Fragment 1: The First Wave
Hey, you. Yeah, you, who decided to open this book, app, webpage, or whatever you wanna call it. Got a question for you.
Let's say you're given power over everything—every universe, every life, every moment across time itself. Sounds cool, right? But then, some smug asshole comes along and says, 'Here's your ultimatum—wipe it all clean, or kill everyone you've ever cared about to save something else.'
What do you pick?
Take your time. Think real hard. Because I'm here to tell you…Whatever answer did you just come up with? It's wrong.
The only right answer—the only real answer—is 'Fuck you,' and then you kill them instead.
Why? Simple. You were given the power over everything. So use it. Bend the rules. Break the board. No one gives you two shitty choices unless they think you're dumb enough to play along.
That's what I told them, anyway.
But let's rewind a bit. My name's Lucian, and this isn't some grand hero's tale. I wasn't chosen, I wasn't special, and I sure as hell didn't ask for any of this. The world didn't want me—I just refused to leave. And now? Well… now I get to decide how the story ends.
So, sit back, get comfortable, and keep your eyes open. Because if there's one thing I've learned—it's that everything, and I mean everything, can change in an instant…
And in the end of it all, it's up to you and your choices. Why bend the knee and conform to something that doesn't feel right?
It took a while to attain this standing in my story, so why give it up?
You can complain as long as you're moving forward. If you're STILL or STAGNANT then shut the fuck up!
The sun sat high in the sky, blasting its heat through the car windows. It coated my light bronze skin with a haze of sweat while the world outside blurred by. Rows of houses faded like ghosts in the mirror, and the hum of the engine buzzed against my thoughts.
Last day of school.
"Finally."
It should've felt good—liberating, even. But instead, there was just a kind of bitter peace. I didn't have any friends to hug, no memories to look back on fondly. My real friends? Gone. Moved away back in kindergarten. The others? Just parasites that fed off weakness. Bullies who saw me as an easy mark.
School wasn't hard. I was smart. Gifted, even. The problem? No Aether. None. No Core. No Circuits. No spark. Just raw, stubborn meat in a world built for gods and monsters.
They saw it. Smelled it on me like blood in the water.
Rion was the ringleader. A short, wiry bastard with a mohawk that made him look like a budget anime villain, long arms like broken clock hands, and those bugged-out brown eyes. Always twitching. Always watching.
His posture said everything—always slightly hunched, like he wasn't used to walking without a blade in his hand.
He came from money. Big money. His Syndicate was one of the top five in the region. And he wore it like armor.
I swear, if a praying mantis and Dory from Finding Nemo had a lovechild, it'd be Rion.
But Rion was just the start.
He had three backup dancers: Anthony, Xavier, and Jason. Real pieces of work.
Anthony: A walking meat locker. Built wide, always eating, breathing through his mouth like the concept of silence offended him.
Xavier: Quiet. Too quiet. Never spoke, just stared like he was auditioning for a statue competition. Movement? Optional.
Jason: Dangerous. Lean. Sharp. Athletic. Calculated. The only one with real talent. The kind of guy you didn't notice until he moved—and then it was too late.
We'd tangled before, mostly at the Academy. They weren't threats. Just... irritants. But Jason? Jason had a mind. That made him dangerous.
As the car drove, their images flickered through my head. Ghosts of the past. Annoyances that once towered over me, now reduced to echoes.
Genesis Academy.
Sounds important. Prestige-laced. It's not. It's a meat grinder dressed in gold. A testing ground where the only lesson was survival. Where teens trained to be Wave Riders—soldiers, scavengers, scholars, and shields against the unknown.
So let me break it down.
Wave Riders (W.R.s) — the lunatics who enter Rifts.
Rifts: Interdimensional wounds where reality breaks down and Phantasms bleed through. Creatures that defy reason. Monsters sculpted by chaos.
They say these beasts were born from the Genesis Sea. The primordial ocean of possibility. The mythic womb that birthed the stars and maybe even time itself.
But no one's ever seen the Genesis Sea. Not really. Doesn't matter. Humanity saw mystery and turned it into a machine.
Enter the Syndicates.
Organizations? Sure. But more than that—they're militaries, banks, governments, mafias. The puppet masters of this era. They control the Rifts, the Phantasm hunts, the flow of Aether, and the destinies of millions.
They don't ask for obedience. They demand results.
And the worst part?
