《Endborn & Dawnborn》


 ONE: Bridge

    Samuel sat on his cardboard box, chewing on his piece of bread with the enthusiasm of a man eating dust. It tasted like cardboard. Had the same texture too. But what else could he do? Starving wasn¡¯t exactly a better option.


    He took a deep breath and looked around. What a shit day. Everything was gray and dull, like even the sun had given up on this world. He felt like Samwise Gamgee climbing Mount Doom¡ªexcept there was no Frodo, no grand purpose, just the endless grind of survival.


    His life had never been simple. His parents had died protecting him, but why? Because Samuel was a Twelve. The power of a god in the body of a boy.


    In this world, people had abilities, ranked from one to twelve. The lower ranks? Support powers¡ªthink enhancers, tech-based abilities, minor elemental manipulation. Four through eight was where things got interesting: invisibility, telekinesis, advanced tactical gifts. Then came the real powerhouses¡ªeight to eleven¡ªthe heroes you saw on TV, the ones fighting monsters, saving cities.


    And then there were the Twelves. World-shakers.


    Only two were known: Atlas, the number one hero, who trained new generations and hunted the other Twelve. And Nox, the ultimate villain, a shadow hanging over the world.


    But now there were three.


    Atlas.


    Nox.


    And Samuel Sero.


    A kid who grew up in the finest orphanages money could buy¡ªand by ¡°finest,¡± he meant the kind filled with people who wished he didn¡¯t exist. The day he turned eighteen, they kicked him out. No surprises there. Orphanages didn¡¯t care once you stopped bringing in government subsidies.


    Samuel smirked dryly as he stared at the last piece of bread in his hand. The number one hero. The number one villain. And him? The number one homeless guy.


    He popped the rest into his mouth in one bite, brushed the crumbs off his clothes, and stretched. ¡°What a fantastic day for more shitty errands,¡± he muttered before setting off toward the city with a half-hearted bounce in his step.


    As he made his way to Mr. Affers, Samuel passed a few familiar faces¡ªfellow homeless. People with their own stories, their own personal hells. Some were addicts, sure, but not all. Not even most.


    Mrs. Johnson had lost her son at birth and never found the strength to move on. Mr. Gueves had come here searching for hope, a fresh start¡ªonly to find hatred and decay. Kip had grown up in a home full of fists and screaming and decided that sleeping on the streets was the better option.


    People always assumed the homeless were junkies. They had no idea how many of them were just broken.


    Samuel pushed the thought aside and threw his arms wide. ¡°Well, don¡¯t we look like a cheerful bunch! Everyone have a nice night?¡±


    A few muttered responses.


    He pulled an exaggerated grin. ¡°Wow! My bridge was delightfully warm last night.¡± He chuckled and kept walking, glancing back once. ¡°No day like today, folks! No day like today!¡±


    When he reached Mr. Affers¡¯ building, he paused, peering inside. A massive warehouse stacked with construction materials¡ªwood planks, concrete blocks, everything needed to build something new.


    Building blocks for feeding society¡¯s hatred of the homeless, Samuel thought bitterly.


    He muttered to himself, ¡°We¡¯re basically a Lego society. Always starting new projects, never looking back at what we tore down.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it quite like that, Sam¡­¡±


    Samuel turned. Mr. Affers was standing behind him.


    Affers was the perfect example of an ordinary man. Neatly dressed, wearing a slightly oversized white shirt tucked into his jeans. His glasses gave him a thoughtful look, and behind them were the kind of soft eyes only fathers had. He had two teenage kids and the tired expression of a man who told himself every night: Just one more episode...


    ¡°Back for another job?¡± Affers asked with a small smile.


    ¡°Gotta eat somehow. Can¡¯t exactly rob a bank, can I?¡±


    He could. With his power, no one would even notice. But he didn¡¯t want to be a criminal. He wanted to be a hero. So, he followed the rules.


    ¡°Need money. Two days, Affers. Then I¡¯m out of here.¡±


    Affers gave him that familiar look. The you¡¯ve been saying that for two weeks look.


    ¡°I mean it this time, Affers.¡±


    What Affers didn¡¯t know was that in exactly two days, the world¡¯s top hero universities would open their doors to new students. Not just universities¡ªhero academies.


    Valcroy Academy, the closest one, was in the United States. The place where Atlas, the number one hero, had once trained¡ªand where he now taught as a guest instructor.


    Azmora Institute, in Geneva, stood right next to the headquarters of the Global Heroes Association. A breeding ground for strategists, peacekeepers, and some of the sharpest minds in the world.


    Shouren Academy, deep in Japan, was infamous for its ruthless training programs. Not a place for the weak, but those who survived it became legends.


    And then there was Arkwright Academy in London¡ªthe Cambridge of the hero world. Elites, inventors, and tactical masterminds.


    He did notice that South America was quite underrepresented in the field of Hero Universities.


    These were the big four. There were smaller schools, sure, but Samuel didn¡¯t care about those. He had one goal: Valcroy Academy.


    Because that¡¯s where Atlas was. The only one who could help him control his power.


    "But!" Samuel leaned in slightly. "I need real money, Affers. I¡¯ve got enough for a train ticket, but that¡¯s it." He kept it vague on purpose. "I still need to buy some clean clothes and food. Got anything big? I¡¯ll do what needs to be done."


    He pulled a disgusted face. "Except, you know¡­ dirty things."


    Affers raised an eyebrow. "What do you take me for, Samuel? Someone who uses people like that?"


    "You make me do shit jobs for half of what you¡¯d pay a regular worker. Like it or not, glasses-man, you¡¯re exactly that kind of guy."


    "Well, excuse me," Affers said in that typical fatherly tone. "But yeah, I¡¯ve got something. A big construction company is picking up concrete slabs today. Heavy job, getting those into the trailer. You can use the hoist¡ªit should be easy enough for you. I need to get the paperwork sorted this morning, so it¡¯d be great if you handled it. Hiring someone for it would cost me a fortune."


    He sounded a little guilty¡ªprobably because of what Samuel had just said¡ªbut then shrugged it off.


    "I¡¯ll pay you fifty an hour, and it should take about four hours. So, two hundred total."


    Samuel thought for a second. "And what if I finish faster?"


    Affers raised a brow. "You think you can do it in less than four hours?"


    Samuel grinned, challenging. "Who knows? Maybe I¡¯m a natural."


    Affers snorted, considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "If you get it done in two hours, I¡¯ll give you fifty percent extra. That¡¯s three hundred. That way, I can call them to pick it up sooner."


    Samuel gave him a thumbs-up and started walking toward the worksite. "Oh, before I forget¡ªAffers, your laces are untied."


    Instinctively, Affers glanced down. "They¡¯re not¡ª"


    Samuel burst out laughing. "Nope, but I did make you look."


    Muttering under his breath, Affers headed toward his office while Samuel got to work.


    When he reached the crane, he turned the key in the ignition, letting the machine start up. Then, he threw a quick glance at Affers, who was buried in his paperwork. Quietly, Samuel let himself drop to the ground and began stacking the concrete slabs into the trailer¡ªeffortlessly.


    Once he was done, he left the machine running and stared into the distance, lost in thoughts about Lord of the Rings. The only good thing in his life at the moment.


    After an hour, Affers stepped out of his office and froze. He looked at Samuel, then at the fully loaded trailer, then back at Samuel.


    ¡°You¡¯re done? But how?¡±


    ¡°Natural talent. Impeccable physique. A dazzling display of skills,¡± Samuel said with a wide grin.


    Affers stared at the trailer for a few seconds, sighed, and shuffled away. A moment later, he returned with a thick stack of cash.


