Overly Explicit Parallels

Mark's blood cooled as he made the lone walk down the arena tunnel. His anger didn't fade, but it no longer controlled him.

'Fuck… I think I went overboard.'

Overboard was an understatement. After that display, no one would ever ignore him again.

No matter what any fool on the internet tried to argue, all publicity was not good publicity.

Now Mark was public enemy number one.

Students would either try and call his bluff and challenge him to more duels—which he didn't want—or they would embargo him like the plague. Others were valuable resources, and barring himself from that wasn't the smartest of moves.

Though it wasn't all bad; no doubt those in Class 1-A could care less about his antics. They understood power better than the rest.

'Damn, that felt good...'

Hurting people never felt good in his past life. That was the workings of choice.

When Mark blew someone up on Earth, he regretted it. He understood that the enemy wasn't his enemy. They were simply two young and poor men pitted against each other by the old and wealthy.

Making an example out of Dawson was a choice that Mark made. When he looked back at it, he felt no regret.

Having a choice was a far greater thrill than the adrenaline rush he got from beating Dawson.

This was the real beginning; his first choice, his first step toward the life he wanted to live.

End's involvement with the Emergency Quest had nothing to do with it. But on the topic of End, what did he get out of handing that quest out?

'Sure, it allows him to give me a nice care package, but beyond that. Why would he specifically tell me to piss off everyone else?'

End wanted him to be strong. Mark felt pretty confident in the presumption that the quest was about pressure. He wanted to put pressure on Mark.

Pressure would lead to Mark getting more desperate for power.

'Nice try, but this is my path. My body, my choice. That means my own pace.'

VRRRRT…

Mark's watch vibrated as he walked down the dark tunnel. He tapped the screen—a blue holographic projection appearing in the darkness.

===================

To: Mark di Abbott

Kolzig-Bondra has fined you 10 Gold for violating school policy. Please ensure that you pay within the next week. The fine will double for each week the fine goes unpaid.

→ More information

===================

'On second thought, looks like I do need to pick up the pace…'

The Academy, for obvious reasons, did not take kindly to Mark's brutal antics. No, despite mortal wounding being allowed, parading around the battered body of your fellow student for all to see was not permitted.

Fortunately for Mark, it was just a fine—a slap on the wrist—and not grounds for expulsion. Well, a fine would be a slap on the wrist for just about any other noble.

Mark was broke. He had to make the money required, not only to live life but enough to hire that lawyer, along with this fine.

But thankfully, that display should've made everything clear to Ranni:

Mark was more than worthy of top-tier Guild attention.

Establishing himself as a force within Class 1-A would inevitably garner tons of attention from Guilds looking to bolster their forces with Academy talent.

Dawson Reaves was no small fry. But had he been anything else other than a mage, he may have had a chance against Mark.

If Mark beat a top prospect for a Marquis-level Guild and hardly broke a sweat, there was no doubt that he was worthy for significant consideration among the best.

Maybe not nearly enough for the first ranked Raymond Guild, but surely enough for the Luikots Guild—despite being only a single rank down.

Mark would wait to hear Ranni's answer tomorrow. Right now, he just had to get out of the public eye.

But first, he had to perform his obligation.

'Status.'

┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐

Name: Mark di Abbott

Age: 18

Race: Human

Class: Shredder of Weave

Title: End's Apostle

[Level: 12] Acolyte

◄ Strength: 6 - ◆─◇─◇─◇─◇ ► +1

◄ Vigor: 0 - ◆─◆─◆─◆─◇ ► +1

◄ Insight: 1 - ◆─◆─◇─◇─◇ ► +2

◄ Dexterity: 2 - ◇─◇─◇─◇─◇ ► +4

◄ Intelligence: 0 - ◇─◇─◇─◇─◇►

◄ Arcane: 0 - ◇─◇─◇─◇─◇ ►

◄ Faith: 0 - ◇─◇─◇─◇─◇ ►

◄ Charisma: 3 - ◆─◇─◇─◇─◇ ► +2

◄ Luck: 0 - ◆─◆─◆─◆─◇ ► +1

➥Unallocated Shards: 30

◃───***Skills***───▹

Skill: Hidden Hand → Grade: F

◃───***Arts***───▹

◃───***Affinities***───▹

◃───***Items***───▹

└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘

Now with his Strength close to maxed out, the bottleneck began to show. Punching a hole through a stone wall and beating the ever-living shit out of Dawson Reaves only netted 1 Shard.

