Chapter 1: Unchosen
— Centuries Later - The Modern Age —
In the modern era, a woman walked through the rainy streets of an urban city. Her hair was darker than the clouds above as she carried a baby wrapped in cloth of the dullest shade of grey. She sheltered the child, walking through the crowded sidewalks of people. Her eyes were unable to be seen by any that passed her.
She arrived at the doorstep of an orphanage that was well known and renowned throughout the city. On the porch at the front, where a covering canopy prevented rain from landing on the front, she rested the child at the door. As she set the child down, a symbol of a crow etched upon her breast could be seen. She crouched near the baby, resting her head nearby for the infant to play with her hair.
"Be well now, my child…and grow strong so you may see me and your father once again," she said, slowly pulling away from the small baby.
She turned away and walked a few paces. But soon after, her body broke into a million ravens, taking flight to the sky. The child was left as an orphan, bearing the same insignia of heritage as the woman, left upon its neck.
*******
Time had passed and the boy could not remember events that had transpired that day. He grew up in the orphanage for much of his life, enduring a childhood that had its lows as well as its highs. But as he grew thirteen, learning about the wonders of the world, one thing grasped his attention above all—manga, comics, and the prospect of being special.
As a senior in high school, life was leading him towards the inevitability of going to college. An unfulfilling life was the last thing he wanted. For him, he wanted a different path, a path he had grown to hear so much of in his brief life.
Many people in the world had been born with weird birthmarks. Many people even in history had held such a thing. And for the boy, he was no different, born with similar markings shared by his classmates and even his girlfriend, Tyra.
While commonplace in modern society, a subset of the population would then grow abilities and affinities, tied to some form of gift that awakens at age eighteen. This happened only for a select few, tied to what many knew as the "Periodic System". But upon activation of this system, all who were chosen experienced its awakening around the same time of the "Periodic year".
With its great significance to the state of the world, societies—even throughout history—taught of its importance. And high schools around the world were some of the first to teach it to students. The first student to sign up for such a study, once given the chance, was that boy—Armaros.
Seated in a lecture with many other students in his class, Armaros sat near the middle of the lecture benches, scrolling up and down his phone. He seemed to be reading the latest chapters of a manga he was hooked on. The professor had yet to arrive, and as such, the hall was boisterous with talk and banter.
Everyone seems to be excited about this course, huh? Makes sense with the all-new Periodics that have been popping up all over the news recently. It's just a matter of time now before all of them get discovered, Armaros thought.
Pausing in his scrolls, his mind lingered on his assessment, wondering how much longer it would take for him to possibly awaken. Though it was no guarantee, he would have at least until the day's end to fully know. It was just a matter of time, as he thought. Whether he would be left out would be for the universe to spell out to him.
Soon, there was a bump on his shoulder from the girl right beside him. She was rather stunningly beautiful, the same height as Armaros with red–colored eyes in contrast to his blue ones. Her uniform was like his, with an additional feminine touch. Her figure was quite slender and athletic, robust compared to his toned disposition.
"You mind getting off that phone, idiot, and having a decent conversation with me for more than two seconds?" she said, half-angry yet playful enough that it didn't scare him.
"Sorry, Tyra. I was just thinking about something."
"The only time you stop reading and stare like that is if you're thinking about something to do with those Periodicals you talk about so much."
Annoyed at her confusion of the words, he corrected her, excitement finding its way into his lungs, "Tyra, they are Periodics. And who wouldn't want to be one? Have you not seen all the cool things they do? Not to mention—"
"Don't go rambling off all the things you know about them please…you do this every time. Plus, I heard if you become one anyway, you'll just end up disappearing by age 30 because of those Wave-thingies, and that is the last thing I want happening to myself."
Whatever you say, Tyra. Armaros thought, before seeing Tyra wince in pain, placing her hand to the side of her neck where her birthmark was present.
Before he could ask what was wrong, the professor for the lecture quickly darted into the room, as he was 10 minutes late. His demeanor was rushed, clothing rather hastily drawn–on and with a bit of disheveled nature to him. But that didn't stop him from quickly getting himself in order and even faster, setting up his presentation for all the students.
"Armaros, I'm fine, don't worry about it. Just focus on the lecture." She told him, doing so for the time being.
Fine…let's get this show on the road.
Tyra had calmed herself and Armaros gave his teacher his undivided attention. The lecture was about to begin.
"Alright, everyone. Settle down now. Just by walking in here, I've heard all the talk about the news today, which makes it even better that this class centers all about it." The Professor said, "We all live in a radical world we can't always explain. But people no matter what will always try, enter the discovery of Periodics."
Armaros' ears, like many of the students in the room, perked up immediately.
"Periodics," the Professor continued, flicking through his presentation, "As defined by the Wave Hunter's Organization, are those born with a birthmark that serves as a rite of authorization to access what is known as the Periodic System. Something scientists still don't understand. How many of you want to study this field as your major in college?"
Around thirty hands went up in the air, Tyra's and Armaros's not being amongst them. Tyra only took the course because her boyfriend wanted to. But for Armaros, he didn't want to study it—he wanted to be chosen by it.
While Armaros became entranced by the study on display, Tyra continued to wince in pain, making slightly below audible groans.
"It is such a fascinating system, isn't it? As it is the sole reason people like The Periodics I am about to show you can do things they do."
The professor then switched to a slide that had a recording at the center. After allowing the video to play, the students observed a fight between a woman and a man in regalia armor, both brandishing swords of different varieties. In moments, the two clashed with one another so fast the students could barely keep up. One used a Titanium Wall out of the ground to block the other's fire-based attack. But moments later, the fire would turn back into hydrogen-like gas, and go right around the wall to continue moving after the opponent.
It was a spectacle to behold, stunning Armaros and the others. The professor paused at the moment the woman's face could be seen, fixated on the features of her confident visage.
"That woman there…was my wife. Same age as all of you during this. She was taken to be a Periodic after her mark awakened." He told her, "I met her a few years later. She was a part of the last Periodic age's waves,"
His voice then became shaky, before finishing his statement, "She was the best of both of us."
Sorry for your loss, sir, Armaros thought, before noticing Tyra's groans, and turning to her, "Tyra?"
Her hands were grasping at her neck with so much force that her nails were practically embedded underneath her skin. It was like she wanted to rip her flesh free, clawing at her burning symbol. Moving to gauge the situation, Armaros dropped to his girlfriend's side whilst the lecture continued.
"After every eighteen years, after the last Periodics have died, new ones are chosen to protect us against things humans cannot fathom. Only they are capable of defeating the Waves that come. They become a part of a divine-based system that we as scientists try to help them understand. A system similar to a—"
A shriek came over the professor's words, the sound of wails reverberating through the hall. Armaros tried to calm her, the entire class turning to see the commotion.
Armaros tried to see what the source of her pain was and stop her from clawing out her own flesh. But after removing her hand and seeing the source, he instantly knew what had happened. Tyra arose from her seat, clawing at her shirt collar, revealing to everyone the sign of her birthmark. The symbol of a crow, exuding a pink and blue color, burned along her neck and showed no signs of calming down.
Armaros fell back into his seat, left aghast like many of the rest of the children and even the professor.
The professor stuttered, trying to find the words for the situation. "It—it's like my wife…She—she."
She is a Periodic.
In the situation's shock, the professor sent a student to go alert the main office of the school. Others gathered around to help quell Tyra, but Armaros was left unmoving. He wanted to be happy for her, but this is something Tyra never wanted—even made jokes about. She had always laughed and cared little about such a thing, something he desperately wanted to be a part of. And out of everyone in the room, she was chosen.
She was a Periodic now. He was left unchosen.