    ¡°I¡¯m calling them now to pick it up. This earns me a nice bonus. So here¡ªyou earned it.¡±


    He handed Samuel three hundred and fifty dollars.


    With his freshly earned money, Samuel turned to leave. At the last second, he paused, held out a hand to Affers.


    ¡°Thanks for all the jobs, Affers. You helped me keep food on the table and get things sorted.¡±


    Affers pretended it meant nothing, but his eyes lingered just a moment too long. A small hesitation. A flicker of pride.


    ¡°No problem, kid. You seemed like a good one, and I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d feel if my kids were in your shoes.¡±


    Samuel nodded, turned, and wandered toward the nearest dollar store.


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    Inside, the air smelled of cheap plastic and stale fabric. The fluorescent lights cast everything in a washed-out glow, like even the store had given up on life. Samuel¡¯s gaze drifted over the shelves as he grabbed a few basics.


    ¡°A hoodie, a pair of pants, a shirt, and some socks and underwear¡­ should be enough,¡± he muttered.


    With everything bundled in his arms, he headed to the counter and dropped it all onto the register.


    The cashier, a woman with tired eyes and a worn-out sweater, barely glanced at him as she started scanning. ¡°No discounts, just full price.¡±


    Samuel snorted. ¡°You say that ¡®cause I stink?¡± He met her gaze, unflinching. ¡°Live your life, girl. Worry about something else.¡±


    Her fingers hesitated over the register. Eyes that suddenly didn¡¯t dare meet his. She swallowed, grabbed a plastic bag. ¡°Thirteen dollars.¡±


    Samuel knew how this worked. People ran their mouths until someone pushed back. He pulled a twenty from his pocket, waited for his change, and walked out without a second glance.


    In an alley, he stripped off his old clothes and put on the new ones. The cold bit at his skin, the asphalt damp and grimy under his bare feet as he hurried to get his socks on. No shower today. No time.


    Before heading to the station, he made one last stop by his fellow homeless. Slipped a few of them a dollar. Gave Mrs. Johnson a nod, and she offered him a small smile. Clapped Kip on the shoulder.


    Then he turned and made his way toward the train station.


    Time to go.


    At the entrance, he paused, watching the steady flow of people coming and going. Eyes locked forward, hurried steps, trapped in their own three-by-three-meter worlds¡ªa phrase he¡¯d once heard in a show. No one really looked around. No one saw him.


    Except when they smelled him, of course. And yeah, he reeked. Not exactly something he was proud of.


    A cloud of smoke billowed from the trains, curling around the platforms as if the engines themselves were calling to him. Time to go. Come on.


    It felt hollow.


    Even in the middle of a crowd, he was no one. Just another shadow in the background of their lives.


    Samuel made his way to one of the ticket counters. Since he only had cash, buying online wasn¡¯t an option. Once there, he leaned against the counter and flashed a wide grin at the man behind the glass.


    "I¡¯d like to request a ride on your finest carriage. From the humble Knoxville to the grand and mighty New York."


    The man¡ªdressed in a stiff suit but sporting an unkempt beard and a body that had seen a little too much fast food¡ªgave him a dead-eyed stare. Clearly not his first customer of the day. Samuel doubted he had ever been enthusiastic about his job.


    "Knoxville to New York. That¡¯ll be 143.50. Takes about seventeen hours."


    Samuel had expected it to be expensive, but the number still stung. He reluctantly counted out the cash and slid it under the glass. In return, he received a stack of tickets and a confirmation slip.


    "Your first train leaves in an hour and a half. Platform seven."


    Samuel nodded, grabbed the tickets, and gave the man an exaggerated round of applause. "Flawlessly executed! Truly spectacular!"


    The man didn¡¯t even blink.


    Chuckling, Samuel turned and wandered aimlessly through the station until he found an empty bench.


    People-watching¡ªalways a solid way to kill time. In his head, he gave them ridiculous names and made up even more ridiculous backstories. The guy with the briefcase? Secret agent who moonlighted as a magician. The woman juggling five coffee cups? Probably a dragon in disguise¡ªcaffeine was just the human equivalent of hoarding gold.


    Then his gaze landed on a bookstore further down the station.


    Samuel shot up and walked over, eyes scanning the shelves the moment he stepped inside.


    At the fantasy section, his fingers trailed over the book spines as he muttered under his breath, "Please, please, please..."


    And there it was.


    Lord of the Rings.


    Samuel picked it up, turning it over in his hands, feeling the weight, the texture of the pages¡ªthe promise of adventure. His eyes flicked to the price.


    Forty dollars.


    ¡°Expensive, but so worth it!¡± he nearly shouted.


    Grinning like an idiot, he strode to the register, practically bouncing on his feet like a kid who just got candy. As he handed over the money, the cashier gave him a weird look.


    Fair. He was eighteen, had just dropped a small fortune on a book, and was acting like a total lunatic.


    But he had Lord of the Rings.


    So, who cared?


    Back on his bench, he sank down and flipped it open. The Lord of the Rings. His favorite story. Tolkien had a way with words¡ªhe painted worlds with ink, wove history into every sentence. A true artist. A wizard of language. A hero of words.


    An hour and fifteen minutes later, he stood up and headed toward his train.


    The ticket inspector stood at the entrance.


    "Hello, fine ticket-snipper! Beautiful day, isn¡¯t it?" Samuel said cheerfully, handing over his ticket.


    The man raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Conductor. That¡¯s the proper title, kid."


    Samuel just grinned and walked inside. He found an empty compartment¡ªnot that anyone would willingly sit next to him anyway¡ªand collapsed into the seat with his book.


    The train jolted, came to life, and pulled out of the station.


    Samuel kept reading, lost in Middle-earth, until an hour later, he finally looked up.


    The trip was a straight shot to Washington D.C., where he¡¯d have to transfer to a bus.


    He stared at the cabin door, letting his imagination run wild. Just like Harry Potter... what if, right now, a Hermione and Ron walked in?


    He pictured Hermione waving her wand and saying, "Pif, paf, poof. Now you don¡¯t smell like hoof."


    But no one came in.


    Samuel sighed and went back to reading.


    The train ride was long. And boring. Tedious. Awful. Stiff. Wooden. Gray. Not fun. And about a dozen other things that ran through his mind.


    He had tried everything to keep himself occupied. Reading. Doing push-ups. Singing the alphabet. Making up riddles¡ªwhich turned out to be surprisingly difficult without a phone. Eventually, he just gave up and slept.


    The following morning the train arrived in Washington D.C.


    As he stepped off the train, he did it dramatically, as if he were in a musical, arriving at the city where he truly belonged. Just as he was about to break into a grand opening number, he stopped, exhaled, and said just one word:


    "Boring."


    Then he made his way to the bus station and handed over his next ticket.


    "Sir, how long is this trip? Am I about to suffer through another eternity of boredom?"


    The bus driver gave him a slow, considering look before answering, completely deadpan, "Once we start driving, I¡¯ll come sit next to you. We¡¯ll play Yahtzee."


    Samuel blinked. "But¡­ I stink?"


    The man nodded, pulled a can of deodorant out of his bag, and handed it to him.


    "Spray this on, and I¡¯ll be right over."


    Samuel looked at the deodorant. Then back at the man.


    "Who are you?" Samuel asked dramatically before letting out an exaggerated sigh and stepping onto the bus.


    Not long after, the bus pulled away, beginning its journey to New York. Samuel stared out the window. Every second brought him closer to his new future.


    His school wasn¡¯t in New York, just the recruitment center, but that didn¡¯t matter. This was the first step.