Mark was pleased to see his Charisma and Dexterity go up. But on the other hand, he now understood how risky being a low-Vigor physical fighter was.

Had one of Dawson's spells connected, it would certainly end the fight—if not tear him in half on the spot.

'That's what the real ones call a Vigor Check.'

Now it was time for Mark to scurry off. He really wanted to take a shower, and then take a nap. All those emotions made him sleepy.

***

It had been a few hours since the shocking spectacle sent waves throughout Kolzig-Bondra. The entire first-year class knew about it. Word of mouth began to leak through to every second and third-year student, as well as the staff.

The disrespect of the barbaric escapade did nothing kind to the nobility's collective position on commoners.

It wasn't all bad; Mark had accomplished his goal—he obtained the respect and recognition required to stand comfortably among Class 1-A.

But the controversy he stirred put Ranni in a bit of a pickle. As such, she chose to seek the guidance of someone experienced, trusted, and especially perceptive.

…

"You've seen him," Ranni asked. "What did the Eye say?"

The platinum-haired girl sat atop Professor Everett's desk, dangling her stocking-covered legs, her swaying skirt now still.

Everett leaned back in her chair, taking a drag of a lit cigarette—much to Ranni's unsung displeasure.

"Nothing," she choked out with an exhale of smoke. "Which means he's either a total nobody or something special."

Ranni hopped off the desk, turning around to look straight at her long-time friend and close mentor.

"And which one do you think is more likely?"

"You're an adult now. I'm not going to hold your hand, make your own prediction," Everett shut down. "I think the answer is pretty obvious."

"Tsk," Ranni leaned over the desk as she clicked her teeth. "But at least tell me this. What made the Academy move him into Class 1-A?"

"Dunno, he did pretty well in the combat portion as a swordsman," Everett shrugged. "But the move to 1-A was the Principal's orders. You know how he operates."

'Weird. He didn't use a sword during the fight… what kind of rabbit hole am I getting into?' Ranni thought as she slumped along the desk with a sigh.

"Now beat it," Everett motioned, extinguishing her cigarette on her desk's pristine ashe tray. "You're killing my buzz on my break time."

Ranni rolled her eyes, stood up, said her goodbyes, and exited Everett's office.

Walking in the hallways, she silently debated with herself.

The Luikots Guild was built on consistency. They did everything solid and sturdy, ensuring that they maintained their place as the top Guild, second only to the Royal family's guild.

Second. She loathed that word. Always second to the Royal family. Her family may have been content, but Ranni was not.

When she looked at the rankings and saw herself behind Lucas Raymond, it instantly soured her mood—where others would feel pride, Ranni felt inadequacy.

To her, there was nothing admirable about flying under the radar, being content to suck up to the Royal family and their status.

Complacency was the nobility's undoing. That fact permeated even to Kolzig-Bondra—no longer the shining beacon of progress that it once was—at least, in her mind.

Ranni intended to change that. And she knew she had to take big risks if she wanted any chance of challenging the Royal family's dominance.

Though she recognized her issues, something irked her as she exercised the positives to admitting Mark to the Luikots Guild.

The issue was her own mentality. She had been forged in the crucible of consistency, born from her parents.

Their belief in safe bets had allowed them to be in power this long. And it wasn't a trait she could easily break.

What if she made a mistake? What if this horribly backfired?

As the heir, she would be responsible for the Guild's future. What if she destroyed it, all to satisfy her greedy ego? Her desire to be the best?

…

Ranni leaned up against the wall with a sigh. She rubbed her face in intense deliberation.

With straight eyes, she looked at the watch on her wrist.

==================

First-year Initial Rankings:

1st: Lucas Raymond

2nd: Ranni Luikots

…

==================

Her face scrunched at the sight. Anger washed over her indifferent face.