"Well, looks like my hard work is paying off."
I remember the day the results went up like it was etched into the very walls of that stuffy auditorium.
The grand board loomed over us all, a wall of names and scores glowing under the harsh fluorescent lights, and there it was—right at the top, in bold letters.
Mesmer Valentine, 100 out of 100 score on every subject.
Perfect, and unbeatable on an inter-districts level, at the mere age of fifteen.
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might crack a rib, but I stood there frozen, staring at my own name as if it were some impossible dream I'd borrowed from someone else.
Around me, the murmurs swelled into a chaotic noise, voices overlapping in a messy radio theater.
"Oh man, not even close—keep looking, it's gotta be there somewhere..."
"Ha! Look at you, telekinesis freak, top of the Ego charts but bottom of the board! Lift the exam score with your mind next time, will you?"
"Screw you, at least I have a bright future, unlike you Egoless prick!"
"Sheesh, you don't need to be that harsh."
"Man, the national exam sucks, who the hell thought that blasting us with every conceivable subject and materials in the span of a week is a good idea?"
"They might as well should call it a world exam or something, considering that we only have one nation in the world."
"Like seriously, who needs algebra when you can punch through walls?"
"You know that not all jobs consist of destroying things, right?"
"Not if you're part of the Heroes of the World, heh."
Not many really praised nor even utter my name despite this glorious achievement.
Well, I guess it was given that exam scores didn't matter as much when superhuman and supernatural exist in this world.
"Those fools are always like this."
Athera, the single ruling nation of Earth, was consisted of 128 Districts with their respective District Lords.
This meant that I was technically the number one top-scorer in the world in my generation.
The scoreboard that these students and I were witnessing was erected on every high school on every Districts, yet the significance of it pales in comparison to the innate worth of power that was widely obtainable for those that were lucky or blessed by fate itself.
"Man, these scores can suck my ass!" A student could be seen giving their middle finger to the innocent scoreboard. "I awakened my Ego just a week ago, these numbers are ultimately meaningless!"
Ego, the extension of one's self-worth, and their extension of will to apply a new rule reality that they can apply to themselves, environments, and other living beings.
To put it simply, they were superpower that could be acquired at random time, random reason, and random people.
The power acquired was also random to an extent, but research found that the majority of Ego mirror the conscience heart and personality of their wielder.
If only I lived in a world where those things didn't exist, I could have reached the apex of the world with enough effort.
Amidst my self-esteem management, 'she' appeared, weaving through the crowd with that easy grin of hers, the kind that said she owned the whole chaotic scene.
"Well, look at you, Mesmer—the genius who's going to shake the world," she said, nudging my arm hard enough to jolt me out of my daze.
I felt heat flood my cheeks, and I swatted her hand away, trying to play it cool even as my face betrayed me.
"Moron," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Firstly, I'm a textbook genius, not a normal genius. I'm immensely good at structured education and study, while being a genius mean that you possess high-level creativity and intuition. It is different...
"Also! Being a genius isn't enough to shake the entire world. You'd need more than test scores for that!"
"Eh, you kept skipping year like a genius in the end, sound like the same to me."
Another friend sidled up beside her, peering at the board with wide eyes before turning to me. "So, are you still planning to go for Hero Academy?"
My pulse quickened again, but this time it was excitement, pure and electric.
I straightened up, nodding vigorously.
"Absolutely! My Ego might not have awakened yet—who knows why—but that doesn't mean I'm out. I can make up for the lack of innate gifts or physical strength with pure brainpower. Somehow. There has to be a way, no?"
They both burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrelenting, drawing a few glances our way.
"Oh, come on," the first one managed between gasps. "You know almost no Non-Egoists make it into any Hero Academy. It's like applying to join the gods with a library card."
I planted my hands on my hips, chin lifting in defiance. "Hey, you're talking to this world's sole nation number one here. The least you could do is have a little faith in me!"
She wiped at her eyes, still chuckling. "Fine, fine. But maybe try gaining some height first. Wouldn't want them mistaking you for the mascot."
"Mascot is also fine! My cuteness is also my forte, I'll take all the chances I can get!"
"Aww, let me squish your cheeks again, now that you're trying to act cute again~!"
"Gah! Unhand me this instance, evildoer!"
I was so hopeful back then, so bright and naive.
Back then, I still had the full sight of the sky—a vast, endless blue that stretched out like a promise, so beautiful it filled my head with visions of things that felt just out of reach, far-fetched dreams of heroism and discovery that seemed almost real under that light.
In the end, though, none of it came to pass.
After graduation on the very same year, I didn't manifest an Ego, and the rejections piled up from every Hero Academy I applied to, even the one just a bus ride from my apartment.
Maybe me becoming the number one scorer was nothing but a fluke.
"This sucks…"
Searching for a job was just as hard without having any credentials nowadays.