    Finally belonging somewhere.


    Finally having a place.


    Making friends.


    A roof over his head.


    His fingers unconsciously traced the edge of his book. It felt unreal.


    A little while later, the bus driver sat down next to him.


    Samuel turned to him, eyes wide in horror.


    "But¡­ but if you¡¯re here¡­ WHO¡¯S DRIVING THE BUS?!" he shouted dramatically.


    Several passengers shot upright, panic flashing across their faces.


    The man quickly waved them down. "Relax, relax! I¡¯m a backup driver, drama queen."


    Samuel leaned back, grinning. "Are you always this serious?"


    "Are you always this annoying?" the man shot back.


    "Gotta survive somehow," Samuel said dryly. "Can¡¯t exactly rely on my charming scent."


    And so, they played Yahtzee. Samuel had never played before, but the driver patiently explained the rules, and they played just for fun.


    Samuel, however, turned out to be a natural at trash talking.


    "Not surprised," he said smugly. "You¡¯re a bus driver. You live among the people. You hear everyone talking shit. You had to learn how to talk shit back."


    The man shot him a cynical grin. "That scent of yours doesn¡¯t exactly scream ¡®privileged upbringing,¡¯ so shut your smart mouth, kid."


    Samuel chuckled to himself. He liked this guy.


    Kid, huh? He was anything but. He stood at one meter ninety-five¡ªhis height straight from his father. Dutch genes. His mother had pulled him down a little with her one meter sixty frame. Small woman. Mexican.


    Thinking about her brought a flicker of warmth¡ªone that quickly twisted into something else.


    Loneliness.


    Soon, he¡¯d be standing there, surrounded by other eighteen-year-olds. Parents dropping off their kids with pride, hugs, and encouraging words.


    And him?


    He¡¯d be alone. Again.


    Eventually, Samuel decided to nap. He had played plenty of Yahtzee with the driver, and the man had eventually left to switch places with his colleague.


    It wasn¡¯t long before he was shaken awake.


    "Hey, kid. We¡¯re here."


    Samuel shot upright without restraint, grabbed his book, and leaped off the bus.


    "Thanks for the ride!" he called back over his shoulder.


    He barely registered how fast he moved. Not ridiculously fast, but just a fraction faster than a normal person. Hopefully, no one noticed.


    His powers made everything easy. Super speed. Super strength. Super endurance. And super flight.


    The "super" before flight was his own addition¡ªotherwise, it didn¡¯t feel complete.


    Now, keeping his pace deliberately controlled, he walked toward the recruitment center.


    A massive building, established through a joint effort between the government and the hero academies.


    This was it.


    The big, the small, the mid-tier schools¡ªthey all sent scouts here, looking for fresh talent.


    And Samuel?


    He could walk right in. No barriers. No limits.


    No more waiting.


    He had his power card, after all.


    It said he was an eleven.


    Nonsense, of course. But good enough to get in.


    When he turned twelve, like everyone else, he was tested. July 6, 2018. The day it all officially started. The day he was sent to the testing center.


    The tester had looked at him. Too long.


    "Do you really want that kind of attention?" the man had asked.


    Samuel had begged him to lower it by one point.


    The man had given in. Manually adjusted it.


    His official card now read:


    Samuel Sero


    Born: July 6, 2006


    Powers: flight, super strength, super speed, super endurance


    Power level: 11


    It would be enough to catch the universities'' attention.


    There were only two known twelves. But elevens? Hundreds.


    As he reached the building, he looked up. The dome-like structure loomed above him. Inside, the real tests would begin¡ªdisaster simulations, combat trials, power evaluations.


    By the entrance, a tablet was counting down.


    17 hours, 2 minutes.


    ¡°The doors open at eight, then,¡± he muttered.


    Then he stopped.


    ¡°I need to stop talking to myself. People are going to start thinking I¡¯m the fucking Joker.¡±


    His eyes scanned the plaza. Empty.


    Except¡­


    A tent.


    What the hell was a tent doing here?


    He walked over and knocked on the fabric. Inside, something rattled. The zipper slid open.


    A girl looked at him. Eighteen, silver hair, glasses that fit perfectly.


    She looked unimpressed.


    ¡°Hello,¡± she said.


    ¡°Hello,¡± he echoed. ¡°So, uh¡­ what are you doing here? Camping? Going fishing?¡± He frowned, blinking at her.


    She stared at him like he was an idiot. ¡°I¡¯m here for the university recruitment process.¡± She pointed at the door. ¡°Currently, I have sixteen hours and fifty-nine minutes left before the doors open. To maintain an optimal rest cycle, I require sufficient sleep. So I set up a tent and am waiting here.¡±


    She pushed her glasses up her nose. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    Samuel blinked at her, expression blank. ¡°Same. But without the tent.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not optimal.¡±


    ¡°No, not really.¡± He gave her a questioning look. ¡°Mind if I sit next to your tent and wait?¡±


    She glanced around, then at her tent. ¡°My tent is designed for exactly two people. Your height and build won¡¯t be an issue, as I accounted for a scenario in which two, al be it short, candidates might arrive early. Theoretically, you could sleep next to me and avoid the cold. Additionally, we would retain body heat and wake up more rested.¡±


    Samuel raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you asking me to sleep in your tent?¡± He narrowed his eyes. ¡°Isn¡¯t that¡­ kind of¡­ something you¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± she interrupted, her gaze analyzing him. ¡°You¡¯re referring to the social construct in which men and women have a tendency toward emotional bonding and sexual intercourse when sleeping in close proximity?¡±


    Samuel stared at her in silence.


    ¡°While you are physically attractive,¡± she continued, completely deadpan, ¡°you are not an optimal candidate for my ideal partner. Therefore, my calculation is that we can share the tent without concern for any sexual activity between us.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Samuel said dryly.


    He stepped inside, immediately noticing how soft the ground was. He looked up. ¡°Did you drag mattresses here? So you could sleep comfortably?¡±


    She glanced at him while zipping up the tent. ¡°No. To optimize my time management, I hired a homeless man to set it up. In exchange, I promised him the tent and mattresses tomorrow¡ªprovided he picks them up at exactly 7:45 AM. That way, I don¡¯t have to clean up, and someone gets a warmer sleeping space.¡±


    Samuel stared at her.


    She had no idea he had been homeless.


    His respect for her skyrocketed a thousand percent in a single second.


    She held out her hand. ¡°I¡¯m Lynn, by the way. Social etiquette dictates that we should at least know each other¡¯s names and converse for an hour to confirm neither of us is a psychopath before sleeping in the same space.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Samuel said again.


    He let himself sink onto the mattress and stared at the fabric of the tent above him.


    "This is going to be a long day."


    ? Ruben Poelen, 2024. All rights reserved.


    This work, Endborn & Dawnborn, including all text, characters, and worldbuilding, is the intellectual property of Ruben Poelen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or articles.


    Unauthorized use, copying, or distribution of this work is strictly prohibited.

 TWO: Demonstration

    Samuel woke up with a restless feeling. This was it. The day he had to prove himself.


    Next to him, Lynn was already sitting upright, her fingers flying across her tablet with almost inhuman speed. He had never seen anyone type so aggressively.


    ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± she said flatly.


    She stood up, unzipped the tent, and slung her backpack over her shoulder without sparing him another glance.


    Samuel stayed there for a moment, letting himself exist in the quiet. He had still slept on the ground, but it was better than before. No cold pavement. No icy bridge above his head. He had a mattress. A tent. A place.


    And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªa first connection.


    Something that had always felt like an impossible step had happened naturally. Small. Effortless.


