[Spirit of a Human, the System chooses you as its final champion!]
Upon hearing the words that played in his dreams all night, Armaros slowly awoke the following morning. Slivers of sunlight poured in through his window, causing him to blink several times until his eyes adjusted. But as he could see clearly and the world around him became less blurry, he noticed a dark blue hue clouded his vision, similar to a computer screen.
In the middle of the screen-like interface was the same message he had heard countless times in his dreams.
What? Did I sleep with my phone over my face again? Armaros thought, having a penchant for doing so when it came to looking over pictures of Tyra and himself.
Groggily, Armaros moved his hand to pull what he believed was his phone from his face. But soon enough, after feeling his palm slap squarely over his face, Armaros paused in realization. He turned one eye to the side of his nightstand to see the phone right beside him.
Wait…what? How is my phone over there, but…I am seeing something like a text message over my—
Immediately Armaros sat up, looking around the room, noticing that everything he looked at had a weird cerulean colour plastered over them. Not only that, but weird sigils—like divine ornaments—decorated the screen in the making of a rectangular frame.
Still in the middle of his vision was the text message, but it had continued with more text that appeared to be a part of the notification.
[The Grace of Divinity has chosen you! You are now a Periodic!]
Armaros froze in place, staring at the message for what felt like an eternity. In small increments, his eyes shifted from tired and downtrodden to brimming with happiness and jovial delight. He read over the message time and again to make sure he wasn't dreaming, then slapped himself across the face to be extra sure.
He wasn't asleep; he was awake. And the new notification before his eyes wasn't going anywhere.
I…I don't believe it. I thought after that day when all other Periodics were discovered that you couldn't become one anymore. Ha…HAHA!
He jumped out of his bed, giddy to continue reading the message on his screen. He then started looking at himself to see if anything had really changed. Unfortunately however, his body remained unchanged.
[You have been chosen to defend humanity. Prove to your fellow humans you are worthy of their praise. Or fall into obscurity, dying in irrelevance. The choice has been given to you.—From The One Unforgiven.]
The One Unforgiven? I've heard that name before. Some of the Periodics on TV have said his name before…is this who created the system?
The message then finally disappeared from Armaros's sight, leaving an interface before him with a symbol of a crow bound in chains at the center of his screen. From the crow mark in the center, four individual blue strings stretched outward in the four cardinal directions. They were attached to other similarly bound marks that were so chained up that seeing their symbol was utterly impossible.
At the top left of the UI-like interface was his name—Armaros Diabel—written in Archaic letters that he somehow understood. Below it as well was LV. 1, written in similar Grecian lettering that should have been foreign to him as a language.
"Huh? This…why does it look so much like a game interface? Whoever this One Unforgiven guy is, he seems up with the times; I guess. But then this begs the question—how do I even interact with it?"
Though he didn't know the first thing about controlling the system, Armaros tried many things he had seen from his comic and manga readings. One of them may have the answer he needed to his situation—right?
From dragging out every comic book he owned to scrolling up and down his libraries and collections of webnovels and webtoons, not a single one had his answer. He tried thinking about disappearing the system—that didn't work. He tried moving his hand in thin air where his eyes would show one of the lock icons bound in runic symbols—no avail either.
He was stuck on the basic home screen like an inexperienced newbie.
"Why the hell is it so hard for me to do just about anything on this? I get most of it seems locked, but Christ, how do I even disappear the thing so I can see regularly then?!" he shouted.
But just like that, the screen disappeared. He inadvertently stumbled upon his answer. And he was absolutely livid.
"It's voice-commanded!? Why, why would it be voice-commanded? Why wouldn't it work through thoughts?!"
A moment later, a notification popped over his eyes, [User preference registered: Commands now respond to Thoughts.]
…Okay, I guess this has preference settings as well.
After thinking back on everything that had happened, with a solid hour of his time being devoted to just trying to figure out how to close the home menu for regular vision, Armaros realized he needed to learn how this system really worked. He was at level 1, with absolutely nothing and no one to help him, but that was when the news from his TV reminded him of a solution.
The Wave Hunters! They can help me. Three weeks before the First Wave, of course—but the Wave Hunters should be able to help me.
Not wasting another second, Armaros speedily went through all his daily cares. He left his room a mess, and he couldn't take his eyes off his TV even while eating breakfast. The moment he was done getting ready, he burst through his front door, nearly hitting a group of children going to school. As he narrowly dodged them, the mark on his neck glowed with golden delight—he didn't even feel the pain with how excited he was.
He was going to be a Periodic, the one thing he truly wanted in his life. He was going to fulfill his dream by any means necessary.
********
While Armaros prepared to chase his long-forgotten dream, Tyra was already fighting to perfect hers. Her day started at seven, with lectures ending by noon at the latest before immediately shifting into combat training specific for each person. Advisors kept track of a Periodic's proclivities, advising them in the best classes for combat to take accordingly. And Tyra knew from the get-go that she was never going to be one that let others have the spotlight, or fall away into a background role.
