Full of Strange Fellows
Abel had several reasons for desperately wanting to attend the Continental Academy, but the biggest one was to cultivate the power needed to protect himself and his loved ones. No matter how much he honed his skills alone, he couldn't escape being a frog in a well. For ability users, what mattered most was talent combined with experience, which multiplied its effectiveness exponentially. Even though he had his older sister Lumine, a light manipulator, that alone wasn't enough. He needed to clash with more ability users and gain diverse experiences.
Then what next? There were several reasons, but if he had to pick one, Abel would answer like this: 'I'm a transmigrator, after all. I've even become an ability user. I can't just live like some nobody.' He didn't know about other genres, but in ability-user stories, the so-called "extras" met one of two ends: dying early or vanishing without a trace. Neither was welcome from Abel's perspective. Maybe that was his fate. He believed he was the protagonist of his own life without a doubt, but this world's protagonist might have been decided from the start. He wanted to believe otherwise, but Abel was a character who couldn't even make it as a side character—a passing extra, a nobody, destined to fade away quietly.
To deny that head-on. To stir up this genre. What he absolutely needed for that was fame. Put simply, he had to become a name worth remembering.
The conclusion was clear. So, how to achieve it? What path would let him twist an uncertain future and forge his own destiny? The answer lay right there. Those guys, causing a massive ruckus from day one—clearly protagonist-level figures—would show him.
"It was my mistake expecting a conversation from a water manipulator. Let's just settle the hierarchy here."
"You flames-for-brains always yapping about hierarchy. Fine, let's do it."
Tremendous pride and confidence in themselves. They manifested their surging flames and churning waves. I'm a fire ability user, a water ability user. As if to prove it, with their bright red hair and deep blue locks. If you couldn't figure out who these two were after that, you might as well drown yourself in a saucer of water.
"Why on earth did the sons of Phoenix and Master Sparrow arrive on the same day, at the same time?"
"Prince Kalligo? Then those two over there... no way."
"Lady Seria's prediction is correct. The red-haired man on the left is Flam Phoenix. The one opposite is Portus Sparrow. Masters of pyrokinesis and hydrokinesis, respectively."
Flam Phoenix. Son of Akin Phoenix, the continent's top pyrokinesis user, the pinnacle of fire manipulation.
Portus Sparrow. Eldest son of Jecob Sparrow, hailed as the greatest hydrokinesis user in history.
As the saying goes, a great father doesn't guarantee great sons. Expectations and the resulting pressure often crush them instead. But Flam and Portus hadn't yielded or broken. They'd poured blood and sweat into living up to those expectations and succeeding their fathers. As a result, both had awakened early, prepared for the academy, and earned unanimous approval from the examiners.
"I heard they deliberately scheduled their arrival for the same day because rival attributes can't get along. How did things spiral this far...!"
Kalligo rubbed his forehead again. He'd wanted a quiet life, but his classmates were all like this. What good was hiding alone? In a group of weirdos, normalcy stood out as the real oddity.
Ku-goo-goo! Flames rained down and waves surged as they geared up for the real show. New freshmen gawked with wide eyes like rabbits, while upperclassmen had already popped popcorn and drinks, ready to spectate. No one seemed inclined to intervene.
This was the Continental Academy. Clashes between ability users happened daily. As long as there was no malice, it was all tolerated—like a training ground.
It was a minor issue that freshmen hadn't even had their entrance ceremony yet, but so what? At best, it was entertaining; at worst, a chance to gauge potential enemies' strength. And since it wasn't mere bluffing, all the more valuable.
"This won't do."
No more. He had to stop those two. The commotion had gone far enough. He'd avoided stepping in, but the academy fell under imperial jurisdiction, and Kalligo was an imperial prince. Sitting idle while a mere disturbance escalated into a serious fight would betray his duty as royalty.
"Don't."
"Abel?"
"Weren't you trying to keep a low profile? Getting involved will spread your name everywhere."
Abel's intervention narrowed Kalligo's eyes.
"Leave it to me. For the sake of your peaceful academy life, I'll handle this once."
"That's exactly why I'm trying to stop you, Abel."
Those eyes of yours don't look like someone planning to de-escalate. More like you're itching to jump in and join the fun. It's only been two days since we met, and you can lie about doing this for my sake without batting an eye. You're one strange fellow. A strange fellow I have no choice but to rely on.
"Keep it moderate. Just moderate."
"Worried about getting labeled a problem child before classes even start?"
"That's part of it, but there's more. This isn't a major exam—better not to reveal your full hand here."
"Of course not."
Abel strode forward confidently. Seria watched his back with undisguised worry, even as massive flames roared and house-sized waves crashed ahead.
"Will he be okay? Maybe we should wait for seniors or professors to step in. If Abel gets hurt..."
"Is that really what you think, Lady Seria?"
If Kalligo had to name one perk of being a prince, it was meeting all sorts of people—and learning to read them. Their character. What they hid. Their true nature.
Those two aren't pushovers, yet he claims he can stop them without going all out. What's his plan, Abel?
His eyes held conviction. His voice brimmed with certainty that he'd succeed. There was definitely a method, but Kalligo couldn't guess what.
What was he scheming? At first, he'd thought Abel was just skilled with a sword, but maybe he was equally adept at handling people...
"You two. How about skipping the fight and getting an objective evaluation instead?"
Huh? What did he just say?
"You're stuck spamming counters because you're watching each other. So, do this: Each of you hit me with your best move. I'll judge who wins based on that."
"...?"
Is this guy insane? He knows who they're up against and still makes that ridiculous proposal?!
Kalligo nearly shouted for him to stop the nonsense, but the fire-and-water duo beat him to it.
"Hey, you sure about that? You could get hurt."
"Of course."
"Fine. Let's do it now. Hey, arsonist—me first?"
"Ha! Starting first so you can claim I lost because his stamina was drained? Coward."
"Then you go first!"
"Making me go first so you win easily?"
"Damn it, then what?!"
All freaks. How could none of those three standing there be normal? What rotten luck with classmates.
Kalligo clutched his face and sighed, then glanced at Seria beside him.
"Thank you, Lady Seria."
"Huh?"
"Thanks to you, I could forget the world's worries for a bit."
Yeah. If even Seria was one of those classmates, he'd endure.
To cut to the chase, Abel failed to get what he wanted.
"Everyone, stop! Forgot the warnings before crossing the academy gates? We tolerate some commotion, but we never said you could turn this into a circus!"
A professor watching the scene used telekinesis to snag the two snarling boys mid-air. Even dangling like fish, Flam and Portus showed no sign of stopping—they even agreed to settle the unfinished bout soon.
Thanks to them drawing all the aggro, Abel avoided getting flipped upside down like them. As a brave freshman who stepped up, he even earned a bit of respect.
Too bad. Such a shame.
The person involved was smacking his lips in regret.
Flam Phoenix. Portus Sparrow. Both sons of fathers who reached the top with a single ability. They'd surely inherited elite training, making them superior to most. Clashing with them could condense ten ordinary fights into a few—and yield better insights despite fewer rounds.
That made the missed opportunity sting even more. The mood was perfect for going all out. He'd asked if they could handle it, but Abel prided himself on his physical prowess and durability. Even before awakening his sword ability, his physical enhancement was at its peak. As a kid, he'd half-jokingly suspected his endurance and adaptability were his actual ability.
"Abel Rothschild."
"Here."
"Follow me."
Afternoon brought power measurements for freshmen. No helping it. He'd vent this frustration at the testing ground.
Abel followed the professor with eager anticipation.