"Hehahaha! Look at him!"
A group of students erupted in laughter, their voices slicing through the training courtyard like sharp blades.
"The great Sonoda Yoshiike… still no curse after all these years?"
Another voice chimed in, oozing with sarcasm.
"Four years at Elk Creek Technical School, four failed awakenings… what a joke."
Yoshiike didn't flinch. Not even a glance in their direction.
These taunts were old news. He had endured them every single day for four long years. Ever since he first walked into the school, hoping to awaken his curse origin, only to face disappointment time and time again.
Every day since the nickname had been pinned on him: "The Uncursed Useless One."
He kept going with his exercises, silent and steady, moving with a methodical grace.
Punch after kick, block after spin his movements were flawless, yet they felt empty without the spark of a curse.
The other students continued to laugh, the instructors sighed in frustration, and life carried on around him.
And Yoshiike… simply listened.
Four years of mockery, of failure, of fading into the background. He had grown accustomed to it. Calm, patient, unshakable.
Because, in their eyes, he was nothing.
Yoshike sat cross-legged on the thin mattress of his dorm bed, a flickering candle casting shadows on the cracked walls around him.
The dorm was mostly quiet, with only the distant sounds of other students celebrating their little victories outside.
He tuned it all out, his focus locked on a thick, dog-eared book that lay open in his hands.
The title read: The Principles of Combat: An Overview of Martial Traditions.
While everyone else at school was caught up in the flashy Nexuses Techniques, Yoshike immersed himself in the movements of bare-handed fighters, the philosophies of sword masters, the footwork of spear-wielders, and the discipline of ancient martial arts.
His notes were scattered across the desk nearby, filled with cramped handwriting, diagrams of stances, and reminders to practice specific drills until his body ached.
He traced a particular passage with his finger, murmuring to himself: "Strength is nothing without form. Power collapses when the stance breaks."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Those words resonated with him far more than any "curse origin" nonsense. While others mocked him for being uncursed, Yoshike was busy carving discipline into his very bones.
A muffled laugh echoed down the hallway, and his nickname rang out once more: "The Uncursed Useless One!"
He gently closed the book, not out of anger, but with a sense of quiet determination. Rising to his feet, he started his shadow training every strike deliberate, every breath steady.
Soon, beads of sweat trickled down his temples, splattering onto the floor. In that dimly lit dorm room, his body moved with the fluidity of someone who had practiced these motions countless times.
No swearing.
No flashy moves.
Just pure muscle, focused mind, and unwavering will.
The next day, the atmosphere around the training grounds was alive with the buzz of students chatting away. Some were already in the thick of sparring, while others were boasting about their Nexus ranks.
That's when a broad-shouldered guy stepped up, cracking his knuckles with a confident grin.
His muscles seemed to ripple unnaturally, veins bulging as a faint glow pulsed beneath his skin. The crowd fell silent, whispers beginning to circulate.
"Physical Enhancement…" someone murmured.
He stomped toward Yoshiike, a sneer plastered on his face. "You think you're tough just because you can throw a few punches without an ability? Let me show you what real strength looks like."
Yoshiike held his ground, his gaze steady.
His hands hung relaxed at his sides, breathing steady. The bully lunged at him, enhanced muscles propelling him forward like a wild animal. The ground cracked beneath his feet as his fist sliced through the air—
But Yoshiike deftly sidestepped with a subtle movement. His body twisted fluidly, his palm connecting with the bully's wrist and redirecting the force.
In one smooth motion, his elbow shot up, landing a solid hit to the chin.
The enhanced brute staggered back, dazed, as Yoshiike swept his legs out from under him with ease.
A hush fell over the crowd. Eyes widened in disbelief. The boy without a Nexus stood tall, hardly out of breath.
"Even if I have no regrets," Yoshiike murmured, almost to himself, "no sins to fuel my strength… at least I can still fight. Unlike those who hide behind a rank 13 Nexus technique."
The defeated bully lay on the ground, clutching his jaw, while whispers spread among the students like wildfire.
After the encounter Yoshiike walks away as if nothing happened. Even if the ability was only Rank 13 it was still powerful.
But Yoshiike was already that strong to fight Rank 13 Nexian then he already has the power to do much more.
He wanted to be apart of the team that executes Dread Spirits.
BEEEEEP—BEEEEEP—
The school's emergency alarm blared.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed through the hallways, sounding like a decree from some higher power:
"ATTENTION. DREAD SPIRITS HAVE BREACHED THE PERIMETER. THIS CAMPUS IS UNDER SIEGE. ALL AWAKENED NEXUS USERS REPORT IMMEDIATELY FOR COMBAT RESPONSE."
Yoshiike froze, the book slipping from his fingers. He slowly turned his head toward the window.
Outside utter chaos.
The once-peaceful courtyards of the academy had transformed into a battleground.
Figures cloaked in swirling black mist, the Dread Spirits, glided across the ground like shadows made real, their grotesque forms tearing through students and guards alike.
