After hanging his backpack inside the closet, Desmond climbed up to the top bunk.
Settling in, he pulled out his phone before dialing Lizzie's number. She picked up after a few rings.
"Hello? What is it?" Lizzie's voice was steady, but he could sense a hint of curiosity.
"I've got confirmation on an extra working for the Illuminati," Desmond whispered, mindful of Felix lounging on the bottom bunk, scrolling through his phone and seemingly oblivious.
Lizzie paused. "Already? It's only been a day since we got here."
"I know," he replied, his voice low.
He could practically feel her surprise through the phone. "I figured we'd cross paths eventually, but I wasn't expecting it this quickly either."
"Who is it? And where did you meet them?" she asked, her tone shifting to focused curiosity.
"He's here at the academy. I ran into him at the Council building," he said. "His name's Salvatore."
"The Academy," Lizzie muttered, her voice thoughtful as she digested Desmond's revelation.
It was troubling to realize just how far the opposition might go to accomplish their plans. But as her mind settled on Desmond's words, a new question popped up.
"Wait… what were you even doing at the Council in the first place?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.
Desmond smirked, unable to resist the smug satisfaction that bubbled up inside him. "I told you I'd be seeing you soon, didn't I?"
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Lizzie let out a delighted exclamation.
"You… That's amazing!" she said, the surprise in her voice quickly melting into excitement.
She was stunned by the news, but also genuinely thrilled for Desmond. "What grade did they assign it?" she asked, curiosity piqued.
At her question, Desmond's mood dropped. Although he knew his gift wasn't truly limited to level four, the official ranking still stung.
It meant he'd miss out on the top-notch resources and elite training reserved for students with high level gifts, and each reminder of that felt like a setback.
"Level four," Desmond muttered, his tone flat and rushed, trying to brush off the sting of it.
On the other end of the line, Lizzie let out a burst of laughter.
"Level four? Oh, that's rich! Two whole levels below mine!" Her laughter was bright and unrestrained, clearly enjoying the moment.
Desmond's jaw tightened, but he couldn't help but smirk, deciding to chip away at her amusement.
"Don't get too comfortable, Lizzie. You know better than anyone that combat ability doesn't rely on gift levels alone."
"Yeah, sure," Lizzie shot back, still chuckling. "But, come on, Desmond. Even if you try to close the gap, it's going to take you a while to catch up—especially with the extra resources I'll get because of my gift's level."
She paused, relishing the playful rivalry. "And don't think your perfect control over Celestial Fluid is a secret weapon. I'll match you there too."
Despite the teasing, a warmth lingered in her voice as she added, "But really, I'm glad you awakened a gift, Desmond. Knowing I won't be the only one going up against people who thrive on chaos and carnage… I can't tell you how much of a relief that is."
"You've got the twins too. Make sure you keep an eye on them as you go about things," Desmond reminded her. "I've got to go now, but… be careful."
"I will," Lizzie replied, her voice just a touch more serious. "You too."
With a final exchange of goodbyes, Desmond ended the call.
Kenny, can you display my physical stats? Like the Jem System does? he asked his system's intelligence, already visualizing what he wanted.
Kenny's voice echoed in his mind, its tone confident.
[I can do better], it replied.
In an instant, a status panel materialized in the air beside him, glowing softly with blue light.
[Name: Desmond Quill]
[Rank: One-Star Jury]
[Gift]
[Level One: Weapon Manifestation]
[Stats]
Strength: 12
Agility: 13
Stamina: 12
Constitution: 16
Affinity: 5
[Ways to Improve Your Stats]
Strength: (Weight Lifting) (Muscle Increase) (Muscle Control)
Agility: (Treadmill Workout) (Leg Workout) (Dodge Machine) (Dancing)
Stamina: (Jogging) (Swimming) (Consistent Training)
Constitution: (Nutrition) (Vitamins)
Affinity: (Repeated Usage) (Visualization)
Desmond studied the stats and improvement suggestions on the glowing panel.
There are techniques for most of this, you know, he noted, mulling over the list.
Kenny's response was swift. [I'm glad you can think of that yourself.] The words had a playful bite, almost as if teasing him.
Desmond snorted, smirking at the system's sarcasm.
Ignoring the jab, he decided to try out something he'd always dreamed of if he ever got the chance to attend the United States National Academy for the Gifted: testing his gaming skills.
"Let's see how I measure up against Evans, Will, and Gordon," he murmured, a grin tugging at his lips as he imagined the academy's gaming elite.
He leaped off the top bunk, landing with a controlled grace as the thrill of challenge ignited his energy.
He glanced over at Felix, who was sprawled stomach-down on his bed, completely engrossed in a movie, his headset blocking out the world.
Desmond looked away from Felix, stepping out of the room.
The hallway was quiet as he moved through the passageway, passing a few students who were absorbed in their own activities.
As he navigated his way through the dormitory, he eventually found himself in front of an elevator.
Glancing at the panel, he quickly tapped the button for the tenth floor, waiting a few seconds before the doors slid open with a soft chime.
He stepped inside, tapping the button for the first floor.
Bringing his attention to his phone, he rested on the walls of the elevator as it began its descent to the first floor.
When he exited the boys' dormitory, the crisp morning air hit him, sending a chill through his coat.
He quickened his pace, his breath visible in the cold as he walked the short distance to the simulation hall.
The glass double-sided doors greeted him, and as he stepped inside, he felt the comforting warmth envelop him, easing the chill from his body.
Desmond slipped off his coat and scarf, draping them over his left arm as he scanned the hall.
It was massive, with simulation pods lining the walls, each enclosed in a clear glass box and marked with a student ID number.
The air buzzed faintly with the hum of technology, and the faint smell of ozone hinted at the advanced simulations running within these walls.
He walked up to his assigned glass pod, its walls polished to a perfect gleam and labeled with his ID number.