During these combat classes, sparring helped to determine which students were to become the strongest or destined for different roles. They were held in arena-like structures, allowing for multiple students to train at once.
Tyra had known from day one she'd never wield a massive sword or withstand a heavy blow from a raging beast. As such, she built her fighting style with small weapons in mind, also having an evasive nature associated with herself.
That day, she sparred against an opponent who was a little lower level than herself. His name was Zephyr, and he was about level 16 to Tyra's 17. In recent months, the Wave Hunters had truly begun prioritizing getting people to level 20 as fast as possible. And one such way came via dueling within the Periodic System.
"Come on, Tyra. I thought you were supposed to be higher level than me?" Zephyr said, armored in a stylized blue and dark silver coat, lightweight armor underneath with greaves.
Then don't get so cocky, idiot, Tyra said, as the two clashed, daggers to rapier.
Breaking the stalemate, Zephyr tried to sweep out Tyra's legs. But with grace and finesse, she quickly switched her stance to dodge. Her white-armored dress flared out due to how fast she moved, her rapier dazzling with a pink-plasma-like energy. Sensing a shift in momentum, Tyra instantly capitalized.
[Skill activated: Ionic Thrust.]
Crackling and sizzling with pink, heat-like energy, Tyra hastily thrust her sword toward Zephyr's chest. He raised his daggers in a defensive position in time to block the attack. It seemed however, the move was too much for him to handle. The force flung his hands to the sides, breaking his stance in seconds.
[Stance broke: Riposte capable.]
A red vial-like bar was over his head from Tyra's view, half filled and glowing golden as the boy crumpled to a knee. In duels, the first person to score a riposte was deemed the winner, and only under certain scenarios was this to be any different.
With a quick slash across his chest, cutting through his armor and leaving a large red gash on his chest, Zephyr fell on his back.
The red bar on his head became empty, and Tyra had won.
[Victor: Tyra Clair, The Ionic Dancer. LV increase: 18], The system announced to the two as the other students in different sections continued their sparring.
Tyra had been on the cusp of leveling up from all the prior raids and dungeons she had taken on during her time at the Wave Hunters. Raids and Dungeons were small gateways around the world that had their own bosses to take on, like smaller-scaled versions of Waves. They were ranked F-A, and some required many people. Since almost no one was above level 20, F through D-ranked raids were all they could take on without incurring death as a possibility.
Zephyr laughed at the outcome of the duel, the red mark on his chest disappearing and his health restoring to full. He looked up at Tyra, who didn't seem to care much about how gracefully he was taking his defeat. This only caused him to chuckle more before she offered him a hand.
"You should worry more about keeping up with me than actually trying to get me off my game," she chided him.
"I know, but where's the fun in that? If that were the case, I would always look grumpy as you do," he jeered at her.
Tyra would then try to slap him over the head with the hilt of her weapon. Zephyr was barely able to dodge her swipe.
"Come on, Tyra, it was a joke!" he said as she glared angrily at the boy.
"I swear you act just like…just like him." She said, softening her tone.
"Who? You mean that—."
"No, no…I was thinking of someone else. Just—class is going to finish soon. If you're assigned to the same raid as me, I'll see you at 3," she said, throwing her rapier back into the sheath on her hip, which seemed quite regal in nature.
As she walked away, Zephyr spoke, "Hey, try coming out to hang with me and my boys after our raids are done. We are planning to hit the town, get a drink or two."
She paused in her motion, thinking about it for a moment. In her mind, she knew she had better things to do, and at the top of her list was ironing out any problems she had with her build—or fight styling—before the first wave.
"I'll think about it, Zephyr," she replied, walking out of the section they were in to go down a long corridor.
She pulled up her Periodic UI, its pink hue sharply contrasting Armaros's blue one. Most of the home elements were unchained, with the crow in the middle also burning pink, but also moulded with a plasma-like insignia at the center of the outstretched crow's body. All the other parts were unchained—save for one—connected by pink chains to the central mark. Each category read: Core Status Tree, Weapon Skill Tree, Armor Skill Tree, and Rebirth.
Rebirth was the only section still locked and she seemed to stare at it for a while.
If all my studies pay off, I won't need to use that part, she thought, before turning to her Core Status section.
She would only have herself to rely on while everyone else was too busy living a dream they didn't deserve. And she was going to make the most of it—if not for own, at least for her boyfriend's sake.
*******
Armaros stood before the Wave Hunters' towering headquarters, awestruck by the grandeur that it inspired upon a mere mortal. At least now he wasn't just a mortal—He had been chosen by fate.
It's time I lock in; life's gonna get harder now. If I just work hard enough though, I know I will be able to become one of the greatest in history. This is my moment, and I will not let it go by.
Walking past the Hollywood-like scene at the front, Armaros took his first steps to what he believed his future entailed.
Little did he know, the world would not be so kind to Periodics who had been forgotten, just like himself.