After Tyra's meeting with her advisor, she was assigned a room on one of the lower floors of the Wave Hunter's organization. Student living occupied floors 6 through 19.
Escorted to her room as evening rolled in, Tyra couldn't believe how exquisite it was. Calling it a dormitory was far more than an understatement, as her room functioned more like a small penthouse. They had taken her from her home without so much as letting her pack. But why would she need to do such a thing when clothing, amenities only the rich could afford and so much more were now her reward?
You know…maybe being a glorified dead body has its perks, she thought.
Before her escorts left her, one of them spoke, "Dinner will be at 8, Mrs. Clair. It will be held on the third floor, and all should be in attendance. The one of the Seven Lords will address you there."
There's that stupid Lord thing again…I know they awoke first before all of us, but what even makes them so special? Tyra thought in a huff, turning away from the two. "Yeah, I'll get there when I get there."
The escorts left Tyra to her devices, as she explored her new room. Couches were lined up before a grand television as her toes felt the soft, warm nature of the carpet across the floor. An open-concept kitchen was nearby towards the back with hallways that led further behind to a staircase that went to her lavish bedroom that could be seen from below.
The place was a marvel—a heaven on earth.
Upon checking her bedroom, a walk-in closet was next to the bed. It was full of the same attire she had seen other students wearing, jump suit-like clothing hanging from every coat-hanger.
"So they couldn't at least put some regular clothing in here to wear? What if I don't want to wear something that soon reminds me of the looming hell I'm going to be going through?"
As she complained, a bright light flashed from the wardrobe's back wall over her eye, granting her access to all the fashion she could ever desire.
"Or…they already thought of that. So that's why they scanned my eyes—makes sense now."
They had also scanned her birthmark before taking her to the room. Mr. Harr had said every Periodic's birthmark was unique, like a fingerprint for their existence. But when their Periodic Systems were awakened, the birthmarks would naturally change their shape to be more in-lined with their affinity—or element—tied to their system.
Pulling out her phone to check the time, Tyra saw it was about 7:00. She was about to put it away, before a message caught her eye. Many of her friends had been sending messages to see if she was okay, but Armaros's message—that was the true one that made her pause. She overlooked it so many times, not out of the want to forget him. If she responded to him, the questions and talk about her being a periodic would only break Armaros's heart, and hurt her own in the process.
Armaros…I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't face you, and I'm sorry I was the one to have this and not you. I'll do my best for the both of us.
Stepping out of the wardrobe, Tyra quickly made her way out of her apartment. She didn't care about going an hour earlier; anything to get her to think less about her boyfriend was better than being there.
She exited the room with a slam of the door behind her.
********
In the dining area on floor 3, a large hall for mass congregation was built. Numerous tables fit for kings and queens ran across the room, food from every walk of life present for the students to eat. As all the students were the same rank at this point, being that of Rooks, no class distinctions were made at each table. They were free to sit around and near whomever they pleased.
Tyra sat around the table that held the fewest students, seated near the entrance and far back from the grand stage at the other end. Her suspicion was that if one of the Seven Lords was in procession today, if not appearing through a televised display, the last thing she would want is to be near the front. A demonstration might occur, possibly requiring a student's selection. She hoped this wouldn't happen to her, remembering the times when she or Armaros had been chosen for such a thing in their high school classes.
She absolutely hated it.
While the hall was lively with feasting and chattering, some students seemed frozen in a limbo-like state. Their eyes would glow different colors, but each hue seemed to match the dye that the birthmarks on their neck glowed with as well. Tyra still had yet to learn how to access her system like them. She had been promised by Mr. Harr to learn how to do so over the next coming days
Tyra was curious how they accessed it, but she stayed quiet to avoid drawing attention to herself.
What even is the point of looking at our systems? Didn't we all just awaken today? It's not like anything too important should be displayed for us to know yet, right?
Just as more thoughts encroached on her mind, a massive projector slowly descended from the ceiling. To the far back, it released a multicolored beam that travelled over the heads of the students, commanding their attention like a Bifrost of Norse origin.
Upon striking the back wall, the image of a man's bedroom—red, dark and lit only by a few candles—appeared before the students. It was so lifelike and realistic that one could have sworn the bedroom had teleported onto the stage.
