

"Yea?" I manage to squeak out, hating how small my voice sounds.

The instructor hums, still focused on his notes. His outstretched hand keeps me rooted to the spot, a silent reminder of the power gap between us.

Someone snickers. Whispers drift across the room.

"Weakest in the class..."

"Can't even break a simple hold..."

"Why is she even here?"

I want to disappear, to sink into the floor and never resurface. But I can't even do that. I'm trapped, on display for everyone to see.

The instructor finally looks up, frowning. Whatever he saw on the paper makes him raise an eyebrow. He lowers his hand, and suddenly I'm free.

My knees nearly buckle as the invisible force vanishes. I scan the room, spotting an empty seat in the back corner.

'Perfect'

After all, being surrounded by teenage supers when you're just a normal human is a recipe for disaster.

That's right. I'm human. No abilities, no powers, nothing special. Yet somehow, I've wound up in one of the most prestigious schools for supers in the country. Arcanum Academy.

As I make my way to the seat, the snickering continues.

"They're right," I mutter under my breath, slumping into the chair. "Why am I even here?"

It's a question I've asked myself a thousand times over the past year. At first, I thought this was training for some behind-the-scenes job in a super organization – maybe as an accountant or programmer. Something normal. Something safe. But the classes I've been assigned don't match that at all.

My eyes drift to my schedule. Next up: "The Psychology of Negatives AP 402." And right now I'm sitting in "Defense Against Spells Honors 321."

Not exactly spreadsheet material.

When class finally ends, I shuffle into the hallway, lost in thought. What a productive day – I've learned all about the freeze talent on my first day of the semester. Super useful.

'If I just keep to myself and become a teacher's pet or something... I should make it through this school year pretty smoothly.' A hint of a smile tugs at my lips. 'You got this Ra-'

"Oof"

Something slams into me, hard. One second I'm walking, the next I'm airborne. My back slams against the lockers. The world spins, and I blink, trying to focus.

A man stands in front of me. A very naked man.

"You perv!" A woman's voice screeches from down the hall. "Spying in the ladies restroom!"

My vision clears just in time to see the woman charging up a glowing red beam between her hands.

The naked man yelps and goes invisible.

I push myself up, groaning. 

"Where did he-"

The red beam shoots forward, straight at the spot where the man had been standing.

The spot where I'm now getting to my feet.

My eyes widen. "Holy shi-"

The blast suddenly changes course, bending right in front of my face. It shoots upward, striking the ceiling with a thunderous crack. Debris rains down as a gaping hole appears above.

"Getting into more trouble, Rae?"

I whip my head to the side, wincing at the movement. But the pain fades as I see her – the tall woman, dressed in all black except for that flamboyant red leather jacket. My shoulders sag with relief.

"Cherry..."

My best friend. My savior. Again.

The girl who fired the beam immediately backs down, her face pale. She trembles, eyes locked on Cherry. "Oh my god... Cherry... are you okay? I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to..." She babbles on, completely ignoring the fact that I was her actual target.

Cherry sighs, the sound filled with a weariness I know all too well. "All of you, just get back to class."

The command cuts through the air like a knife. Everyone scatters, and within seconds, the hallway is clear.

Of course they listen to Cherry. After all, she isn't just my best friend.

She's also one of the Top 10 strongest supers in the Academy.

Because she's an A-Grade super. 

Supers are ranked based on their Talents. It goes from F-Grade, also known as pilots, all the way up to S-Grade, the pinnacle of humanity (or supers... they don't like being called humans). Your Talent gets evaluated, and that's your rank.

F-Grades are at the bottom of the totem pole. That's what they think I am. They're called pilots because, well, without any significant Talent, the best they can hope for is to pilot the gear that actual supers use. They mostly end up in administration or HR related jobs. It's rare for an F-Grade to see any action.

Then you've got your D-Grades, C-Grades, B-Grades, and A-Grades. Each step up the ladder means more power, more respect, and more responsibility. A-Grades are what most supers aspire to be – powerful, influential, and an amazing salary.

But the real stars are the S-Grades. They're in a league of their own, with Talents that can reshape reality itself. And our little academy has two of them. That's more than any other school in the country.

It's why this place is so prestigious. Majority of the current and past S-Grades have graduated from here.

"Thanks," I mutter to Cherry

"Not an issue" 

"..."

"...."

"..."

"Uh, could you spot me the homework for Psyc-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you." I already knew what she was going to ask. I've been Cherry's homework hookup since the first semester, that's how we even became friends. 

"I don't know how you do it, Rae. You're the least and most talented person I've ever seen."

"I mean... I wouldn't really word it like tha-"

"No, really," Cherry insists. "You have no Talent. But you know more about Talents than anyone."

Talent this, Talent that. I couldn't care less. I just keep my knowledge up on it so that I don't get killed by you guys. 

In a world where a sneeze from an S-Grade could level a city block, knowledge is my only defense. It's not much, but it's all I've got.

I begin my walk home.

 'The world would be such a better place if supers and humans got along', I think to myself. It's a naive dream, but I can't help but cling to it.

"You little shit!", I hear coming from an alleyway that I just walked past.

I backtrack, peering into the alley.

A group of guys, all wearing Arcanum Academy uniforms, surround another student. The student on the ground has circular glasses, his hair falling over the top portion of his face. He looks terrified.