Phantasms aren't the main issue.
Rifts alter everything. They don't just spill monsters—they change the rules. Mutate the terrain. Twist time. Flood the atmosphere with raw, condensed Aether.
Leave a Rift open long enough, and the world forgets what it used to be.
Mountains turn into crystal valleys. Lakes boil into clouds of ash. Cities become jungles of teeth and rust.
And that's just Tier 8.
The higher the Tier, the more unhinged the laws become.
People near Rifts? They change, too. Some evolve. Some break. Some... just vanish.
But me? I'm not afraid of monsters.
People are worse.
So yeah—this is where my story begins.
With no powers. No allies. No glory. Just me, a broken system, and a world itching to tear me apart.
But the thing about broken things?
They tend to cut deeper when they decide not to stay broken.
But anyway, back to the story.
I hated moving.
We'd been crammed in this hot, musty car for so long that it felt like we were melting into the seats. It was always too cramped, always uncomfortable. Sometimes we brought the dog, which was nice—when she wasn't trying to piss everywhere or slobber all over me and the seats.
Ziva. That was her name. A German Shepherd, I think. Annoying as hell. But a good dog.
Then my uncle said the words that changed everything.
"We're moving to Vesperia."
Vesperia. The capital of the world.
I barely believed it. The city of giants, where towers reached into the clouds, where ancient stone streets hummed with cutting-edge tech. A place where countless cultures clashed and coexisted, where the Central Plaza stood like a throne over the metropolis, and the Luminary Gardens shone like a dream that never faded.
A city where the past met the future, and dreams and reality blurred together.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn't mad about leaving. Maybe… maybe this was the start of something.
But before I could even finish entertaining the fantasy, I saw where we were going.
"Genesis Horizons Gifted Arts Program."
The birthplace of the first of my many problems.
Jason and the others trained here after school.
"Uncle… why are we going here and not back to the house?" I asked, already not liking the answer.
"Don't worry about it. We're just filling out the paperwork to withdraw you," he said, smiling—but his eyes didn't match. He seemed aggravated… no… worried.
I didn't say much after that. But I already knew.
This wasn't going to be a good last day.
Genesis Academy.
Or G.A., as everyone called it.
It wasn't a normal school. It was a place designed to break you.
Every single day was meant to test, train, and mold us into Wave Riders.
"The next 'Pride of Astrali,s who will split the sea and lead a way for humanity to a new dawn' was their motto."
Morning Assembly at 8:00 AM. Core Studies at 8:30. Magic Training by 9:30.
Bmiddayay, we were either sparring, analyzing Phantasms, or running until we puked.
If you survived until 5:00 PM, congrats—you got to do it again tomorrow.
Rion and I? Same schedule. Same fights. Same bullshit.
He couldn't mess with me in the regular classes—too many instructors watching.
But Combat Training? That was his playground.
I couldn't control my Arts well.
Which meant I tried not to use them at all.
Rion, though? He had zero hesitation.
He was already a D-Rank Mage before even graduating.
And I had work to do.
That's the problem in this world—everything comes down to Aether.
🔹 Aether 101: Aether is life energy. It flows through everything—the air, the ground, trees, rocks, even the stars. It decides everything.
But having Aether isn't enough. You have to wield it. That's where Cores & Circuits come in.
🔹 Aether Core Formation (Mages): The Core is formed in the brain, acting as a reservoir of power. It lets you cast Arts—controlling elements, space, or even reality. Stronger Core? More Aether. Bigger attacks.
🔹 Aether Circuits (Martial Artists): Circuits run through the body, refining energy through combat and breathing techniques. Instead of casting Arts, Circuit users channel Aether into Techniques, enhancing speed, reflexes, and raw power.
You have to choose one path. But in most cases, it's already decided at birth. Augmentation is possible, but the person in question must rewrite their body physiology, losing the ability of their other system.
Some believe it's possible to master both, but only the gods know how…
"Hey Lucian, what's up! I heard you're moving. Is that true?"
I turned my head lightly, side-eyeing him.
Rion Nyzara Vaul.
If anyone counted as my actual bully, it was him.
I sighed. "What do you want? Why are you talking to me like we're cool?"
"Can't a guy just say hi to his friend?" He smirked. Too smug for his good.
"Friend?" I scoffed. "I don't remember filling out an application for that."
Rion grinned wider, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Still mad about school combat practice the other day?"
