Libert: Failure

In the 1940s, two scientists became bewildered by a mind-bending discovery.

"People… they're evolving," A tremor was evident in the scientist's voice as he faces his partner.

"What the fu-"

At that moment when the trajectory of history shifted, the world became fixated on the mystery of portals and the existence of the void…

The balance of society instantly changed as the power became more influential.

The world order suffered a severe collapse as old countries became replaced by new ones.

The day was later referred to as the "Cataclysm".

———

A sense of anticipation hung in the air as the young teenager, his jet-black hair falling in loose waves around his face, stood in the cramped office of the school administrator.

The room itself was a microcosm of the administrative chaos, cluttered with filing cabinets and stacks of papers, while the walls proudly displayed the administrator's numerous diplomas, a testament to his years of service and dedication.

The teenager's eyes were immediately drawn to the impressive array of achievements, his gaze wandering over the framed certificates that adorned the walls.

The administrator, a middle-aged man with a weariness etched upon his face, shifted his gaze from the diplomas to the middle-aged woman sitting across from him. He cleared his throat before speaking, his voice carrying a tinge of resignation.

"Your son is eligible for an advanced entry exam," the administrator announced, breaking the silence that had hung heavily in the room. His eyes briefly flickered toward the young adolescent, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and expectation.

The mother's eyes swerved towards her son, a mixture of relief and frustration evident in her gaze. "Thank God," she murmured, her voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion.

A wry smile played at the corners of her lips as she continued, "Raising him was quite the hassle."

The administrator's expression tightened as he continued with a note of caution. "We may not be able to cover the entire cost for the exam due to the lack of funding and these new budget cuts," he explained, his tone laced with a touch of annoyance.

The reality of financial constraints weighed heavily on his words, and he found himself struggling to provide the support they both deserved.

The mother's relief quickly transformed into a panic. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward in her chair, desperation seeping into her voice.

"B-but we don't have that type of money," she protested, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief.

The enormity of the situation began to sink in, and she struggled to accept the harsh reality they were faced with.

The administrator sighed, the weariness in his eyes reflecting the weight of his responsibilities.

"Nor does the school or the district," he replied, his voice tinged with a sense of resignation. "But congratulations to your child," he added, a genuine pride shining through his words.

Despite the financial obstacles, he recognized the potential and talent within the young student.

The young adolescent, his anxiety evident, muttered a quiet "thank you," his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt the weight of his mother's frantic gaze and the burden of financial constraints settling heavily on his shoulders.

At that moment, he realized the magnitude of the opportunity before him and the challenges they would need to overcome together.

The mother's frantic expression transformed into one of anger and frustration as she turned her resentful eyes toward her son. "So, how much can you pay?" she demanded, her tone laden with irritation.

Her frustration, fueled by the mounting pressure, threatened to consume her composure.

"Mrs. Nexus, I can't provide any promises, but we'll do the best we can," the administrator replied, his voice laced with empathy.

He adjusted his glasses, his gesture reflecting a genuine desire to help despite the constraints they faced. He understood the sacrifices families had to make for their children's education.

"The government just wants us to give up all of our savings for just a test!" the middle-aged woman exclaimed, her frustration reaching its boiling point. Her voice reverberated with a sense of injustice and helplessness as if she were a lone voice struggling against an indifferent system.

"I think this conversation has come to an end," the administrator interjected, his tone final.

He began compiling the scattered papers on his desk and organizing them into neat piles, a symbol of his attempt to regain control over the situation.

The atmosphere in the office grew tense as the mother and son exchanged glances, uncertainty, and disappointment written across their faces.

Before either of them could react, a sudden surge of energy engulfed the room, crackling in the air like electricity.

The mother and son exchanged bewildered looks as the familiar office transformed before their eyes. Colors swirled and danced, blending and distorting the space around them.

In an instant, the cramped office faded away, replaced by an entirely new environment. They found themselves standing in an empty hallway, disoriented but intrigued by their unexpected teleportation.

The walls were adorned with lockers, each one displaying stickers and graffiti, bearing witness to the vibrant and diverse student body that once filled these corridors.

The young teenager's gaze darted around, searching for answers, until his attention was captured by a portal shimmering with intense blue light.

It swirled and pulsed with otherworldly energy, beckoning him to explore its mysterious depths. A mix of curiosity and trepidation coursed through his veins as he contemplated the possibilities that lay beyond.

"Shi*," Mrs. Nexus cursed under her breath, a mix of emotions coursing through her. She quickly realized they had been teleported against their will, her frustration boiling over. She took a step toward the portal, determined to confront their unexpected predicament.

But before she could take another step, the portal vanished like a wisp of smoke, leaving them standing in an empty hallway.

The abrupt disappearance of the portal left the mother feeling frustrated and powerless.

"Dammit!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with resentment. "How many times have I told you not to speak when I'm talking to an adult?" Her anger was redirected towards her son, who stood before her, shrinking under her piercing gaze.

"I-I was j-just saying a th-thank you," the son stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and hurt. He struggled to find the right words, his mind clouded by the weight of his mother's disapproval.

"I don't give a fu*k," the mother snapped, her tone laced with venom. "You talk when I tell you to." Her words pierced through the air, leaving the son feeling small and insignificant.

