Surviving in Wellston High and the greater world I live in takes a certain kind of pedigree and mentality.
People here walk over others like it's their right, like it's something natural and destined. 30% low-tiers, 55% mid-tiers, 12% elite-tiers, and 2% high-tiers. And of course, for the exceptionally unlucky, 1% powerless - those born without abilities - cripples. Each tier is a social and racial class onto itself, separating people from the moment of their birth and the formation of their ability.
Oh, but Arlo, you might say, abilities can be cultivated! You can train hard, overcome your limits, and raise your ability level with time and effort! Nothing is impossible!
Wrong.
The Standard Gauging System's ability formula states that ability level can be directly calculated by multiplying potential with mastery and dividing by 10. Potential and mastery are numbers between 1 and 10, with 1 representing the weakest possible potential or mastery of your ability, and 10 being the strongest possible ability or mastery. For any math heads out there, it should be obvious already what this formula implies.
Since your potential is fixed from birth, we can just consider that a constant and disregard it. The only variable in this equation that we can actually influence is mastery. And wouldn't you know it, the highest mastery level you can attain is a 10.
You do the math and work out the upper bound of what's possible. Your maximum ability level is just equal to Potential * 10 / 10. In other words, if you simplify it:
Maximum ability level = potential.
What you can achieve is fixed from birth. There is no comeback for people born with weak abilities. There is no locking in. You're done for.
If you aren't born blessed, you're just gutter trash. Even the most brutal social darwinist would balk at such an uncompromising system so devoid of upward mobility.
It's a fucked up world I live in.
It's also why I'm wearing my barrier around my head like a bubble.
"Can you stop challenging me? This is beginning to get ridiculous," I complained, slamming my foot into Ventus' back and sending him sprawling to the floor. He roared back angrily and sent a powerful gust of wind at me to knock me down… which splashed harmlessly against my barrier. I rolled my eyes at his display of resistance and pulled him up directly by the shirt, bringing his face right up to my own.
"Take that stupid head bubble off you moron," Ventus rasped, struggling to get out of my grip.
"Or what?" With a vicious punch, I slammed Ventus' head against the wall and was rewarded with a loud cracking noise. "Who are you to tell me what to do huh? Stop fucking challenging me and maybe I'll consider it!"
Ventus tried to say something through his bloodied lips, but I shut him up with a throat punch before slinging him back onto the ground. This time, he didn't resist and fight back. I took that as my cue to stomp on his leg repeatedly, making sure he wouldn't be able to get back up.
"I refuse to breathe the same air as you," I declared to my fallen opponent grandly. The golden barrier around my head shimmered in support of my statement. Ventus didn't respond, probably because he was still busy wheezing from the throat punch. And maybe the concussion I gave him.
He was looking a little pale, so I nudged Ventus with my foot to make sure he was still conscious. "My barrier filters oxygen from the surrounding air so I don't have to breathe in your foul smell," I told him kindly, sotto voce. "I know it must be humiliating, getting beaten up by someone wearing a bubble on their head. That's why I wear it whenever I fight you."
I kneeled next to Ventus, close enough that I could whisper into his ear.
"Don't challenge me again," I snarled. "I won't be as nice the next time."
Yeah. I was fucked in the head. But that was the price you paid for living in this world. Having a soft heart didn't help you get anywhere, or achieve anything. If I wanted to change how this world was run, I would need to climb to the very top, starting with Wellston.
Ventus was just one of the many mad dogs blocking my ascent to become Wellston's King.
All the students nearby scattered like mice as I walked away from Ventus's prone form, making a beeline for the bathroom so I could clean off the blood on my hands and shirt. It was a messy affair, fighting. Years of doing this had conditioned me well enough that it didn't really bother me anymore, but I still disliked the grimy stickiness of spilt blood that always seemed to cling onto my clothes after every fight.
My ability didn't lend itself to cleaning clothes in any way, so I just had to do things the old-fashioned way, starting by taking my shirt off and soaking it in the sink. Some soap and scrubbing followed that, and then I wrung out the cleaned shirt until it was at an acceptable level of dampness.
Rei would have laughed at me. He was nice, impossibly so, but even he was willing to fight when it got down to it and didn't mind the bloodiness. That was if he fought. I was willing to bet Rei would just try to de-escalate and talk things out rather than lift his fist.
Was it really worth it, all this fighting and bloodiness? The sink was still running in the background, but all I could hear was the roaring of my own thoughts. I splashed some water on my face, feeling the gentle coolness soothe my face and sharpen my mind. I looked up at the mirror in a moment of weakness.
Blond hair and blue eyes stared back at me. Sharp features, high cheekbones, an angled jaw with extreme contours. Arlo stared back at me. I stared back at him.
Then, my delusion broke as Rei burst into the bathroom with a loud crash and clapped me on the back fiercely.
"Ow," I said, because I didn't really have anything else to say. My damp shirt was still clenched in my hands, and Rei's static-charged hand on my bare shoulders hurt.
"Don't tell me you're washing your clothes again!" Rei burst out laughing, his legs nearly buckling at the sight of my shirt.
I just scowled and shoved the shirt back on before buttoning up. Rei very generously gave me the time to make myself decent before giving me a disapproving look, likely for what I'd just done to Ventus.
"Before you say anything, he started it first." That was all I could say in my defense.