I smirked back. "On the contrary. Didn't I make up for it today?"
His grin twitched. A little crack in his confidence.
Yeah. I landed some hits this time.
But I wasn't satisfied yet.
The air between us thickened, the weight of unspoken challenges pressing in.
Rion leaned in, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
"You think you're all that just because you won one fight?"
I met his gaze without flinching, smirking a little, flaring my aetherp, causing my eyes to glow. "It wasn't just one fight, Rion. I've beaten you before, and you know it."
His smirk faltered for half a second before his expression twisted into amusement. "Oh really? You must have a selective memory, Lucian. Because I remember you on the ground, gasping for breath."
I shrugged, unfazed. "Selective memory or not, the fact remains." My eyes narrowed slightly. "You've never really beaten me when it counts.
"I expected more from a 'being' as noble as yours, if but then I forget you're just a leech." I laughed
A small ripple ran through the room.
The energy shifted.
Eyes flickered toward us—some curious, others wary. The tension was too loud to ignore.
Footsteps.
Jason sauntered over, Anthony and Xavier flanking him like loyal shadows.
"What's going on here?" Jason asked, his voice casual but laced with authority.
Rion tilted his head, still not breaking eye contact. "Just the usual, Jason. Lucian here thinks he's better than us."
Jason chuckled, deep and mocking, his arms folding across his chest. "Is that so?"
He studied me for a second. Sizing me up. Calculating.
Then, a grin.
"How about we settle this once and for all?"
His voice carried weight.
"One last rematch before you leave, Lucian. You versus Rion."
I raised an eyebrow, meeting Jason's gaze without a shred of hesitation.
"You think he can beat me, Rion? After all this time, you still need your minions to feel powerful, Rion?"
"On top of that, all you four know how to do is jump, osoI already came here expecting nothing less from y'all."
The smirk on Rion's face twitched—a crack in the facade. His eyes darkened, amusement flashing into irritation.
"You've got a big mouth for someone who's about to get his ass handed to him." He stepped closer, his voice dropping an octave. "Or are you just too scared to face us?"
I laughed. Laughter: A short, sharp ha! Like, he just told me the dumbest joke in the universe.
"Scared? Of you three stooges? Please." I tilted my head, letting the words hang. "If anything, I should be worried about making you cry in front of everyone." I finished dusting off his shoulders and fixing his jacket on him since he was looking kinda rough.
The moment stretched.
A beat of silence.
Then, Anthony let out a low whistle."Damn."
Xavier chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "He's got you there, Rion."
Rion ignored them, his fists clenching at his sides. That was the thing about him—he could dish it out all day, but the moment you hit back with words sharper than his, he started cracking at the edges.
Jason, though? He was different. I never understood why that boy was following this dumb leech.
He watched calmly, like he was playing chess and had already predicted my next five moves.
His smirk widened. "Fine then. One last match." He flicked his wrist toward the door. "Let's take this outside."
Jason's tone was casual, but the weight in the room shifted instantly. The challenge wasn't just for Rion anymore—it was a spectacle.
Eyes darted to each other.
Whispers spread.
A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd like a fire catching wind.
"You think Lucian will win?"
"I dunno. Rion's been training extra hard."
"Shit, this is gonna be good."
Someone bolted out the door first, eager to claim a front-row seat.
Within seconds, a stampede of students rushed after, their footsteps thundering down the hall, shoving past each other just to get a glimpse.
By the time I stepped outside, the open yard had transformed into an arena.
A loose circle had already formed around us, students pushing to the front, standing on benches, some even climbing onto the fence just to get a better view. The murmur of voices buzzed in the air, a rising storm of excitement and anticipation.
Rion rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he stepped forward. He was already in fight mode—his stance lower, his breathing measured.
I took my place across from him, rolling my wrists.
The air felt… different.
Not just because of the crowd.
Not just because this was our last fight here.
But because, for the first time, I wasn't nervous.
Not even a little.
I lifted my chin, smirking. "Try not to embarrass yourself too much."
Rion's eyes flashed, his Aether flickering to life at his fingertips.
"You're gonna regret this, Lucian."
The air in the yard thickened, the sun beating down as the crowd's murmurs buzzed like static around us. All eyes were locked onto me and Rion, the center of their universe for this moment.