    But anything good could crumble if the foundation wasn¡¯t strong.


    He stepped out of the tent and stretched, his thoughts flashing to the only memory he had of his parents. Not an image. Not voices. Just words.


    A note left behind by whoever had taken him to the orphanage.


    "Your father was a good man, and your mother was a beautiful, strong woman. Live by their words: you don¡¯t fight evil with strength, but with humor."


    He took a deep breath. Time to put that into practice.


    ¡°Hey Lynn, weird question, do you have¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, she was already holding something out. A pair of earbuds and a phone, as if she had read his mind.


    He blinked in surprise. ¡°How did you¡­?¡±


    Lynn glanced up from her tablet and gave the smallest smile. ¡°My power is calculating probabilities, Samuel. Statistics don¡¯t lie.¡±


    He took the earbuds and phone from her. ¡°Thanks¡­¡±


    A small piece of that hollow feeling melted away. Someone had done something for him. Not out of obligation. Not out of pity. Just because. That was new.


    He glanced around. The scene had changed. Where there was once empty space, now stood a sea of people. Eighteen-year-olds with their parents, with sponsors, with trainers. Kids who had come alone but were still dressed sharp. No one here had that homeless vibe. No one here was like him.


    Above the entrance, the clock counted down. Three minutes left.


    He put in the earbuds and cranked the music to screw-it-all volume.


    "APT. ¨C ROS¨¦, Bruno Mars now playing."


    He grinned. Time to make an impression.


    Without shame, he started dancing his way up the steps. He felt the stares¡ªparents, students, trainers¡ªbut he didn¡¯t care. This was his moment.


    ¡°GAMBE GAMBE WASSUP!¡± he shouted, spinning mid-step, moving like his life depended on it.


    Faces shifted from shock to amusement. Some tried to hold in their laughter. Others gave up and laughed outright.


    Right at the final chorus, the doors opened.


    With a last dramatic move, Samuel sprinted up the steps, threw his hand in the air, and shouted at the perfect moment:


    "Apateu, apateu, uh, uh-huh, uh-huh (just meet me at the¡ª)"


    Dead silence.


    People really stared at him now.


    Samuel shrugged.


    \Whatever. He¡¯d figure it out.


    He had made a good chunk of them laugh.


    His first heroic act.


    Making future heroes laugh.


    <hr>


    As Samuel walked into the building with the crowd, he couldn¡¯t help but grin. Now everyone knew he was here. That made him a target¡ªfor some. The elite types who didn¡¯t like jokes. The ones filled with nothing but hate, just looking for a direction to aim it.


    His eyes flicked across the room, scanning the space, before heading toward the registration desk.


    As he moved through the crowd, he noticed someone shuffling behind him.


    He turned.


    Lynn.


    Samuel studied her for a second, then took out his earbuds and handed back the phone. ¡°Here, don¡¯t need them anymore,¡± he said, hugging his Lord of the Rings book a little closer. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re following me right?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then why, Lynn?¡±


    She looked at him through her glasses. A brief reflection flashed across the lenses. ¡°You did something I didn¡¯t account for. That¡¯s unusual. An anomaly. That makes you interesting.¡±


    Samuel couldn¡¯t resist. He gave her an exaggerated bow, then straightened with a dramatic flourish, like some aristocrat from a bygone era. ¡°Expected something different from me?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He put on a mock-offended look. ¡°Wow, Lynn. Sometimes it¡¯s okay to lie just a little.¡±


    Lynn looked at him blankly. ¡°Lying has no added value in a conversation like this. So, I see no function for it.¡±


    ¡°People must ask if you¡¯re autistic a lot,¡± Samuel said, this time genuinely curious.


    Lynn seemed to consider it. ¡°In 42.5 percent of my interactions, someone has asked in some way. So, your hypothesis is likely correct.¡±


    ¡°Why do you talk like this? Why are you so focused on statistics?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my power,¡± Lynn said.


    That¡¯s when it clicked. She had mentioned it before, but he had never taken it literally.


    ¡°Your power is¡­ being smart?¡±


    ¡°Genius-level tactical analysis and probabilistic calculations,¡± Lynn corrected. ¡°But in short, you could say I¡¯m designed for calculated decisions. A tactical analyst.¡±


    Samuel stared at her. ¡°What power level is that? Can you actually fight with it, or are you more on the support side?¡±


    For the first time, she did something unexpected. She casually flipped her hair and pulled her tablet closer, a rare display of pride.


    ¡°I want to be a hero, not a support unit. With my power, I can observe anyone and make the right decisions to ensure victory. It might not seem like a combat ability, but it¡¯s actually perfect for it. My power level is 10.3.¡±


    There she is, Samuel thought.


    He turned back toward the registration desk, fully aware that Lynn was still following him, fingers flying across her tablet without pause.


    When he reached the counter, he looked up at the woman behind it.


    She wasn¡¯t like the cashier from the dollar store. Her expression was friendly, but sharp. And Samuel didn¡¯t like that.


    People often looked at him with scrutiny.


    But she?


    She looked through him.


    Like she could see right past the attitude, the jokes, the bravado¡ªstraight to the part of him that didn¡¯t believe he was worth much at all.


    "Power identification, name, financial status, living situation, guardian, and any other information you wish to share," the woman said with that same soft but unrelenting gaze.


    Samuel cast a quick glance around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear. A small wave of relief washed over him when he saw that Lynn had stopped behind the large sign that read: "Wait here until it¡¯s your turn."


    Then he turned back to the woman and handed her his power identification.


    For a moment, he hesitated.


    This was it.


    His name¡ªthe only thing he still had from his parents.


    His situation¡ªthe truth he had spent so long being ashamed of.


    But the world wouldn¡¯t stay gray forever. This was his chance to find the change he needed.


    Straightening his shoulders, he flashed a broad, confident grin. "Name¡¯s Samuel Sero!"


    The woman took his card and scanned it. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, but her face remained warm and composed. She handed it back.


    "Alright, Samuel. What¡¯s your financial status, living situation, guardian, and any other relevant information?"


    He ran a hand through his hair and let out a dry laugh. "I, uh¡­ am about as broke as a person can get. Been living under a bridge in Knoxville. No parents, no guardian. That¡¯s about it. Real Spider-Man origin story¡ªexcept he at least had a house," he added thoughtfully.


    The woman smiled, kind but knowing. "No need to worry, Samuel. Starting today, things will likely change for you. You¡¯re an eleven¡ªthe schools will be eager to have you. And as for your other¡­" she paused briefly, her expression softening, "challenges¡ªonce you''re accepted by a school, you¡¯ll immediately receive a salary. The school will explain why. The amount depends on where you end up, but it won¡¯t be lower than thirty thousand dollars a year."


    Samuel exhaled sharply through his nose. Thirty thousand. He could stretch that forever.


    The woman continued, ¡°You can proceed through the door behind me. Once inside, everyone will see who you are and what your abilities are. Schools are only allowed to recruit after you¡¯ve given a demonstration. You can decide when to do that. For example, you might want to gather information about the schools first.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    She looked at him¡ªjust a fraction longer than necessary. A hint.


    ¡°After your demonstration, any school can approach you. Good luck.¡±


    She slid a wristband across the counter. The moment Samuel touched it, it curled snugly around his wrist.


    Time to enter the hall of scouts.


    Samuel walked up to the door and scanned his band. A soft beep sounded, and the doors slid open.


    A bright light spilled from inside¡ªalmost heavenly, like the world itself was telling him that this was the moment everything would change.


    He stepped in.


    The space was massive.