But it's the guy leading the pack that I recognize. Dede.

Dede is the richest nepo baby in this state and he's also a B-Grade so that's a pretty sick combo.

His parents couldn't agree on what to call him – his father wanted Derek, his mother insisted on Devyn. They settled on Dede, which sounds even dumber than their original choices

And now he's infamous for using his invisibility Talent to spy on girls. Yeah, that was him earlier today. 

"You promised me we were going to be in the same classes this semester," Dede snarls, looming over his victim. "BUT NOT A SINGLE CLASS IN OUR SCHEDULES MATCH!"

The guy on the ground cowers. "I'M A DIFFERENT MAJOR! I'M SORRY!"

Now Dede isn't very smart, despite his credentials. 

I watch as Dede and his goon squad take turns kicking the poor guy. 

"YEAH, YOU PROMISED ME TOO!" one of Dede's lackeys yells

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE??"

This is brutal. I've heard stories about Dede – he's not the warning type. He's hospitalized lower ranks before. And one of them even ended up dying, due to their injuries. But thanks to his parents' influence over the school, he's gotten away with everything.

Welp, there's nothing I can do to help, I'm not even a Pilot. 

Sorry dude got to go...

As I walk away, I continue to hear blood-curdling screams from the student. I clench my fist. 'I already vowed to myself to not attract any attention.' 'Plus Gramps needs me'.

"I'm home," I announce as I walk in. No response. "I'm homeeee."

"GUUAHHH," my old man finally responds, groaning from his couch.

I make my way over to the couch. He's lying flat, his head turned towards a small box TV in front of him. The TV is rotated sideways so he doesn't need to move his head from his position. Not that he can turn his head much anyway – he's hooked up to a CPAP machine pumping air into his mouth.

His skin is getting paler by the day, most of it covered in vicious burn marks. The few strands of hair he has left are on their way out. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows he's alive. He hasn't said a single coherent sentence in two years.

I sit next to him, gently adjusting his mask. My eyes drift to the lamp stand right next to the couch. The meds I refilled this morning haven't been touched.

"Gramps, you're not paralyzed. Why aren't you taking your meds..."

He slowly exhales through the machine, the sound filling the quiet room.

I walk over to the kitchen and make dinner, then return to the couch. Carefully, I take the mask off his face, revealing a heavily scarred mouth. I begin to feed him, spoonful by spoonful.

"I don't know how long I can do this," I say while pushing another spoonful into his mouth.

I sigh. "I'm dropping out of Arcanum."

All of a sudden, Gramps smacks the fork out of my hand sending it flying through a wall. He begins to choke.

I back up, "Wh- what?"

He begins to reach for me but fails, planting face-first into the floor.

"Gramps!"

The hospital room is stark and sterile. Harsh fluorescent lights beat down on pale green walls. The steady beep of monitors provides a constant, unsettling rhythm. Gramps lies motionless on the bed, connected to various machines by a tangle of wires and tubes.

A nurse enters, clipboard in hand.

"John Ivanov"

"Severe pulmonary fibrosis, third-degree burns over 60% of the body, chronic respiratory failure, and advanced stage Parkinson's disease."

Meanwhile I'm spaced out. All I can hear is mumbling, the words blending together into a meaningless drone.

"Has he been taking his prescriptions?" the nurse then asks.

I snap back to reality.

"Prescriptions." I look over to Gramps, who is aimlessly staring at the ceiling.

"Yea- Yeah... all fine."

"So he has been taking his Pirfenidone and Levodopa?"

"Yeah... yeah the Perfidun... for sure" 

"In fact, we might need a refill on those." I force out a chuckle.

"Uh huh," the nurse responds, "the doctor will send over a refill request for you to pick up on your way home."

"Sounds good," I mutter.

The nurse walks out of the room, leaving me and Gramps to ourselves. I glance over to him again, and he's still in the same position, staring blankly at the ceiling. I storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

Outside, I lean against the door, bringing my hand up to my face. My palm is red from when Gramps smacked the fork out of my hand.

"Since when was the old man so strong"

I slide to the floor.

Just like me, Gramps doesn't have any Talent. He would tell me he got his burn marks from a forest fire. When I asked again, he changed it to a job accident working as a welder, then a firefighter. Eventually, he would just tell me to shut up in his raspy, barely working voice.

I sigh. "I don't even know whats real anymore...."

"WAIT WAIT WAIT A MINUTE!"

The sound of a man screeching comes from the room right in front of me, interrupting my thoughts.

"Sir, we are going to need you to calm down," a female voice responds.

I get back up on my feet, peering into the room.

"NO GET THAT AWAY FROM ME"

"Sir, it's just an IV, we need to pu-"

"HAVE YOU NOT READ MY FILES? I HAVE A FEAR OF NEEDLES"

Holy shit. It's the kid that got trashed by Dede and his goons earlier today. He actually hospitalized him, that crazy bastard.

"AICHMOPHOBIA"

"Sir... that's not a legitimat-"

"It's legitimate alright. And you guys are putting me through emotional stress. I can sue all of you..."

At this point, multiple nurses have him pinned on his bed.

"This is RAPE... I DON'T CONSENT!"

A male nurse jumps on his bed, standing above him. He rests his hand on the kid's head and says, "Sleep," instantly putting the guy to sleep.

Looks like the nurses here have Talents too.