I stood, eyes narrowed, as the crowd began to circle like vultures around the scent of drama. My heart pounded—not from fear, but from the hum beneath my skin. The fight wasn't just inevitable. It was personal.
Rion cracked his neck and sneered. "You ready to get humbled one last time, Lucian?"
I smirked. "The only thing getting humbled is your pride."
The students backed off, clearing the field. Excitement buzzed through the air.
Jason lifted his hand. "Begin."
Rion surged forward first, lightning dancing off his skin, fast and wild.
I didn't move.
The moment Rion's fist came close, I dipped, shifted, and retaliated with a solid punch to the gut. Rion wheezed, eyes wide. Another blow followed—an uppercut that lifted him off the ground slightly.
"Guess your thunder's just noise," I muttered.
The crowd gasped. Jason narrowed his eyes. This wasn't the same Lucian they picked on before.
Rion hit the dirt. Xavier and Anthony stepped forward.
I exhaled slowly, the ambient Aether around me pulling inward like breath before a storm.
Jason cracked his knuckles. "Then let's make this a group lesson."
All at once, the brawl ignited. A storm of fists, kicks, and Arts collided.
I was no longer backing down.
I was rising.
I didn't move.
But my stance shifted ever so slightly—just enough to be noticed by the sharp-eyed. Feet braced. Shoulders dropped. Calm.
Rion lunged, the sound of crackling Aether announcing him like a drumbeat. Lightning wove around his arms, wild and untamed, his movements sharp and honed from months of combat drills.
But I didn't meet power with power. I meet it with grace.
I sidestepped.
Fluid.
Rion's punch slammed through the air.
I pivoted—my right foot twisted into the dirt, and my elbow drove clean into Rion's ribs.
A thwack echoed like a cannon pop. The crowd gasped.
Rion stumbled—but Lucian didn't stop.
A spinning kick followed. Not flashy. Functional. It landed square in Rion's sternum, lifting him an inch off the ground before dumping him on his back.
Jason's grin faltered.
I stared down, not gloating, calculating.
Then Xavier rushed in, a blur of momentum and flowing footwork. He was a Flow Fighter—every move seamless, no wasted energy. He struck low, aiming to clip my knees and disrupt my stance.
I leapt—not high, just enough.
Xavier's leg swept under me, and Lucian dropped midair like a stone, crashing a knee into Xavier's shoulder, twisting into a throw mid-fall. Xavier hit the ground hard, rolling to soften the blow.
Anthony roared next, fists covered in burning blue Aether.
A brawler. Tank build. Pure power.
I ducked the first hammer fist and leaned into the second, letting it graze my jaw to draw him in.
My left hand shot out, locking Anthony's wrist. With my right slamming into Anthony's throat.
A stunned grunt.
I flipped him.
The ground cracked from Anthony's impact.
Then Jason moved.
No theatrics. No wasted motion.
One moment he was still, the next he was inches away.
I barely blocked—my forearm clashing with Jason's.
The force drove me back. Jason was fast. Sharp. Clean.
Our fists blurred. Jason struck twice—high and mid. I blocked one, dodged the other, and responded with a short hook to the jaw.
Jason twisted with it, countering with a knee.
I caught the leg mid-swing and shoved it off-balance, then slammed my shoulder into Jason's chest, knocking him back several feet.
A low whistle swept through the crowd.
Rion, recovered, tried to blindside me again—lightning flaring brighter this time.
My eyes narrowed.
Catching the arm, pivoting under it, and slamming Rion to the ground.
This time, he stayed down.
The rest hesitated.
I straightened, breathing controlled.
"Anyone else?"
Silence.
The tension snapped. Students erupted, a mix of cheers and murmurs.
Jason stared for a moment longer, then smiled, unreadable.
"This'll be fun," he muttered.
Lucian exhaled.
The storm passed.
But the war was just beginning.
The crowd roared.
Rion recovered quickly—his instincts sharp, his footwork even sharper. He didn't waste time being mad, launching into a barrage of punches and kicks, each movement fueled by his Aether.
I met him head-on.
No Aether. No Arts. Just hands.
"Don't forget that just because I don't have an aether cultivation system doesn't mean I can't use basic enhancements,s," I said, putting my leg back in position.
Our bodies collided in a relentless exchange. Fists clashed against forearms, feet scraped against dirt as we pivoted and countered each other's strikes in rapid succession.
A right hook—parried.
A low kick—dodged.