    Athletic tracks stretched into the distance, state-of-the-art testing equipment flickered with holographic displays, strength measurement machines stood ready for demonstrations. Above, the ceiling was open, a free-air corridor for those who could fly.


    And everywhere¡ªpeople.


    The suits. Men and women in sharp business attire, constantly on the phone, likely in direct contact with universities.


    The candidates. Hundreds of eighteen-year-olds scattered across the hall. Some browsing tables filled with brochures about the different schools, others already deep in conversation with recruiters.


    Samuel scanned the room.


    And then he saw it.


    Valcroy Academy.


    The recruiters stood by their table; their posture almost bored. No one was talking to them. They didn¡¯t seem in a hurry to approach anyone either.


    Samuel took a step in their direction, but before he could move any further, Lynn appeared beside him.


    ¡°Valcroy?¡± Her fingers were already moving across her tablet. ¡°Exactly what I anticipated and calculated.¡±


    Samuel turned to her. ¡°And where are you going, Miss Genius?¡±


    ¡°Valcroy.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°You too?¡± A wide grin spread across his face. ¡°Guess we have to stick together then. A ready-made school buddy.¡±


    Casual. Like it didn¡¯t matter.


    But deep down, he hoped she¡¯d say yes.


    For the first time in his life, maybe he¡¯d have a friend.


    Lynn glanced up from her screen, analyzing him. ¡°Humans are herd animals, so your hypothesis is correct, Samuel. While your jokes do not demonstrate optimal behavior, I also calculate that staying together would be beneficial.¡±


    Samuel chuckled. So that¡¯s how she says yes, huh.


    And together, they walked toward Valcroy¡¯s table.


    The recruiters looked up as Samuel and Lynn approached, but none of them seemed eager to speak first. Samuel sifted through the flyers, scanning for information. The school seemed massive, but nowhere did it explicitly say where it was located.


    A soft beep sounded. A moment later, a voice filled the air above the table.


    ¡°Samuel Sero, 11, superhuman physicality.¡±


    A brief silence followed before the voice spoke again.


    ¡°Lynn Effan, 10, genius-level tactical analysis.¡±


    The people at the table immediately sprang to life. Their earlier disinterest vanished as they moved toward them.


    A striking red-haired woman stepped up to Samuel, while a broad, muscular man turned to Lynn.


    ¡°Found what you were looking for?¡± the redhead asked with a smile.


    Samuel gave her a cynical look. ¡°You were sitting back all relaxed, but the moment I turn out to be an eleven, you jump up? Seriously? You guys the gold diggers of superheroes? Herodiggers?¡±


    The woman laughed, eyes flashing with amusement. ¡°No, nothing like that. At Valcroy, we consider everyone, regardless of their power level. But they have to pass our advanced screening system first. Once your name is called, it means you made it through.¡±


    Samuel raised an eyebrow. ¡°And what exactly does this system do? Take over the world when no one¡¯s looking?¡±


    She laughed again. ¡°No, no. It analyses your movements, your facial expressions¡ªeverything you¡¯ve done since stepping inside. It determines whether you fit our culture. And apparently, you do.¡±


    Samuel nodded. Fine. As long as they made him an offer in the end.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see where your school is located. Is it far from here?¡±


    The redhead gave him a strange look, as if he had just crawled out from under a bridge. Which, ironically, he had¡ªmaking the moment pretty hilarious to him.


    ¡°The location of our school is classified. No one without the proper security clearance is allowed to know.¡±


    ¡°Got it. I¡¯m gonna go do my demonstration. I¡¯ve heard enough.¡±


    He glanced around to see if Lynn was free, and as expected, she appeared at the perfect moment.


    "You want to watch my demonstration so you can analyze me, don¡¯t you?"


    "Correct," she said flatly.


    Together, they walked toward the demonstration area.


    On the way, something stood out to Samuel.


    All around them, eighteen-year-olds chatted excitedly. This was the day they had been waiting for. The day they could finally hang up their jackets, throw on their capes, and start playing hero. The energy was almost celebratory.


    But for Samuel, it felt different.


    This wasn¡¯t just a stepping stone. It was his chance to prove himself. His parents had died to protect him. He couldn¡¯t let that be for nothing.


    By the time they reached the demonstration counter, he was more than ready.


    Behind the desk stood a broad-shouldered man with dark gray hair and a stare that could make a person freeze on the spot.


    "So, grandpa," Samuel said casually.


    A small circle of space instantly formed around him as nearby candidates subtly took a step back.


    "The demonstration¡ªwhat¡¯s the deal? Simulations? Requirements? Just say the word!"


    The man stared at him, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Grandpa?"


    "Uh¡­ my bad! You¡¯re right. Grandfather?" Samuel looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.


    The man let out a slow, heavy sigh. At his side, Lynn quietly typed something into her tablet.


    "The demonstration is simple," the man said at last. "Do whatever you think will impress the scouts. The schools are watching. They¡¯ll recruit based on what they see. Free game."


    Samuel¡¯s eyes scanned the room. Impress them. Put on a show.


    His gaze landed on the weightlifting section. A grin crept over his face.


    "Alright, alright. Got it. Time to get to work."


    He glanced at Lynn. ¡°Don¡¯t follow me, okay? Not until I¡¯m done. For your own safety and all.¡±


    Lynn simply nodded and noted something down on her tablet.


    Is she writing my memoir or something? he thought.


    Samuel strode toward the weights. The lineup started small¡ªten kilos¡ªand gradually climbed into the hundreds of tons. The higher the weight, the stranger the metal looked. The heaviest ones weren¡¯t even dumbbells anymore¡ªjust massive, reinforced metal spheres designed to be lifted overhead.


    At the two-hundred-ton mark, a sign was attached:


    "Heavy for Level 11. Do not use without supervision."


    Samuel chuckled to himself. Yeah, this should get their attention.


    He crouched, placed his hands under the weight, and lifted.


    For the audience, he acted like it took effort. But in reality? It wasn¡¯t much worse than carrying groceries.


    His footsteps rumbled through the hall.


    Lynn was the first to look over. Then the instructor beside her. Then the scouts. Then the other candidates, their conversations fading as they turned to watch.


    Each step echoed like a drumbeat.


    Samuel had scaled his strength down to match an eleven. Now, it actually felt heavy. Sweat beaded on his forehead, rolled down his temple, dripped from his chin. But he kept going. Slow. Controlled. He carried the weight to the center of the hall.


    Under everyone¡¯s eyes.


    And yet, despite all of them watching¡ªhe knew he was still doing this alone.


    He scanned the area, searching for a hook strong enough to hold the weight. It was made from the same reinforced metal.


    Whispers rippled through the crowd.


    ¡°What is he doing?¡±


    ¡°Why is he tying a rope?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s insanely strong!¡±


    ¡°Not like Atlas, but still!¡±


    With the hook secured, Samuel started to fly.


    Slowly, he ascended, the rope pulled taut. An eleven¡¯s strength¡ªbelievable. He clenched his jaw, making it look like he was reaching his limit. Bit by bit, the weight lifted from the ground.


    The room held its breath.


    Scouts grabbed their phones. Every eye was locked on him as the massive weight rose higher.


    Below, they stood in shadow.


    A metaphor, Samuel thought. I¡¯m leading them toward the light. Alone. No one beside me.


    From above, they could see him rising, but the higher he went, the larger the shadow beneath him grew. People disappeared into it, swallowed by the darkness he created with his weight.


    A sign.


    Time to descend.


    His doubts vanished with that thought. He quickened his descent but placed the weight back onto the ground with precision.


    Dead silence.


    Everyone stared.


