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

[Fun Fact about Boehuggers: They swallow their preys whole before offering them a warm hug from within. Quite a happy, once in a lifetime experience.]

No, Xavier didn't do hugs even when they were extensive. An inner hug? Now, that was too touchy feely and personal for his peace of mind.

In what seemed like an extension of his vision, a tiny holographic box displayed three bars: Red for HP, blue for MP and gold for GP. All of them were full, with their numerical ranges hanging beside them.

As if in a film slides, the stats about his skillset flowed through his mind, all of them managing to show up in the split second it took to get within range of the Boehugger. A plan knit up in his head and he had no time to waste before executing it. What's the thing they say about the nick of time? The nick of time in this case wasn't user friendly at all.

Chapter 101) Taming Boehuggers for the Inexperienced