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

The small boy looked out through the round window of the carriage. The moment he opened the curtains, chilly air rushed in to battle with the little warmth inside, forcing him to close it quickly.

"Where are we going, father?" He asked innocently for the third time since they'd set out from the village a hundred or so miles back.

His father, a severe looking man with a narrow face and sleek black beard, didn't even spare him a glance.

"Is that fear I hear in your voice, Wolfclaw?" His voice sent a chill down the boy's spine, rivalling ghf effect of the wind.

He shivered. "I'm sorry, father. I'm not scared of anything. Whatever I need to do, the spirits of our forefathers will guide me to prevail."

The prominent jaws of the older man's face worked as he gritted them.

Chapter 74) Nightmares are Memories.