"You know that's never the case," Rei replied. "There's always going to be a first. Why return violence with violence? I agree that you should defend yourself, but was it really necessary to brutalize that kid to the point of a three-day hospitalization?"
"Violence is the only thing Ventus understands," I told him frustratedly. "What part about that don't you get? If I don't beat him down today, he'll be back tomorrow to challenge me again! Backing down is a sign of weakness, and Ventus will pounce on it like the mad dog that he is!"
The scandalous look Rei gave me was honestly so funny that I nearly burst out laughing. "Fine, I won't call him a mad dog. Ventus is a nice, respectable person, and if I just talk things out with him reasonably…" I paused, letting the words hang, "I'm sure he'll come around. Is that what you want to hear?"
"I could use a little less sarcasm," Rei said dryly. He rubbed at his temples, tousling his hair in a spray of electrical sparks. "But yes. Go talk to him and apologize."
This was the part I hated most. It was a constant cycle. Ventus would challenge me. I would refuse his challenge, and he would take it as a sign of weakness. Then, he would pester me all day, and then I'd have to beat him down. Rei would swoop in to lecture me and make me apologize to Ventus… which would just incite him to fight me again.
Even then though, I still relented.
"I'll go apologize," I bit out, already regretting my words. There'd be hell to pay for this, but I didn't want to disappoint Rei. "Who took Ventus to the hospital this time?"
"Probably Amanda."
I took off without further argument and got an encouraging smile from Rei, the blasted idiot. Arguing with Rei was always pointless. He was just so damn optimistic, so blind to the system and how embedded it was in our society. Rei was the type of guy who saw the best in everyone… including even me. That was why I didn't argue back.
The bubble head had been the latest in a series of experiments to try to dissuade Ventus from continuing his challenge against me. Wearing it felt ridiculous, having to fight against me who was wearing it probably even more so.
I knew for certain that Ventus must have been humiliated. I'd given him the spiel about not wanting to breathe the same air as him several times already, and Cecile was always happy to take pictures for the school newspaper to add salt to his wounds.
Still, he always came running back for another challenge. The guy was just thick in the head.
I was also partly to blame for this, because I'd yet to figure out how to make my signature barrier reflect damage. Years spent as Arlo and reading the series conditioned me into thinking that the damage reflection aspect of my barrier would come naturally, but the unfortunate reality was that I had to manually learn how to do it.
As a freshman, I was untested and unproven. The older Wellston students were always looking for new kids to pick on or bully, and every freshman who wanted to secure their place in the hierarchy had to fight their way upward. Defeating a publicly acknowledged 'strong' student did wonders for your reputation, and I was unfortunately the 'easiest' strong student to beat in Ventus' eyes.
At an ability level of 4.8, I was infinitely close to becoming a high-tier and had the necessary ability to match. My absurdly high ability level meant I was easily a candidate for a position in the royals, and most students acknowledged that.
Sadly, my barrier ability wasn't particularly conducive to fighting without its signature capacity to reflect damage. What I usually relied on was the barrier's strong defensive power to play around with my opponents, taking advantage of my invulnerability to outlast enemies and physically beat them down.
Since I couldn't directly attack him with my barrier, Ventus got it into his head that I was a soft target and hounded me endlessly. Obviously, I proved him wrong every time, but that didn't stop him from trying again and again. It was impressive how he stubbornly refused to recognise reality.
The hallways of Wellston were packed with all manner of students. Mostly freshmen at this hour since we had different class schedules, but there was the occasional sophomore or junior student too. As I strode by, I watched with scorn as a junior student picked on a freshman for fun, pulling her piglets and physically swinging her around.
On the ground, I spied a collection of colorful notebooks - diaries - stationary, and a haphazardly emptied backpack. The junior was taunting her, probably about something inane as usual, and making a loud show of it.
Given that she wasn't fighting back, she was probably a cripple, and the junior harassing her was likely a low-tier. Figures.
It was always the low tiers who were the worst bullies. They were constantly beaten down by society and higher-ranked ability users, so the only way they could really vent their frustrations was by picking on the limited selection of cripples who were allowed to attend the school. The fact that violence was the method by which they vented was just a byproduct of our society.
Left to their own devices, I wouldn't be surprised to hear if the low-tiers ended up permanently disabling a cripple or killing them.
"Hey," I shouted cheerfully, before winding up a massive haymaker and smashing the junior's head into the wall. "Stop being a fucking loser and mind your own business!"
The pigtail girl just gaped at the sudden escalation of violence. She looked back and forth between me and the junior as if unsure what had just transpired. The junior didn't react to her look because he was collapsed like a limp sockpuppet.
"Better scram before he wakes up," I told her casually. I didn't need to tell her twice, as she threw me a grateful nod and gathered her stuff before taking off. No one batted an eye at my actions.
It was just natural. The strong could do what they wanted, regardless of what it was. So what if I felt like lending a helping hand? Have a problem with that? Then take it up with me. If someone could beat me down, I naturally wouldn't argue back either.
Well, I would argue back, although that would only be once I'd trained enough to give whichever idiot beat me down the thrashing of a lifetime.
"It's a fucked up world we live in," I mumbled under my breath as I made my way to the hospital ward. No one heard me speak because my barrier isolated all the sounds.
AN: Use this link below to join my discord. I had to chop up the link a bit, so just delete the spaces to get the proper link. FFN doesn't let me add links so I have to do it this way.
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