    They had just witnessed something rare. An eleven in action¡ªnot even knowing he was a twelve. A pure display of power.


    Someone swallowed audibly. The silence cracked.


    "Interesting," Lynn said flatly.


    That seemed to be the trigger the scouts needed.


    In a fraction of a second, they shot up, shouting into their phones. Chaos.


    He had caused this.


    The thought crawled under his skin. Is this what my power does? Does it create chaos?


    He unhooked the rope and brought it back.


    Then he lifted the massive metal sphere again and returned it to its place¡ªonce more acting as if it took effort.


    Only when he stood up did he notice it.


    Everyone was watching.


    Not directly, not openly, but subtly. The eighteen-year-olds whispered excitedly to their friends, their parents, their trainers. The scouts barked into their phones. Who knew what they were saying?


    But no one came up to him.


    No congratulations. No pats on the back. No acknowledgment.


    Until Lynn.


    Without a word, she walked over and stood beside him. Not celebratory, not supportive. Just there.


    But her presence was real, attending, friendly.


    And that was enough.


    <hr>


    Samuel stuck close to Lynn for the rest of the day, trailing behind her with an exaggerated serious expression, fake tablet in hand. He made dramatic notes, furrowed his brows like he was deep in thought, and nodded sagely at nothing in particular.


    At first, she ignored him completely. But eventually, he caught the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth.


    Her demonstration was flawless.


    The simulation tested her ability to read an opponent¡¯s intentions in a split second. And what did she do? She shut them down using their own mistakes.


    Samuel already knew: Lynn was dangerous.


    She didn¡¯t look strong, but she tore through some of the simulations. Not just with strategy but with pure, calculated force. A few well-placed strikes, and her opponents were down before they even knew what hit them.


    When she returned to grab her glasses and snatch her tablet from his hands, Samuel responded with wild, exaggerated gestures, as if he had just witnessed divine enlightenment.


    Lynn simply adjusted her glasses and took her tablet back.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the Valcroy Academy recruiters came to her. She got an offer and accepted it immediately.


    For the first time, Samuel saw something like excitement in her.


    ¡°Well, this is it. Unfortunately, I haven¡¯t gotten an offer yet!¡± he said lightly.


    A small knot formed in his stomach. Was he about to lose someone again?


    Lynn nodded. ¡°Based on my calculations, it shouldn¡¯t take long before you receive an offer. They¡¯re likely preparing a strong proposal, which could explain the delay.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that must be it.¡±


    Without another word, Lynn turned and walked toward the group of students selected by Valcroy.


    The rest of the day passed quietly.


    But no one approached Samuel.


    Not a single scout.


    Not a single school.


    Slowly, something began to gnaw at his stomach.


    Had he done something wrong?


    Why weren¡¯t they interested?


    As the sun dipped lower, almost everyone was gone. Only the gray-haired instructor and a few lingering scouts with their final candidates remained in the hall.


    That was enough for Samuel.


    He grabbed his book and walked toward the exit without looking back. He wasn¡¯t going to stand around like an idiot, waiting for a miracle that wasn¡¯t coming.


    A hand stopped him.


    The gray-haired man.


    "Hey, Samuel, right?"


    Samuel nodded, clenching his jaw to stop himself from doing something stupid. Like crying.


    "What are you still doing here? Why aren¡¯t you with the school that scouted you?"


    Samuel shrugged. "I wasn¡¯t scouted."


    The man¡¯s eyebrows shot up. Perplexed.


    "Let me see your wristband."


    Samuel held out his arm. The man scanned it, his eyes narrowing as he read the data on his tablet.


    "That¡¯s strange."


    Samuel¡¯s gaze sharpened. "What¡¯s strange?"


    The man tilted his screen slightly, frowning. "It says here that you¡¯ve already been recruited. That¡¯s why no one else could approach you. But you¡¯re saying you never got an offer?"


    Samuel felt his breath hitch.


    "What school recruited me?"


    "I can¡¯t see that," the man muttered. "It looks like¡­ a system error."


    A strange tension hung in the air.


    "What school were you hoping to go to, Samuel?"


    He tried to sound casual. "Valcroy seemed interesting."


    But there was a hint of hope in his voice, slipping through despite himself.


    The man smiled now. "Then you¡¯re in luck. I work for Valcroy. I do this job," he gestured over his shoulder, "to see the new blood coming in. Wait here, yeah? I¡¯ll call Valcroy."


    He extended his hand. "Name¡¯s Harren, by the way."


    "Samuel," he answered, but Harren already knew that.


    Harren turned away, phone already dialing.


    Samuel watched him for a few seconds.


    Then, without thinking, he started dancing like a hobbit.


    The weight lifted from his shoulders. They did want him.


    They thought he had already been recruited. But how? There hadn¡¯t been a "bug" for anyone else.


    Harren returned after a while. "The buses have already left for the airport. We won¡¯t make that flight, so you¡¯re coming with me. They¡¯re sending a private jet."


    He pulled a document from his pocket. "Oh, and here¡¯s your offer. You¡¯re in. First-year students get a starting salary of sixty thousand dollars¡ªsince, well, your financial situation isn¡¯t exactly stable. That number goes up in your second year, but we¡¯ll get to that later. The idea is that once you graduate, you¡¯ll also give back to the school, so people like you will always have access to Valcroy. Plus, you¡¯ll already have a solid foundation when you enter the hero world."


    He looked Samuel dead in the eye. "I assume you accept?"


    Samuel could barely contain his excitement.


    "Uh, hell yeah! Knock me out if I ever say no to this."


    Harren kept looking at him with a straight face. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem practical.¡±


    ¡°Ah, not a jokester. Noted! Not that I¡¯m going to do anything with that information, but it sounds cool to say.¡± Samuel clapped his hands together. ¡°So, what now? Airport?¡±


    Harren raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah¡­ but first, food. Anything you want?¡±


    Samuel nearly tripped over his own feet. Anything?


    He had never been given a choice before. The possibilities were endless¡ªsushi, Korean, steak, pasta, pizza. How the hell was he supposed to pick?


    ¡°Sushi!¡± he blurted out.


    Harren nodded approvingly. ¡°Come on, I know a good place.¡±


    As they walked toward the exit, Samuel glanced at him. ¡°Hey, Harren¡­ one more question.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°How did I end up listed as recruited? No scout talked to me today, let alone made me an offer.¡±


    Harren hesitated for a second, then sighed. ¡°No idea, Samuel. Someone manually entered it. My best guess? Someone wanted to stop you from getting recruited. No clue why, but it was intentional.¡±


    Samuel froze.


    Someone had tried to block him.


    Someone wanted him to stay out of the academies. To stay homeless?


    Why?


    Harren patted his stomach. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s eat.¡±


    ? Ruben Poelen, 2024. All rights reserved.


    This work, Endborn & Dawnborn, including all text, characters, and worldbuilding, is the intellectual property of Ruben Poelen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or articles.


    Unauthorized use, copying, or distribution of this work is strictly prohibited.

 THREE: Valcroy Academy

    Together with Instructor Harren, Samuel walked into a narrow alleyway in New York. There, they had sushi that tasted almost divine, and Samuel ate until he was completely stuffed.


    Harren gave him a few surprised looks as he practically inhaled his food, but Samuel couldn¡¯t resist challenging him with a walrus impression. By the third time, the old man finally cracked a smile.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± Harren said as he returned from paying the bill. ¡°The plane¡¯s ready.¡±


    They hurried to a taxi, which took them straight to the airport. Samuel expected they¡¯d have to check in somewhere, but that turned out to be unnecessary. There was a dedicated section for heroes. At the terminal, their luggage was taken¡ªwell, Harren¡¯s luggage. Samuel had only his book and flat-out refused to give it up.


