Chapter 1: The Awakening

Hajime's new school, was a cesspool.

A disaster in many respects. More like a fourth-rate prison for [espers] and [mages] than an educational institution.

Everywhere there were signs of old battles and skirmishes, and even a few patches of dried blood scattered here and there.

Hajime's presence was immediately noticed, as if he had walked into a den of ferocious beasts; in fact, he had been thrown by his stepfather into a cage full of hungry tigers.

Before the blue-eyed boy could even get halfway across the courtyard, a small group of students approached him. Just like in prisons, "softening up" the newcomer was rule number one.

"Hello! You must be the new guy, right!?"

"(They want to test me, huh? For their misfortune, I'm in the right mood. There are only three of them; I can handle this.)"

Hajime had been a martial artist for years; his father had trained him since he was little, and he had never stopped training after his life had changed.

Physical exercise had developed his body, giving him a muscular and athletic physique, well-suited for fighting, but in the end, the silver-haired boy was still an ordinary human, stronger than average. He needed to be careful if he wanted to win in a three-on-one.

A preemptive strike was the best option; the boy who had been speaking fell to the ground on his back. Hajime's speed, combined with his strength and precision, knocked him out in an instant. A well-placed punch to the chin, and there were now only two left.

"Don't get cocky!"

"Asshole!"

The other two charged in. One generated flames from his hands, while the other created rocky fists, their outlines defined by a bluish energy.

"([Mage-Warriors], huh? This won't be easy.)"

With a solid resolve, Hajime took a defensive stance, ready to counter. The largest of the two stepped forward, throwing a punch reinforced with a layer of rock towards the silver-haired boy.

The punch passed to the left, grazing Hajime's cheek. With a fluid motion, the boy struck his opponent's knee with a well-placed kick, causing him to stagger. Taking advantage of the confusion, Hajime grabbed his opponent in a judo hold, throwing him towards the friend who was still charging his fire attack.

The contact was brutal. Both fell, dazed. Hajime breathed heavily, but he lowered his guard too soon. A ball of wind struck him from behind, tearing at his shirt and lacerating his skin.

"Don't be arrogant! As if an ordinary human could win against a [Mage]!"

With his back bleeding, Hajime tried to get back up, but the pain was unbearable. A foot pressed down on his wound, causing him to claw at the ground with his nails.

"This is your place! Remember it!"

Soon after, Hajime lost consciousness. The last thing he heard was the laughter of the other students and their insults.

A good first day for him.

An hour later, the new student of Howaitotaiga woke up in the infirmary. Or at least, what was supposed to be the infirmary; considering the hygiene of the place, it resembled a latrine more.

"Awake?"

The neutral, professional voice came from a man in his forties, with black hair, a tuft falling toward his forehead, and brown eyes. From the lab coat, it was clear he was the school doctor.

"I'm Mark, Mark Watson. I'm the school doctor. Your injuries weren't serious; you can leave if you want, although I advise you to..."

"How much did he pay you?"

Hajime wasn't stupid or naïve. Goto didn't want Kaori ever to find out about his wrongdoings towards his brother.

And now, here he was, in a school where everyone would try to "soften him up" every day for the next few years. What better way to hide his injuries than to have a healer paid by him?

"The classes have already started; you should go."

"Yes, I will."

No denial. Not that Hajime expected a response, so he didn't add anything else. As he left the room, he let out a deep sigh of frustration, a sigh that grew heavier when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, other students approaching him with threatening faces.

"(It's going to be a long day….)"

******Classes were over, and Hajime was walking through the streets after buying some painkillers at the pharmacy.

He had been beaten five times. Five times by three different groups of students. It would have been much fewer if the boy hadn't tried to seek revenge on his attackers; the silver-haired adolescent was stubborn, too stubborn for his own good.

Unfortunately, he had discovered that Mark's [magic] only alleviated pain for a few hours—a real nuisance.

"(Goto... I swear I'll make you pay!)"

To vent some of his repressed anger, Hajime decided to take a different route home.

He arrived at a construction site; if he wasn't mistaken, it was a future base for the [Black Corps]. The boy let out a loud sigh before starting to smash everything with a hammer he had found on the ground.

If Goto was untouchable, Hajime decided to aim at what surrounded him. Surely, his stepfather wouldn't care about a simple act of vandalism. Probably, the [White Corps], the island's police, would deal with it; he would never know. But Hajime's anger-fueled mind concentrated only on destroying everything connected to that man.

His fury was so intense that he did not notice the sounds of battle coming from the top floor of the building.

*Clash of blades*

"So? Is that all you can do with that weapon of yours? Pathetic!"

"Shut up! I'll wipe that arrogant smile off your face!"

Two figures were facing off. One wore a long tattered black cloak that covered clothes of the same color and a white skull mask. In his hands, he wielded a shiny, dark scythe.

The other figure was a [Black Corps]. Like every member of the group, he wore extremely expensive military gear, even though he was just a simple lackey. His face was young, with a grin that kept growing wider. In his hand, he held a sword enveloped in a cutting wind that seemed capable of slicing through steel.

The sounds of the fight reached Hajime's ears; the silver-haired boy looked up and saw the two battling. The sight of the swordsman's equipment made blood rush to his head.

Something changed within him.

Deep inside, the [grimorio] he had absorbed years ago began to awaken, unleashing green electric discharges.

Hajime immediately felt the transformation in his body, but for some strange reason, his anger had reached a level where it was impossible for him to think straight.

His grip on the hammer tightened to the point that the handle began to crack. In a near-homicidal fury, the boy uttered words he did not know, even though they seemed strangely familiar.

"[Overwrite: physical enhancement]!"

A myriad of green sparks enveloped the adolescent's body; his muscles expanded, and his bones became tougher. An almost infinite power began to circulate within him.

Using all that uncontrollable energy, Hajime launched the hammer with near-divine precision at the [Black Corps] member.

The object crossed the distance in an instant; the swordsman didn't even realize it was coming. By the time he sensed the danger, it was too late.

The makeshift weapon struck the young man in his most vulnerable spot. Not even the enhanced clothing from [magic] and modern science could cushion the impact; his [armor] lacked the necessary strength to mitigate the damage.

The sound of something breaking echoed in the air. The [Black Corps] member dropped his weapon, clutching the affected area as a scream of agony erupted from his lips.

"AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

His mind was filled with thoughts about how he would deal with the humiliation from that day on. It was impossible that such a blow hadn't rendered him helpless; fortunately or unfortunately, he wouldn't have to worry about that.

"Die!"

The scythe-wielding assassin swung down on him, decapitating him with ease. The head rolled away from the body, while a fountain of blood gushed from the neck. The skull-masked assassin looked down and saw a silver-haired boy lose consciousness, the electric discharges around his body fading away.

"Tsk, now it's your turn."

The assassin jumped down from the building effortlessly, embedding the scythe into the concrete to slow his fall. When he landed in front of Hajime, weapon ready for the killing blow, the skull mask halted due to a voice.

"Stop, you fool! He saved your life!"

The voice, distinctly feminine, came from above. A black-colored drone, with four propellers, hovered between them, blocking the blood-stained scythe.

"Tsk, shut up! We can't leave him like this after he saw me!"

"No, you won't kill him!"

"Then what do you expect me to do!? I'll take him to base!?"

"Yes, take him and return! The [White Corps] are coming!"

The assassin muttered a couple of curses before roughly grabbing Hajime's body and slinging it over his shoulder. In under a minute, his figure vanished into the shadows; by the time the island police arrived, the two were already far away.