Theron
I lay on the ground, the shade of the tree enveloping my entire body and shielding me from the harsh glare of the sun. The leaves above danced gently in the breeze, creating a soothing canopy that felt like a sanctuary. Beside me rested my new book, Exciting Harvest, its pages inviting and full of promise. I had already finished half of it, captivated by the vivid world within its covers.
I found myself here after making the decision to escape my classes, a choice that filled me with a sense of liberation. Not for a moment did I regret it—not even a bit. Being ranked F in the Haven had turned out to be the most sensible decision I had ever made. I had opted out of the relentless pursuit of excellence, choosing instead a path of quiet reflection and self-discovery.
There were no extra skill-development training sessions to endure, no exhausting drills that drained my spirit. The trainers and teachers were all too often the same, they focused more on their own interests than on guiding us. They love prioritizing their desires over the growth of their students. Instead of fostering knowledge, they indulged in their personal pursuits, leaving us to navigate the waters of our own learning.
As I lay there, the warm earth beneath me and the gentle rustle of leaves overhead, I felt a sense of peace settle within me. This moment of solitude was a gift, a chance to explore my thoughts and immerse myself in the stories that beckoned from the pages of my book. Here, away from the expectations of the Haven, I was free to discover who I truly was.
You could find a teacher sitting in her chair, ordering us to write essays on bizarre topics like "Why Should You Not Take a Bath on Sundays?" I often wondered where such assignments came from. Considering our rank, we should have been provided with the best facilities to improve, but in the Descendants Haven, you only receive better things when you advance your rank. The system is straightforward: you get what you deserve based on your position.
There are seven ranks in this Haven, starting with F as the lowest. Above F are E, D, C, B, and A, with the highest rank being Savants—the undefeatable ones. They stand first in line for the succession of God's will.
This is what everyone has been pursuing, and it's the reason they are here. However, this is not what I want. I am simply here to fulfill my role as a member of the Creed clan—to attend classes in the Haven, even if I don't involve myself in the fights. I will have to stay a few more years until I am dismissed.
I don't like the idea of being here. Not even a little bit of motivation stirs within me. Instead, I find myself simply waiting for the day my time is up. To help myself cope, I carry books to read—each page a small escape from the reality of my academic life. Once I'm finished with this phase, I dream of having my own garden and agricultural field where I can grow crops, nurture plants, and cultivate various types of flowers. That's the business I envision for myself. Life would be so much easier that way, free from the relentless grind of classes and expectations.
As I prepare to head back to class, the atmosphere shifts around me. The area is soon engulfed in chatter, the sounds of laughter and conversation blending into a lively symphony. It seems like lunchtime has arrived. I realize I'd better hurry; if I don't make my way to the cafeteria quickly, I might miss out on my lunch altogether. The thought of that motivates me to pick up my pace, weaving through the crowd of students, each one caught up in their own world.
Every day, I find myself eagerly awaiting a bowl of rice, accompanied by raw vegetables, corn soup, and a boiled egg. It's strange how I haven't grown tired of this meal, even after eating it almost every day for a week. I had heard that there was supposed to be a change in the menu today, but it seems that hasn't happened. Not that I really care; I've learned to accept the monotony of it all.
I glance around at my fellow students, each one lost in their own thoughts and conversations. The familiar aroma of the food wafts through the air, a comforting scent that has become part of my routine. I reflect on how this simple meal, though repetitive, provides a sense of stability in a world that often feels chaotic and overwhelming. I suppose there's a certain beauty in the ordinary, even if it means enduring yet another bowl of the same.
"Aren't we supposed to have a different menu today?" a guy with green hair and an untidy uniform asked, his tone sleazy.
"No," the woman serving the food replied curtly.
"What do you mean, no?" he shot back, incredulous.
"Those are the rules! Aren't you supposed to follow them?"
The woman stood up in anger, clearly fed up with his tantrums.
"Listen, kid! You can either eat this quietly or leave. The choice is yours," she said, tossing a kitchen towel at him.
"It's bad enough that we have to eat this tasteless food for a week. Now you want us to starve or eat in silence while the high-rankers get whatever they want?"
"Envious, are you? Then work to be one of them! Now get out! No food for you today," she said, pointing toward the exit.
After being chased out by the woman, the guy and his friends settled into the seats behind mine. It seemed he wasn't taking the exit as instructed.
"Hah!" he chuckled bitterly.
"It's pathetic how we're treated like mere pebbles because of our rank."
"Yes, you're right," another voice replied. One of them sighed and added, "I wish I had been born into one of those powerful clans."
"Yes, you're right."
"I would have been strong enough to be a Savant."
"I would be glad to belong to any support clan, but I'm not even privileged with that."
Most of the people in rank F were just commoners with low energy. They had managed to join the Haven simply because they could summon some form of energy. I understood where they were coming from; they were fighting against the odds as the weakest here, receiving little to no proper training. They wanted it badly—unlike me, who was here solely because of my family name.
"Someone like Theron Creed," one of them said loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"It's funny how he doesn't even know how to summon his energy," another chimed in, and soon the group burst into laughter.
This is how they cope with their miseries: by trying to make others feel worse when they can't rise above their circumstances. This wasn't the first time they had targeted me for their cheap amusement. I didn't care about their taunts; I had already chosen and decided on a simple existence—that was all. No one could ever make me change my mind.