Chapter 2: Chosen

Placing his hands upon the aureate purpleheart wood door, a sense of unreasonable foreboding slowly blossomed within the heart of the youth, its existence there unknown even to the teen himself. However, such seed would only be fertilised by the slow creaking of the usually oiled structure, its hinges turned, releasing a macabre growl as if warning the inhabitants of the presence of the youth who seemed dead set on impregnating its shielded garden.

Such dissonant sound echoed freely amidst the grandiose corridor, cast back in a sacrilegious tone that grated upon Eros's veiled ears. Still, he chose to ignore such apparent pleas to retreat and instead pushed ever forwards in his instinctual endeavour until the moment such barricade no longer existed before his presence but instead lay defeated by the wayside, only allowed to revive upon the youths departure into its godless land, for what greeted the sight of a boy was a scene that could be described as a far cry to the heavenly corridor from once he returned though one he had become forcibly accustomed to throughout his time at Enuma Esper academy.

The atmosphere in the land could only be described as melancholic, elegiac and oppressive, filled with occupants that had all but given up hope on ever escaping such dire straits that they found themselves in. It was a room without god nor belief, decadent to the most extreme degree, for the walls that should have shared the same church-like drab stone of its neighbour were encased in a thick cover of putrescent oak, the ceiling was arched. However, its height did not encapsulate nor fill one with the same reverence that the cathedral-like couloir accomplished. Instead, it embodied the misery of never being able to reach such heights, to forever remain the lowest.

The land was relatively spacious, though such was every room in the esteemed school being able to effortlessly accommodate a mass of at most 60 people, though, in current times, it served to house about 10. No incandescent bulb nor beaming light bore courtesy to illuminate such a desolate plane, instead leaving such a notion to the will of the gods to decide through the apostle of a multitude of sealed pestilence-ridden windows.

A collective of shoddily crafted desks filled the otherwise derelict godforsaken land, all of which bore a throng of flaws, from minor cracks that contorted the face of such otherwise sturdy objects to missing limbs that would forever go without repair. Yet, despite such atrocious conditions, the land remained inhabited by a populace of ten, the students that made up class 1-F.

As the name would suggest, the class was the lowest for the year, sporting all the espers bearing the forced title of F rank. It was a land dominated by males. In fact, they were the sole sex to inhabit the dreadful domain, from the teacher to the myriad students that lined the sporadically placed desks dressed in the same drapes as the youth bearing the ability of "Partial Analysis."

It was a hell, no, it wasn't a hell, at least in hell, one could throw away whatever hope they had, to know that their fate was decided from the moment they arrived at those brimstone gates bearing the sign "abandon hope all ye who enter here," this was a purgatory, one that served solely to torture the living livestock that was the breed of male espers, tempting them with the false hope of escape by being indoctrinated into a class of a suitor.

Many glances befell Eros's languid body, their gazes piercing, ill-disposed and malignant. There was evident repulsion to the youth's existence, one that ran too deep to have just suddenly appeared. No, it had been refined over the countless months spent in his presence and the natural ill-borne will that came with such action. They followed him, trekking his every movement as he meandered across the stage they set, his every motion an infuriating testament to his existence they were forced to bear witness, until eventually, Eros came to a stop by one particularly decomposed structure, a creation that should have been no different to his peers yet one that lay tortured and desecrated before his chocolate brown gaze.

Thick scars littered the bland wooden creation's face, carved by a multitude of blades. Some could be apprehended, leaving statements regarding the youth's life and the desire they held for him to simply disregard it. In contrast, others cursed his very existence and the lacklustre gift he possessed, yet, despite the heterogeneity of such wishes, their origin was birthed from the same sentiment of envy, one that unanimously spread not only throughout the melancholic class but through every male that attended the school.

However, such feelings of anguish did not hold root within Eros's mind. He was used to such a thing by now. He remained apathetic to their wiles and merely took his seat that thankfully remained unimpaired.

Immediately upon his placement, noise resumed in the formerly quiescent domain, from hushed whispers that grated upon his ears to a booming cough that made all fall hush, for before such congregated mass existed a being of utmost reverence, the god of the land, the governor of their lives, a teacher, one adorned in the most bespangled gold drapes, from a cloak that listlessly brushed against the comparatively clean floor of the disconsolate land, to what appeared to be a cane adorned in such vibrant jewels of diamond and ruby, yet, despite the apparent affluence of the pedagogue one thing remained that they shared in common with the coagulation of defunct espers, that being their sex, for even bearing all the wealth in the world such a tutor was a male, and thus only fit to educate those of their ability.

"*Cough**Cough* Now that we're all gathered and seated," The man stated, sending a leer at the new arrival who could do little more than accept such volatile treatment with a forced smile. "I have an announcement to make regarding the students for this month's dungeon training," He continued, at which point the severity of the gazes befalling Eros's form shifted from that of interpreted hostility to undeniable murderous rancour.

Yet, even such acrimony for the youth was comparatively low when put against the ambience that now infested the once mournful land. The sensation of anguish, apprehension, trepidation and underlying dread was suffocating. The room felt cold to all he lay within its supposedly holy womb. Such a sight, however, wasn't anything new to the youth who lay observing the act. It repeated regularly with every announcement regarding the dungeon, yet, different from before, the sense of unease left to brew within Eros's stomach would soon blossom as a sense of botheration fluttered within his now queasy stomach.

"That being their names, as you all should know, today is the set date for such a journey, so, without further ado, may I request those called to stand…And please, don't try to run. It will only lead to unnecessary injury," The disciplinarian called, his voice oddly sympathetic to his students, for he knew the pain that awaited them, the trials they would have to bear, and the inevitable sacrifices that would be made.

Pulling out a folded sheet of paper stamped with the same emblem that adorned the pounding hearts of the gathered students, the frivolously dressed man began to list four names. With each one called, the students would stand, however, their figure was not bold nor courageous, but the very epitome of cowardly and fearful, as though experienced with the horrors that lay in store, yet even through such heavy-handed depression one thing remained unchanged if not in fact bolstered to new heights, that being the hatred they held for the youth who sat listlessly atop his cracked wooden throne, to those selected the teen bearing the name Eros deserved nothing more than utmost envy.

Each alias that left the supposedly wisened man's lips only called forth suspense, to the point where even the most minute of movements spare for the soft chattering of teeth and slow dripping of bloodied palms could be heard in the form of a unanimous drumming heartbeat. No one wished to be named, for their title to spill from the teacher's lips, for all they cared, such words were a death sentence, a hell they never wished to return to and yet, one they would be forced to venture through time and time again.

After the fourth name was called, the domain fell completely silent, without even the pounding of a heart to be heard. It was as though the realm that previously festered with hatred and resentment, vile signs of life, had been replaced by a necropolis where only those long since departed remained. They had escaped their supposed rapture, left to live another day, yet, their god appeared to eye the sheet with a gaze of bemusement, for unknown to all, he was not done. There was still one name left, that of a boy who had never been selected for such a task before, one all believed to be immune to such mutiny.

"Eros," The man stated as the world around the youth fell deaf.