    Together, they walked toward a private jet with the Valcroy Academy logo on the side. Harren stepped in first and sank into a seat with a deep sigh.


    ¡°Long day.¡±


    Samuel nodded silently and sat down.


    He had never flown before, and now his first time would be in a private jet, with a man he barely knew. He had always imagined his first flight would be with friends¡ªlaughter, excitement, maybe a little chaos.


    But you don¡¯t always get what you want.


    The moment the door sealed shut, the plane began to move.


    ¡°Hero flights always get priority,¡± Harren noted. ¡°Explaining why a hero is in a hurry takes time, so they just let us go, no questions asked.¡±


    Samuel nodded, watching out the window as the sun dipped below the skyline.


    ¡°Where are we heading? What way is Valcroy at?¡± he asked seriously.


    For the first time, Harren looked at him with something almost gentle. ¡°We¡¯re heading west for an hour, then further south,¡± he said.


    He hesitated before adding, ¡°The school is in a beautiful place. You¡¯re going to do well there, Samuel.¡±


    Samuel sank deeper into his seat, eyes still fixed on the view outside.


    That¡¯s when he felt it.


    Somewhere along the way, Lynn had silently slipped his phone and earbuds back into the pocket of his hoodie.


    A small smile crept onto his face.


    He wouldn¡¯t be alone at Valcroy.


    He already knew Lynn.


    He pulled out his phone, slipped in his earbuds, and played Heroes by Peter Gabriel.


    A good song. One that always made him think of his parents.


    "You can be a hero, just for one day."


    Maybe his parents hadn¡¯t been Heroes¡ªnot the kind with a capital H. Maybe they were just ordinary people.


    But that one day, when they protected him¡ªon that day, they were.


    Same story as Harry Potter, he realized suddenly. Dead parents. No friends until he went to a special school. Maybe there was even a Voldemort lurking somewhere in his world.


    The flight took longer than he expected, but eventually, a firm hand rested on his shoulder.


    Samuel looked up at the old man and pulled out his earbuds.


    "Look," Harren said. "There it is."


    Before him, a school unfolded like nothing he had ever seen.


    Massive buildings stretched across the land, scattered like a city of its own. Lights glowed from windows, silhouettes moved through hallways and across courtyards. People roamed the campus, powers flashing in the night. In one area, flames shot into the air. Somewhere else, light flickered in strange, rhythmic patterns.


    So much was happening. He could only begin to guess at the possibilities.


    A small smile tugged at his lips.


    "We¡¯re here," he said, a mix of relief and excitement in his voice.


    Harren nodded. "We¡¯re here."


    <hr>


    Once they landed, Harren walked alongside Samuel toward the school.


    They passed through a massive, rounded doorway. As Samuel stepped inside, he looked up and spun halfway around, taking it in.


    The door felt¡­ grand. Like a threshold between two worlds. As if everything beyond this point would change.


    They entered the arrival hall.


    It was surprisingly quiet. On the wide staircase leading upward, students in uniform sat, chatting in small groups. Dark red, simple but functional. A design that seemed ready for anything¡ªfighting? Check. Studying? Check. Just wandering around? Also check.


    Harren gave Samuel a firm look. ¡°Time to head to your dorm. Your uniform is waiting there. Put it on, then go to the first-year assembly hall. You¡¯ll have some time to settle before lights out. Today is an exception since you¡¯re all new.¡±


    A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes held something more dangerous now.


    ¡°But tomorrow, training begins. And then, it gets serious. Tonight, lights out at midnight.¡±


    Samuel widened his eyes dramatically and nodded solemnly. ¡°Of course, my lord.¡± He saluted like a soldier. ¡°One last question! Where is my dorm?¡±


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Harren sighed, but there was the faintest flicker of amusement in his gaze. ¡°Good question, Sero. Follow the signs. They¡¯ll guide you.¡±


    Samuel nodded in understanding and started walking in the direction Harren had pointed.


    Just as he said, a sign marked "First-Year Dormitories" hung overhead. He followed it obediently, eyes sweeping over the halls as he walked.


    Everywhere, lounge areas were scattered between corridors, small groups of students chatting or unwinding.


    The place felt alive.


    At some point, he passed through a connecting corridor into another building attached to the main structure.


    This section felt quieter. Almost abandoned compared to the energy he had just left behind. The atmosphere shifted, like he was being pulled deeper into the academy.


    When he reached a hallway lined with dorm rooms, he started scanning the doors, searching for his name. The corridor was short and curved left.


    And then, finally, he saw it.


    "Samuel Sero, 11."


    He pushed the door open and stepped inside.


    His room was bigger and more luxurious than he had expected. A comfortable bed. His own shower and toilet. A massive TV mounted on the wall, with a game console waiting beneath it.


    It was almost impossible to process.


    Yesterday, he had been sleeping under a bridge.


    And now, this.


    But something gnawed at him.


    This was incredible¡ªeverything he could¡¯ve hoped for¡ªbut he had no one to share it with.


    The thought lingered for only a second before pure joy took over.


    He walked to the closet, pulled on his uniform, and immediately felt how well it fit.


    A small smile tugged at his lips.


    Time for the assembly hall.


    Finding it was easy; the signs guided him without issue. At the entrance to the building stood a massive door leading into the hall.


    He pushed it open slowly, aware that he was probably the last one to arrive.


    Still, he stepped forward with quiet determination.


    This was a new beginning.


    The room buzzed with life.


    Everywhere, people his age were talking, laughing, socializing. Samuel¡¯s gaze swept across the crowd, pausing briefly on the loudest group¡ªthe ones already making jokes, eager to prove themselves.


    Further in, he spotted the elitists, the students who had gotten in through money and connections. They stood together, speaking with an air of importance.


    One of them stood out.


    Like a planet with moons orbiting around him, the others hovered close, drawn into his gravity.


    A quiet voice spoke beside him.


    ¡°Hartogen Lockwood. Son of Arthur Lockwood, once one of the biggest names in the hero world. Elitist brat.¡±


    Samuel turned to the speaker.


    The boy himself looked pretty elitist¡ªperfect posture, chin slightly lifted, eyes carrying the weight of someone who thought he already knew everything. He extended a hand.


    ¡°Elias Mercer,¡± he said, as if that name alone should impress him.


    Samuel shrugged and shook his hand. ¡°Samuel Sero.¡±


    Elias gave a cool glance toward Lockwood. ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d avoid him. Not a great guy.¡±


    Samuel would decide for himself who was worth his time. He simply nodded and walked on without another word.


    And then¡ª


    He saw her.


    Lynn.


    Sitting alone at a table, eyes locked on her tablet, fingers flying across the screen as she entered data at lightning speed.


    Samuel quickened his pace, mouth already opening to speak¡ª


    But Lynn beat him to it.


    ¡°Took longer than expected. Interesting,¡± she said without looking up.


    Samuel grinned. ¡°You¡¯re like Legolas with those eyes. Maybe I¡¯ll make that your nickname.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    He smirked. ¡°And what if I do?¡±


    Finally, she looked up.


    A small crack in that perfectly controlled, ice-cold fa?ade.


    The faintest trace of a smile ghosted over her lips.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll make sure you fail at whatever you plan to do next.¡±


    Samuel widened his eyes dramatically. ¡°Now that¡¯s a threat.¡± He flopped onto the bench beside her. ¡°So, what did I miss?¡±


    Lynn barely glanced up from her tablet. ¡°Not much. The headmistress gave a speech about what it means to be a hero. Atlas stopped by and said a few words. The class got an official introduction. That was about it.¡± She paused. ¡°Oh¡­ and our instructor was apparently late.¡±


    Samuel rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°That was my fault.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°You know everything, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Not everything. Just a lot.¡±


    Samuel let his gaze drift across the room. A few people stood out immediately.


