David's mind hummed with newfound clarity, the cyan glow of his awakened mental power pulsing beneath his thoughts.
He glanced at the clock, his heart quickening. Only nine hours had passed since he'd taken the potion.
Nine hours to unlock a gift that could reshape his future—a mark of genius, especially for someone not yet seventeen.
Among fighters, early awakening was a rare feat. Most began with genetic potions to bolster their bodies, only later, if at all, tapping into mental power. The sooner one awakened, the higher their potential soared.
At under seventeen, David stood at the threshold of greatness, his bronze high-level mental power, laced with silver threads, a promise of what he could become.
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For two days, he remained in his family's modest apartment, adapting to his newfound strength. The process was familiar, etched into his soul from his past life.
He practiced in the dim light of his room, feeling the cyan energy shift and settle, its rhythm syncing with his breath.
Objects trembled at his will—a pencil hovering, a book sliding across his desk—each small victory grounding his control.
By the second day, his mental power had stabilized, a steady force ready to grow with diligent training.
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The morning of the graduation exam arrived, crisp and cold, the northern sky a pale shroud over Frosthaven.
David left home, the weight of his parents' hopes a quiet fire in his chest. James and Mary had seen him off with proud smiles, their tired eyes bright with dreams of a better life. He carried their trust, their sacrifices, as he walked toward Northview High.
The campus was a whirlwind of activity, transformed into a stage for the city's future. Luxury cars lined the grounds, their polished surfaces glinting under the weak sun—symbols of wealth and influence, ferrying recruiters from Storm, Ironclad, and Apex Academies.
Students milled about, their voices a mix of nerves and bravado, each face marked by the weight of the day. The air buzzed with anticipation, the scent of snow and exhaust mingling, a reminder of Frosthaven's harsh vitality.
At the school gate, a figure stepped into David's path, broad and towering.
"David, you're here," the voice called, warm and familiar.
David looked up, a grin breaking across his face. Philip Cole stood before him, over 1.9 meters tall, his simple smile a beacon of their shared past.
Philip, his friend since childhood, was a pillar of strength, born with a natural gift for combat.
In David's past life, Philip had shone brightly, selected by Storm Academy in this very exam, becoming a formal fighter in mere months and earning renown across the northern region.
David, by contrast, had scraped into Ironclad Academy, his path marred by Alex Reed's interference and his own self-doubt. That shame had driven a wedge between them, their friendship fading as their paths diverged.
Now, seeing Philip's earnest face, David felt a surge of warmth, a chance to mend what had been lost.
He clapped Philip's shoulder,
"Phil, you're here early. Feeling confident?"
Philip scratched his head, his grin sheepish. "David, don't tell anyone, but I barely slept last night. Too much pressure. What if I mess this up? My parents are counting on me to make enough to get them a real house, not that cramped box we're in."
"Don't sweat it," David said, his voice steady. "You've got this. Storm Academy's got your name on it."
Philip's eyes lit up, his laugh booming. "If I get into Storm, I'm treating you to a feast—roasted tusk boar ! But you've gotta join Storm too, man."
"I'll do my best," David replied, his smile genuine. His strength had surged with his mental power, but without a proper test instruments at home, he couldn't gauge it fully. Today's exam would reveal the truth.
"How's the morning culture class prep?" David asked, nudging Philip. "You've gotta at least pass that."
"Got it covered," Philip said, tapping his temple. "Memorized it cold."
They walked toward the exam halls.
David's steps faltered as a figure appeared ahead, her presence like a melody cutting through the crowd's noise. Claire, her silky hair catching the light, stood with an effortless grace that turned heads.
Her eyes, bright and searching, met David's, a flicker of warmth in their depths. Even at her young age, her beauty was captivating, a quiet power that stirred his heart.
"David, it's Claire," Philip whispered, his tone teasing but kind. "She's looking at you."
Philip knew David's feelings, had seen the quiet longing in his friend's eyes over the years. He hoped for David's happiness, a silent wish between brothers.
In this reborn life, facing Claire, David felt a gentle joy, tempered by the weight of his past.
He had loved her once, in silence, never daring to speak. Now, with a second chance, that love was a steady flame.
