Silas closed the book, which was actually an old diary; its owner was unknown. He wondered just how he got the diary and never got tired of reading it over and over again. In fact, it had become one of his daily activities. He read it before he got up from his bed, and read it before he closed his eyes to enter the dream world.
Silas was the name he chose for himself after losing everything. His parents had died to one of the first roaming rifts, an anomaly that didn't open in the sky or out on the street but inside their own home. One moment, their living room was quiet, the dull hum of the refrigerator mixing with his mother's laughter. Next, the air split open like glass under pressure. A vertical wound of pale light tore through the room, humming with a sound that wasn't exactly a sound, more like a feeling brushing the back of the skull.
Things moved inside it. Silhouettes that didn't match any creature he knew, limbs too long, motions too smooth, eyes that glimmered like submerged embers. His father tried to shield them, but the creatures surged forward with a predatory elegance, as if drawn by some invisible command. The attack was fast, almost surgical. A flash of claws, a blur of light, and then… silence.
And yet Silas stood in the center of the destruction, completely untouched. Not a scratch, not a bruise, not even a torn shirt. The creatures had ignored him, as though they couldn't see him, or worse, as if they recognized him and left him alone.
He was twelve then. The year was 2044, the world still wobbling on the edge of transformation, the apocalypse not yet in full bloom but already baring its teeth. Everything after that day felt like borrowed time; a long echo of a mystery he still hadn't solved.
After that day, he started changing. Most of the changes were through experience and growth, but the one that stood out the most was his hair. His hair had changed color from its original brown to pink.
At first, the changes were subtle, starting from the tips. Professionals said it was an effect of being too close to a rift, and it looks like they were right. But what Silas knew was that people who appeared close to rifts or survived these rifts awakened very strong abilities, with even the unluckiest of them awakening as an A-rank.
But here he was, the lowest of the low, not even an F-rank. He was almost 18 years, and still not awakened, while everyone in his class had awakened their abilities.
Before all this happened, Silas's family was a well-to-do one. They weren't outrightly rich or poor, but they had more than enough. After the incident, the government took him in and sent him to an orphanage, which turned out to be hell. He was bullied for his changing hair color.
The government once again came in and sent him to a boarding school, where he started in 7th Grade and is now in high school, in the same boarding school he was sent to, Valecrest Collegiate Grounds. And that is where he has been, up to now. He lived in a single room in the dormitory, a privilege only school prefects and the rich kids or prefects enjoyed, and he was none of the above. One could tell by how his room was. It wasn't small, but not large either. The only things he had were his bed, a small desk which held his class books, a small but old wardrobe, the kind you wouldn't even find in an antique store, and two pairs of old Nike sneakers, a black pair and a white pair.
To the side was an old blue curtain leading to his washroom. It was a normal washroom with a closet, a bath to the side, a cracked bathroom mirror, and a tilted sink that looked like it was on its last leg.
Getting off the creaking bed, Silas walked towards his washroom, scratching his butt a little and yawning loudly. He wore only a pair of tight black boxers that seemed even tighter around his little brother.
"I will have to get laid one of these days… But I can't even afford a condom, much less a sex worker…" Silas said as he pressed toothpaste onto his brush and started brushing his teeth. Looking in the mirror, he smiled like an idiot while muttering with foam in his mouth.
"These people are really blind. Just look at this face… devilishly handsome. No doubt!" If any of his mates were to see him now, they would give anything to not believe it. Silas a.k.a Pinky, smiling?
It was like saying that the apocalypse would happen last 6 years!
It was just unbelievable.
Silas was nicknamed Pinky for his pink hair. But that was as far as the bullying went, because even though he had still not awakened, he was among the top 5 strongest in his class and top 20 in the whole academy.
How was that possible?
Well, professionals said it was probably another effect of being close to a rift or something else, which needed investigation. The latter part was one of the main reasons why the government still cared for him… or so they made it appear. Not like he minded.
Experiencing that incident and consequent incidents, ranging from bullying to being duped, and many more at a young age, had changed Silas into a cold, calculating maniac on the outside. But on the inside, although he was a maniac, alright, he was more of a narcissist and comedian.
Aside from that, Silas was strong for a normal human, or so they thought he was. Only he knew what he really saw on that day and had his suspicions about his color changes and his almost superhuman strength.
"Will this guy get down?" Silas said after rinsing his mouth and looking at the massive bulge in his boxers. It had stretched the fabric so much that he feared it would rip out.
"I'm not even thinking about anything but my face, godammit!" He exclaimed as he hastily removed his boxers and stepped into the bath side of the room. He turned on the cold shower and stepped under it, releasing slow exhales to calm his body down.
"The boners have become very strong in these few days. What's really happening? Should I go see the nurse? No! What if she rapes me? But, she's kinda sexy… no!"
And that was the maniac Silas for you.
After 30 minutes in the bathroom, where he had no choice but to help himself to a release, Silas dried himself and put on his uniform, which was the only new thing among his countable property.
The uniform was a blue shirt with grey trousers and a white vest embroidered with the academy's crest. The crest sat neatly over the heart: a stylized silver stag standing atop a crescent of laurel leaves, a faint blue star glowing between its antlers. The thread caught light whenever a student moved, giving the emblem a dignified shimmer that matched the school's old, quietly proud reputation.
The whole outfit had that mix of tradition and ambition, like the school wanted its students to feel a little legendary every time they buttoned it up.
After tying the laces of his black sneakers, he packed his books, tucked the diary under his pillow, folded his blanket, and stepped out of the room, his backpack strapped on one shoulder.
It was another day, and Silas was expectant of what was to come. As for his actual, he never imagined using it again. Only if he knew how close he was to taking it back. After all, the name was his true identity and his power.
"Yo Pinky is here!" A loud, irritating voice shouted in a mocking tone, making Silas click his tongue in annoyance, but his face was expressionless.
Silas was already regretting ever expecting a nice day.