The air was thick with despair as screams ricocheted off the stone walls. Blood sprayed, dissipating into dark vapor as the spirits feasted.
Yoshiike's eyes narrowed, maintaining his composure even as death unfolded just a few meters away. His reflection in the window stared back at him calm, inscrutable, almost chilling.
"…What in the actual fuck?," he whispered to himself.
The massacre below was no longer a distant nightmare. It was right here.
The school grounds had transformed beyond recognition.
What used to be a peaceful campus filled with laughter, chatter, and the sound of lockers slamming now erupted into chaos.
The air was thick with the oppressive presence of Dread Spirits—shadowy entities whose jagged forms flickered like nightmares pulled from another realm.
Their shrieks sent chills down spines and shattered glass, while their claws tore through desks and walls as if they were made of mere paper.
But not everyone was fleeing.
Students who had awakened their Nexus those marked by fate, whether cursed or blessed with power stood ready to fight.
Some were paralyzed with fear, others wore grins fueled by adrenaline, and a few had calm, focused expressions that showed just how much they had prepared for this very moment.
A boy charged into the battle, wielding a steel staff that hummed with blue Nexus energy.
Each swing left trails of light that cracked against the Dread Spirits' dark forms. With a powerful strike, he shattered one of the creatures into a cloud of smoke that vanished into the air.
Nearby, a girl in crimson gloves tightened her fists, Nexus energy swirling around her arms like flames.
With every punch, shockwaves erupted, cratering the ground and sending Spirits crashing into the walls.
Her knuckles bled from the effort, but she pressed on each strike a promise to protect her classmates behind her.
Another fighter chose precision over brute strength. Perched on the crumbled remains of a fountain, a quiet boy gripped a bow strung with pure Nexus threads.
He drew back, and the very air shimmered as glowing arrows of energy took shape. One by one, they struck the Spirits' skulls, pinning their thrashing bodies to the ground before they dissolved into smoke.
Each shot he took was calm and collected, a marksman in a supernatural war.
But not every Nexus User wielded a weapon.
A girl stretched out her hand, murmuring a chant under her breath.
From her fingertips erupted a wave of crystal shards, Nexus transforming into jagged constructs that sliced through Spirit after Spirit.
Her eyes glimmered faintly, but each spell took its toll—sweat trickled down her brow, her breaths came in short gasps. Yet, she summoned more and more shards, determined not to retreat.
Across the battlefield, another fighter unleashed his Nexus with brutal simplicity. He needed no weapon, no conjuring just his own body.
His fists glowed like molten steel, each blow sending concussive waves that shattered the courtyard's tiles.
He ducked under claws, twisted around fangs, and smashed jaws apart with a savage efficiency. His style was raw and feral yet undeniably effective.
The ground trembled.
One of the larger Dread Spirits surged forward, looming twice the height of a man.
Its head twisted in a grotesque manner, multiple jaws splitting open as it let out a terrifying roar.
Panic rippled through the defenders, but a Nexus User stepped up—a tall senior wielding a sword that sparkled like glass.
He raised the blade high, Nexus energy surging through his veins, and with a single, clean swing, he sliced the Spirit in half.
The students watching were frozen in awe.
The Spirits weren't infinite, but it sure felt that way.
For every one that fell, it seemed like two more crawled out from the shadows, pouring through the schoolyard gates and flooding the hallways.
The battlefield transformed into a chaotic dance of blood and smoke, steel clashing against shrieks.
Screams echoed all around. Some students fell.
Some fought on until their weapons splintered, their Nexus drained, and their breath stolen. The brave stood their ground.
The desperate kept clawing for survival.
And from the safety of a classroom window, Yoshiiike watched the chaos unfold.
The massacre had begun.
The school grounds transformed into a graveyard in mere minutes.
Dread Spirits surged through the gates like ink spilling over stone, their jagged limbs snapping, claws ripping, and maw-like faces grinning with an insatiable hunger.
Screams pierced the air, bouncing off the walls as students scrambled to defend themselves.
Some had awakened Nexus powers. Others wielded weapons infused with their abilities. A few fought with nothing but their fists.
But in the end, it didn't matter.
One by one, the defenders fell.
The boy with the glowing staff swung with precision, only for a Spirit to strike midair, shattering his arms and sending him skidding across the cracked courtyard.
The girl with flaming fists landed blows, but each strike barely slowed them down; her energy burned faster than she could maintain. She stumbled, bleeding from multiple cuts, as two Spirits dragged her into the shadows.
Even the marksman, whose arrows pierced through dozens of Spirits, couldn't keep pace. Each Spirit absorbed the energy of those it touched, mutating and growing stronger, faster.
A horde overwhelmed him, claws shredding through his defenses, arrows snapping as he barely escaped by rolling into the debris.
A Nexus User wielding crystal constructs summoned a flurry of jagged shards, slicing through several Spirits but more kept coming.
Hundreds, an unending tide, slipped past her defenses, crushing anyone who couldn't react in time.