"Yes, ma'am," the teenager replied meekly, his voice barely audible. He averted his gaze, unable to meet his mother's eyes, as he contemplated the unfairness of their situation.

Silently, the mother and son walked through the empty hallways, the only sound being the echo of their footsteps.

The walls were lined with lockers, each one adorned with stickers and graffiti, a testament to the vibrant and diverse student body that once filled these corridors.

Memories of the past middle school years flickered through the young boy's mind, the laughter and camaraderie contrasting sharply with the strained silence between him and his mother.

"Get into the car," the mother commanded, her tone authoritative. They reached the exit of the school, stepping out into the outside world. The sky overhead was gray and overcast, mirroring the heaviness that enveloped them.

As they walked towards their car, the mother's footsteps echoed with determination, while the son trailed behind, his shoulders slumped.

The weight of his mother's expectations and the constant need to conform to her wishes bore down on him, suffocating his spirit.

In the car, the silence continued to linger, each passing minute amplifying the growing divide between mother and son. The roads stretched out ahead, a labyrinth of possibilities and uncertainties.

The young teen glanced out of the window, his eyes scanning the passing scenery, searching for any sign of escape or solace. The monotonous buildings and busy streets blended into a blur, mirroring the confusion and turmoil within his mind.

The stillness and serenity remained for the entirety of the car ride, the only words that were uttered into the atmosphere were relentless complaints from a middle-aged woman as the suspension creaked and groaned with every bump in the road.

After the elongated moment of silence, the mother-son duo reached their destination.

"Porta Serf Subway Station," the young adolescent read the sign under his breath.

"What," his mother asked with a distinctive tone that would be associated with someone annoyed.

"N-nothing," he responded as they walked down the steps to the entrance of the subway

The subway station was a bustling hub of activity, a place where people from all walks of life converged. The air was thick with the sounds of footsteps, chatter, and the screech of steel on steel as trains rushed in and out.

The mother and son walked toward the station gates, paid as usual, and continued on their way.

They came to an abrupt stop, "Wait on that bench over there, I have to make a call," the son turned to face the direction his mother pointed towards.

The son quickly obeyed his mother's directions in fear of the consequences. The boredom-ridden teenager began to survey his vicinity; the air was thick with the sounds of footsteps, chatter, and the screech of steel on steel as trains rushed in and out. But a slight detail appealed to him.

The detail was difficult to grasp, an emotion, but not an emotion, a belief, but at the same time, not a belief.

It came from a particular direction, it was as if he could accurately locate the source of this phenomenon. The boy rose from the bench, but his mother appeared before he could take a step.

"You ready?" the mother asked, but this time her tone contained more anger than bitterness.

"Y-yes." the teenagers responded with a perplexed expression, due to the sensation's sudden disappearance.

The pair boarded the subway, and the son chose the farthest seat from his mother.

The phenomenon appeared once again

However, this time it was more potent, more concentrated, and it felt closer...

As the sensation became more and more close, the boy entered a state of tension and anxiety. Every sound became amplified, every movement scrutinized. The air is thick with the sense that something is about to happen, but no one knows what.

It continued to escalate, then it arrived at its peak.

"You mind if I sit here," a grisly and ghastly voice awoke the frantic teenager from his frenzy.

"U-uh yeah," the boy responded with a bewildered expression.

The sensation soon returned, but it felt as if it was located right next to him.

The agitated teen twisted his head to the side slightly, in hopes of not arousing suspicion. His gaze met the eyes of a man that had been through many years.

This was the source. He could feel it.

"You okay?" the worst possibility occurred, he had arose the man's suspicion.

"Y-yeah, I'm g-good," the boy uttered anxiously, he capitalized on the opportunity to survey his appearance

The ancient man had a face that was etched with deep lines, betraying the many years he had lived.

He wore a simple, black tuxedo, that was accompanied by his pure white hair.

His eyes were kind and gentle, and his voice was soft and soothing, like a warm blanket on a cold night.

"You're sweating bullets," the elder's voice was as if it had surpassed the threshold of time.

"Y-yeah," the teenager felt a heavy drop of sweat fall from his chin.

"Well, do you have a name?" the old man darted his eyes elsewhere as he broke his eye contact, to reduce the tension.

"I-it's Li-Libert," the sound of the pounding of the young man's heart quickly overlaps his response.

"My name's Mr. Xavier, it's nice to meet you," he offered his hand for a handshake.

"You t-too," after recognizing he was not a threat, Libert accepted his offer of a handshake.

"Are you mundane?" the tension began to rapidly decrease due to Mr. Xavier's soothing tone.

"Y-yeah," Libert's voice stumbled, "H-how did you kn-know".

The ancient man pointed at his multicolored eye, "I have a good eye," the complexity of Mr. Xavier made it hard for Libert to digest the situation, "to lack the ability to produce a functional portal".

The man's directionless eyes looked up to face the train's metal roof, "A genetic disease that affects less than one percent of the population".

"D-do you h-have it," Libert asked out of curiosity.

"Haha, no, no—it's just I've only met one other person like you," Mr. Xavier released a spirited chuckle.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, the Porta train will be departing in a minute, please remain seated," a stern voice conveyed through a speaker.

"Well, I guess it's go time".

"Y-yah," the boy spoke under his breath.