"David, how're you holding up?" Claire asked, her voice clear, like water over smooth stones.
"No pressure," David said, smiling easily. "I'm ready."
"Good," she replied, her gaze softening. "Play your best, and any academy would be lucky to have you. But be careful. I heard…" She hesitated, her brow furrowing, then fell silent.
David's smile deepened, understanding her unspoken warning. "It's fine. The academies are above petty games. No one's word alone can sway them."
Claire nodded, relief in her eyes. She knew he'd caught her meaning—Alex's threats were no secret.
Another figure approached, his presence a sharp contrast to Claire's warmth.
Alex, his long hair disheveled, strode forward, a faint red palm print marring his handsome face.
The mark, days old, spoke of a fury that hadn't faded, a punishment for his reckless potion stunt.
David, Philip, and Alex were Class 3's pride, dubbed the three carriages, but Alex held the spotlight, his charm and lineage elevating him above the rest.
"Claire, what're you doing here?" Alex said, his voice smooth but edged, a performer masking his strain.
"I've been looking for you. There's a guy from Apex Academy—Uncle Ward, a friend of my dad's. Big name in the martial circles. Let me introduce you."
Claire's brow creased, her tone sharp and unyielding. "Why would your father's friend need to meet me? We're just classmates, Alex."
"Come on, Claire," Alex pressed, stepping closer, his voice softening to a plea. "You know how I feel. That post the other night? It wasn't about showing off. I did it for you—to prove I'd give up anything, even millions, for you. Money's nothing to me."
"It's childish," Claire snapped, her voice cutting like a blade. "Wasting resources like that? It's not impressive, it's naive. Your choices are yours, not mine."
David and Philip exchanged glances, their smiles barely concealed, a shared delight in Alex's rebuke.
Alex's face tightened, his charm dissolving under Claire's words. Unable to confront her, he turned his venom on David, his eyes narrowing to slits. "David, I warned you to stay away from Claire. My words mean nothing to you, huh?"
David's expression hardened, his voice low and unyielding. "Alex, you think too highly of yourself."
Philip stepped forward, his fists clenched, his voice a growl. "Alex, if you want a fight, let's see who's really top of Class 3. I've never bought your hype."
Facing both David and Philip, Alex hesitated, his bravado faltering.
His reputation outshone theirs, but in raw strength, Philip was a force, and David—something in his gaze today, piercing and unyielding, sent a chill through Alex.
With the exam hours away, he couldn't afford a misstep, not with recruiters watching.
"Fine, David," Alex spat, his voice thick with suppressed rage. "You've got guts. But your scores won't get you into a decent academy. Even if some backwater gym takes you, I'll make sure you regret it."
David laughed, the sound cold and deliberate, cutting through the morning air. "You lean on your dad's name, but that slap mark says it all. Talk about power when you're not wearing your father's shame."
He turned to Philip, his tone light but razor-sharp. "Phil, if some spoiled kid sold a 5-million-Dollars potion for 100, what'd his dad do?"
Philip grinned, leaning into the jab. "Slap him so hard he'd wish he was never born. Should've flushed him down the drain at birth."
David's laughter rang out, sharp and unrestrained, the barb striking true.
Alex's face paled, the truth of his humiliation laid bare. That slap, delivered by his father for the potion fiasco, was a wound he had hidden from all but his closest circles.
How David knew, he couldn't grasp, but the shame burned like a brand, exposed before Claire and Philip.
"You'll pay for this, David," Alex hissed, his voice trembling with fury. "Just wait." He turned and stormed off, his pride in tatters, his silhouette swallowed by the crowd.
Claire watched, a flicker of worry in her eyes, but she held her silence. Her bond with David was that of classmates, a fragile thread woven with unspoken possibilities. She sensed his feelings, had seen the quiet intensity in his glances, but he'd never spoken, and as a girl, she couldn't bridge that gap first. For now, she offered only a glance, a silent wish for his triumph in the exam ahead.
David met her gaze, his heart steady, a quiet resolve anchoring him. Today was the first step—a chance to prove his worth, to defy Alex's threats, and to carve a path toward the life he'd been reborn to claim.