Percy_Seacrest

What if you wake up on the morning of your fifteenth birthday to discover a system screen floating over your head? It means you are a Mystic, one of the hundred people born each year who have access to the Celestial system and powers of the universe.

What if when you go to get registered as a Mystic at their Academy you discover that all the slots are taken? There are already a hundred mystics in the system. You are a strange anomaly that has never happened in a billion years.

Well, you must be none other than Xavier Xerxes. The weird teenager who was bullied for his strange white skin, long snowy hair and pink eyes is now also a Mystic who shouldn't exist. It couldn't have gotten any worse for him.

Now he has to attend Celestial Academy to get basic training in leveling up and growing into the full potentials of his powers so he can slay demons and battle monsters from real to realm. He has the opportunity to grow from a human to an Immortal, saving the world along the way. Cool, right?

But there's one little problem. Xavier doesn't do anything that could pass off as stressful. No, he prefers to read books in the library. He loves to write stories and poems. He cries through romantic movies. He has never walked farther than a meter in his life. No sporting activity whatsoever. He hates violence.

Now they expect him to carry a sword. He is supposed to turn his body into a weapon of destruction, and his mind into a fortress of power. What the hell? 

How is he expected to survive a day at Celestial Academy when he has been home schooled since he was a child? How is he supposed to kill a bloodthirsty troll when he is scared of spiders? Exercise drills, push ups, war games...meditating? Never before in his life!

Right. We all have to wait and see. Hopefully he'll find a way not to die on the first day.

Celestial Academy of Mystics

Xavier lifted up his heavy and throbbing head to peer at the monster of a mystic hanging out with him in the chamber.

"Why what?" His voice was hoarse and weak, dry. His throat ached from thirst and daggers stabbed at the bowels of his stomach. Goodness, he could drink a river and devour an entire cow right now.

Quazer'Mort gave him a glare above a shoulder. The mystic had spent the last few minutes working at the altar, preparing something Xavier couldn't see. There'd been occasional outburst of flames and smoke so far.

"Why do you care about them?" He sounded equal part disgusted and curious.

Xavier's wrists were raw in the chains, and his arms hurt badly from being so spread apart for so long. He tried to move as little as possible as he spoke, but still had to pause often to catch his breath and surpress the pain.

Chapter 65) Dead Men Do Tell Tales II.