On the bed, resting against the bedrest, was a man with wild–orange reddish hair. His eyes were domineering, jovial and hell-red in his irises; this matched his large red necklace around his neck, that hung over his shirtless form. His skin was slightly tanned, still near white like Tyra. He wore close-fitting long white pants that were red at the edges with streaks of red cloth hanging freely from the seams.
"So! You're the new class of Periodics for this age!" The man said, boisterous and arrogant, louder than he truly needed to be as his voice seemed to be enhanced by an unseen microphone. "I don't think I've seen a more pitiful group of people in my whole life!"
Is that—that can't be the Lord, right? He seems way too vulgar to be something like that, Tyra thought.
His laugh caused many to stir in annoyance at his proclamation, but soon thereafter he softened his tone. "For the moment, you all are. But do not fret; this is why yours truly and the wonderful people of the Wave Hunter's association are here to make you a little…less pitiful."
I have a feeling I'm gonna hate this guy. Tyra continued, before a bit of commotion drummed up.
One student had stood up and pointed to the man, shouting across the length of the hall, "He's a level 25. That guy's level 25 already!"
The other students then turned back to the man, who simply laughed at the proclamation of his grandeur. All the other students were not even at level 2 yet, since they had just awakened that day. For him to be level 25 even with a one-month head start was absurd to think of, many checking this for themselves to see if this was the truth.
"Indeed I am small fry; it is not what we Lords are meant to be. We lead so you may follow, trailblazers so you may have a chance of attaining a status near to us." The man continued until his tone became startlingly serious. "But also to stave off the horrors that will soon come. Five months from now, you all will either be gods among men, or dead bodies upon a mountain of others. The time for true dedication begins now."
Tyra felt a small tremor run through her body, as those around seemed to feel the same.
"You all will have the opportunity I had to attain such a high status. The only people stopping you from attaining it will be yourselves." The man said, standing from his bed, as his hair swayed with embers of battle. "As your Lord, Lord Darian, one of the Seven meant to lead Humanity against the First Wave and ninetieth more to come, I grant you full reign to take your destiny into your own hands. So feast and be joyful, this will be the last day to be as such."
The feed then cut out, leaving all the students aghast at the statement he had made. Many like Tyra had been told of the stakes that came with being a Periodic; far be it was this life to be sunshine and rainbows. But something about his command to them, or his serious sincerity not to withhold a shred of truth, was lingering in the air and made many feel uneasy.
Tyra felt such a thing, and it crashed over her like a flood. What if she was too far head over heels into believing she could even learn how to survive? Learn to raise a sword or even hold a stringed bow? In that moment, she truly had only two options: become the dead body she thought many like herself would become, or put her nose to the grindstone regardless of how backbreaking it would be.
Left with her thoughts as others tried to go back to eating, Tyra didn't so much as eat even a bread crumb. She left the dining hall that night, resolved to do anything it took to survive and become strong.
********
Months had passed since Armaros last had seen his girlfriend, and each passing day continued to seem oddly more—static. News about the First Wave's arrival was drawing closer by the day, and everyone was talking about it. After Tyra's disappearance, many had talked about seeing her sporadically on TV during this time. Even knowing these were just rumors, he checked a few of them for himself with no results to show.
His classes felt emptier, quieter and dull. Most of the time it was like he couldn't hear the teacher's words, or even the talks and gossip of other students. His friends, who were also friends of Tyra, no longer saw him around their lunch tables or even hangout sessions. Everything had stopped in his life; his grades and social status were following suit.
While Tyra was away, training, fighting and discovering her way in a new world that commanded greatness from every person, he was languishing in the despair that came with the absence of a loved one.
He shut himself in his shabby apartment, which was relatively clean, yet always dark and dreary. He would lie in his bed all day and night, wishing not so much to be a Periodic anymore, but just to see her again. A time or two he pulled his phone to view a few pictures of them—all of them were taken at Tyra's behest. A chuckle, then a cry would come right after, and not even his love for reading manga or webnovels could draw him out of his despair.
Why…why couldn't I be like her? Why can't I still be with her? Armaros thought, crying and slowly drifting off to his sleep.
In the back, a reporter from a news channel claimed there were only 3 weeks left until the first wave. He hadn't gotten a chance to live out the fantasies he dreamed of. His girlfriend—the one who once jeered him—had taken them instead.
And powerless to change fate, his despair finally gave him ease so sleep may take him. But as his deep sleep set in, a chime-like phone notification rang in his ears.
[Spirit of a Human, the System chooses you as its final champion!]