My teachers' recommendation barely did anything either, since Ego-wielder were prioritized than an underaged graduate who didn't possess an Ego.
Seriously, not only that 'only' Ego-wielders could apply to a Hero Academy, those who didn't get into one, still had the privilege to dominate at the job-hunting world.
And it wasn't like I had any actual connection.
My mother was a shameless gold-digger and my father was a gambling addict, a pair of scums that was matched in heaven. That alone should be enough why I didn't want anything to do with them.
However, I have three sisters and a brother, but I also didn't want to stay connected with them.
It wasn't like I hate them or anything, we just decided that it was best for each of us to carve our own path, unbothered by each other.
"Being too prideful is a sin, I see."
After two years of not achieving anything, my self esteem plummeted beyond the abyss—and I couldn't muster any courage to interact with any of my friends.
I felt lonely, and hopeless, as the creeping anxiety lodged itself eternally into the crevice of my fool's gold heart.
In the end, I pivoted, grabbing a full scholarship that was once offered for me, which then I applied for journalism and cramming in every course I could handle—ethics, investigative techniques, international affairs, all sort of topic, you name it.
Of course, as a textbook genius, it didn't take me long to get a Bachelor's degree. In fact, I was already aiming for a Master's degree while working on the field.
Unfortunately, this was not a very big deal?
In a world where some people awakened their gifted power the moment they were born, conjuring fire, or even performing math equations as a baby—being genius was not the highest ceiling.
Sure, I might be an anomaly for an average human, but the average human was not even the average.
It felt depressing, in a way.
I didn't like all of the possible careers outside of the things related to the Heroes of the World, but beggar can't be a chooser.
After all, the very reason why I chose journalism was because of the off-chance to meet and interact with the Heroes.
However, I turned out to excel greatly in this industry, not just in educational progression.
By twenty-one, I was already carving out a name for myself as one of the best in the field for my generation, Ego or no Ego.
That was years ago, of course.
Now I'm in my twenty-two of age, and journalism was still my bread and butter to survive in this world.
Speaking of survival…
"Hueh…? Weh…!"
I was jolted awake in the dim glow of my hotel room.
The red digits on the clock searing into my bleary vision, 6:07 a.m.
Panic hit like cold water. I was up in an instant, scrambling out of the tangled sheets, yanking on yesterday's blouse and slacks without a second thought—no time for breakfast, no shower, nothing but the frantic knotting of my shoes.
"I hadn't slept for five days before hitting the bed, it makes sense that five alarms didn't wake me up…"
Today was the day.
The 'the' interview.
I pulled every string, cashed in every favor, to land a sit-down with one of the most pivotal figures at Odysseus Academy—one of the top five Hero Academies worldwide.
This person wasn't just influential; they outranked governing figures, District Lords, Heroes of Noble Families, anyone with a title and a podium.
Their words could shift global alliances, rewrite the rules of what it meant to be "gifted."
Pleasing this person should also be equally as important.
As such, being late to the meeting place would do nothing but harm my reputation!
I paused at the full-length mirror by the door, just for a beat, taking in the woman staring back.
"Heh, look at you."
A hopeless romantic at heart, barely scraping 150 centimeters in height, with a short dark-colored bob that framed my face like an afterthought—nothing striking, nothing that screamed "main character" in a planet crawling with superhumans and supernaturals.
I'd blend into any crowd, just another average face in the background of all that glory.
That would be the case, of course, if it wasn't for the eyepatch over my right eye.
My fingers drifted up, brushing the edge of it out of habit, feeling the empty socket beneath—smooth scar tissue where something vital used to be.
I smirked at my reflection, a wry twist that didn't quite reach the ache underneath.
"The One-Eyed Messenger From Hell," I chuckled at my own title. "Such an exaggeration."
Back in my rookie days, I was so ambitious that it bordered on recklessness.
I'd shoved myself straight into an active warzone and all sorts of hazardous treasure trove, chasing the story that would make my name.
I almost lost everything in the process, with my eye being one of them.
But here I was, still standing, still striving, and reckless as ever.
"Enough with the nostalgia..."
I shook it off, grabbed my 'tools', my trusty holographic typewriter, camera, recorder, and bolted out the door.
The hotel lobby blurred past in a rush of polished marble and early-morning staff, and I burst onto the street, scanning for a taxi.
The air felt thick, charged, like the prelude to a storm.
I raised my arm, willing one to appear.
"Imagine if my Ego awakened all of the sudden."
That would be great.
Not that it would happen.
"Uhhh…"
But then I saw it.
The sky, which had been a flat gray at dawn, was dimming further, shadows pooling unnaturally fast.
High above the city skyline, something impossible unfurled—a massive, supernatural whirlpool, inverted and roiling upside down, its edges crackling with otherworldly light as it hung there, devouring the horizon.
"Uh oh."