A knee strike—blocked and reversed.
But I was physically faster. Stronger.
I could already see it in his stance after fighting him so many times—his body reacting slower than mine, his muscles straining harder to keep up.
Rion feinted left—I didn't fall for it.
He swung a low kick—I stepped inside his guard and slammed an elbow into his ribs.
He gasped.
Before he could recover, I sent a vicious right hook crashing into his jaw.
His head snapped sideways.
His feet lifted slightly off the ground.
He landed hard, tumbling across the dirt like a discarded ragdoll.
The crowd exploded.
But I wasn't done.
I dashed forward, my high knee strike already in motion before he could react. My knee met his chest with full force, the impact booming like a cannon shot.
Rion crashed into the ground, coughing, struggling to breathe.
I squatted down next to him, resting my elbow on my knee.
"Now, Rion, all that talk before—what happened?" I tilted my head, grinning. "Your lightning felt soothing. Maybe next time, turn up the voltage?"
The crowd screamed in chaos, half in awe, half in pure disbelief.
Then, I felt it.
A shift in the air.
Jason.
Anthony.
Xavier.
"I promise I'll remember their real names, I just didn't care about any of them until later."
Their energy rose simultaneously.
I barely had time to register it before Xavier rushed forward from the side, aiming a kick straight for my ribs.
I twisted at the last second, his foot grazing my side instead of breaking it.
Anthony was next—his bulk moving quicker than expected, his fist swinging straight for my face.
I ducked.
But I wasn't fast enough to avoid Jason, the real threat.
His attack came like a whisper of death.
A sharp strike to my temple—quick, precise, barely avoidable. "He's fast—too fast."
My vision blurred for a second as I took a step back, regaining my balance.
The three of them now stood between me and Rion, ready.
Jason cracked his knuckles, calm, methodical."Did you think this was a fair fight, Lucian? Come like your life is on the line."
Rion coughed behind him, pushing himself up onto shaky arms. His eyes burned with fury—but not just at me.
At himself.
Because he knew.
One-on-one, he lost.
But four-on-one?
That was a different story.
I exhaled slowly.
"Alright," I muttered, rolling my shoulders. "Guess we're doing this the fun way."
The crowd screamed even louder, the tension reaching its peak.
Jason grinned.
"Let's break him."
And then—they all attacked at once.
The moment Jason spoke, the fight shifted.
Before I could even process my next move, Xavier struck first.
His footwork was flawless, moving in a flowing, unpredictable rhythm, his entire body weaving like liquid. He wasn't charging in like Rion—no wasted movements. He blurred to my right, twisting into a low sweeping kick, his Aether enhancing the motion.
"Flow Fighters—adaptive bastards."
I barely managed to leap over the sweep, but Anthony was already above me, his fists radiating a sharp blue aura.
Aether-infused punches.
I twisted midair, bringing my arms up to block.
BOOM!
The moment his fists crashed against my guard, my bones screamed in protest. The impact sent me flying back, my heels digging trenches into the dirt as I barely stayed upright.
"They're going for crippling hits."
Jason grinned, his stance grounded, unshaken. "Keep up the pressure. He's all muscle—break his mobility first."
Rion snarled, rushing in. His movements were more desperate now, fueled by rage and humiliation. His right leg snapped forward, aiming for my liver—a spot I knew would mess up my entire body if it landed.
I clenched my teeth. "No chance, idiot."
I took a step forward instead of dodging, meeting his leg with a downward elbow smash.
CRACK!
Rion screamed as his knee bent at an unnatural angle, and I almost grinned.
But I wasn't given a second to enjoy it, because Jason moved.
His speed was terrifying.
One moment, he was across the yard. The next—
A blur. A fist. A flash of light.
I barely twisted, but his Aether-coated fist still grazed my ribs.
Pain exploded through my side.
My vision warped for a moment, the world tilting. Blood filled my mouth.
I hadn't even recovered before Anthony and Xavier came in together—one high, one low.
Shit.
I threw up my arms to block Anthony's next punch, but Xavier's kick buried itself into my ribs.
The impact sent me rolling.
The crowd was losing its mind.
Jason exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "There, see? He's strong, but he doesn't know how to use it. Take him apart piece by piece."
They were trying to break me.
And honestly?
They were close.
My arms felt like lead. My vision swam.
And then—
I heard it.
A rush of waves.