    A red-haired woman with cybernetic enhancements on her arms¡ªstrong, focused.


    Lockwood, of course. A walking tower, at least two meters ten, built like a tank. He stood rigid, like he had stepped straight out of a military handbook. His gaze swept over the room, sharp and calculating, as if he was analyzing weaknesses the second he saw them.


    Like a predator.


    Another guy leaned casually against the wall, his arms covered in shifting tattoos.


    Elias had already joined the elite crowd, speaking to them as if he¡¯d belonged there all along.


    Near the loudest group, a student with dark blue hair stood out¡ªthe loudest of them all.


    So many different personalities, so many unknowns.


    Samuel wanted to know them.


    A wave of loneliness hit him.


    He already knew someone¡ªLynn¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t enough.


    A deep, unexplainable need stirred in his chest. More. More friends, more connections, more meaning.


    He didn¡¯t want to stand on the sidelines. Didn¡¯t want to just exist.


    He wanted to be part of this.


    He had to do this right.


    ¡°Hey Lynn, what are to¡ª¡± His sentence cut off mid-word.


    Through the crowd, he saw her.


    Her hair was as dark as the night, catching the light just enough to gleam. Her clothes were immaculate¡ªnot a wrinkle, not a crease.


    She sat alone at a table, absorbed in a book.


    But she wasn¡¯t lost in it.


    She was watching.


    Samuel saw it.


    She wasn¡¯t just the center of the room¡ªshe moved through people¡¯s attention without ever moving herself.


    A paradox of presence and distance.


    Still, yet undeniable.


    Unique, raw, untouchable.


    She seemed to understand everyone, yet no one understood her.


    No one dared to talk to her.


    Her gaze cut through the air like a scalpel, slicing straight through facades and pretenses.


    But Samuel?


    He understood her.


    He knew it.


    And then¡ª


    She looked up.


    Their eyes met.


    Emerald green. Clear, almost glowing. A universe unto itself.


    It hit him like a punch to the nervous system.


    His body reacted before his mind could catch up.


    A primal voice roared inside him¡ªher, her!


    His muscles tensed, his skin tingled, like invisible sparks danced across him. Like sandpaper scraping down his spine, painful but intoxicating.


    It burned.


    And he wanted more.


    He didn¡¯t feel alone anymore.


    The world tilted. Time and space blurred.


    Something fundamental in him had snapped into place, as if he had been orbiting aimlessly until now¡ªuntil her.


    He had a purpose.


    His heart skipped. His throat went dry.


    Heat spread through his veins.


    ¡°Are you even listening¡­?¡± Lynn¡¯s voice cut in beside him.


    Samuel barely heard her.


    His eyes stayed locked on the girl.


    No¡­


    The woman.


    She was perfect.


    "Who¡­ who is that, Lynn?" Samuel asked, breathless.


    Lynn glanced up from her tablet, following his gaze. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if running calculations.


    Then she looked at him with an expression he couldn¡¯t place.


    For the first time in his life, Samuel didn¡¯t feel alone.


    Just by looking at her.


    "Who is she, Lynn?" he asked again, almost demanding now.


    Lynn sighed and shut her tablet.


    "That¡­ that¡¯s Raine Vallis."


    She watched him carefully before speaking again.


    "It won¡¯t work," she said finally. "I estimate your chances at 1.4%."


    He swallowed, took a deep breath¡ª


    And grinned.


    Not just a grin.


    A wall of willpower. Of determination. The same feeling that had pushed him to survive. The same fire that had burned when he discovered his powers.


    Inside, it wasn¡¯t just motivation.


    It was a force. A new kind of strength.


    He would make it happen.


    No matter what.


    "Then I¡¯ll take the 1.4%."


    ? Ruben Poelen, 2024. All rights reserved.


    This work, Endborn & Dawnborn, including all text, characters, and worldbuilding, is the intellectual property of Ruben Poelen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or articles.


    Unauthorized use, copying, or distribution of this work is strictly prohibited.

 FOUR: First Day

    After the first-year assembly, Samuel had gone back to his room.


    He hadn¡¯t dared to approach her.


    Raine, of course.


    The thought had crossed his mind¡ªa fleeting second where he had almost moved, almost spoken. But he hadn¡¯t.


    She seemed¡­ too good for him. Too perfect.


    What was someone like him¡ªsomeone who had been homeless¡ªsupposed to do with someone like her?


    You¡¯re not homeless anymore, a voice in his head reminded him.


    But the feeling still gnawed at him.


    His heart still pounded in his throat, trying to claw its way through his ribs.


    He stepped into his room and went to close the door¡ª


    But just before it shut, a hand pressed against it.


    Samuel turned in an instant.


    Reflex. Survival instinct.


    If someone wanted into your space, they wanted something.


    He braced himself, ready to fight, to block¡ª


    Then he saw who it was.


    The guy with the tattoos.


    Sharp, intelligent eyes. Black hair that fell just over them. He was built, but not heavy¡ªmore like someone who knew how to move fast. Efficient. Tactical.


    ¡°Figured I¡¯d introduce myself. We¡¯re neighbors, after all.¡± His voice was calm, grinning as he extended a hand. ¡°Lior Mesar.¡±


    Samuel didn¡¯t hesitate.


    Someone actually coming to him?


    Miracles do exist.


    He grabbed Lior¡¯s hand in a firm shake. ¡°Samuel Sero. You can call me Sam. Like the real hero of Lord of the Rings¡ªSamwise Gamgee.¡±


    Lior raised an eyebrow, grin widening.


    ¡°Hot take. Don¡¯t hear that one often.¡±


    Samuel looked at Lior like he had lost his mind.


    "He carried Frodo. Up the mountain. Carried Frodo. Up the fucking mountain!"


    He kept staring, waiting for some moment of realization, but Lior¡¯s grin didn¡¯t waver.


    "Sam stayed with Frodo," Samuel continued, his voice softer but just as firm. "When he didn¡¯t have to. He stayed, always. Like a real friend."


    Lior chuckled again but let the debate go. "If you say so, man." He shrugged. "Anyway, I¡¯m your neighbor. Good to meet you. Maybe we chill tomorrow?"


    Samuel nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Sounds good. See you in class, man!"


    With a final nod, they turned away, and the door slid shut behind them.


    Samuel stood there for a moment in the quiet of his room.


    He changed, climbed into bed¡ª


    But his thoughts wandered.


    To her.


    Raine.


    Not the simple version of her. Not just her name, her looks, or the aura around her.


    But who she really was.


    That question lingered in his mind as he slowly drifted into sleep.


    <hr>


    A blaring alarm exploded through his room.


    Samuel shot upright, completely disoriented. His eyes darted around, searching for something to hit¡ªbut there was no clock in sight.


    Then, suddenly, a voice echoed through the space:


    ¡°Cadet Samuel Sero, status: awake. Task: check schedule and prepare for breakfast and lessons.¡±


    Samuel groaned. ¡°Jeesh, does it have to be this dramatic?¡±


    Silence.


    Then the voice responded:


    ¡°Objection noted. Objection submitted to administration.¡±


    Samuel¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°WHAT?¡±


    Panic surged through him. He jumped up, flailing his arms like he was trying to swat an invisible swarm of bees.


    ¡°NO! NO! CANCEL! STOP!¡±


    But the voice didn¡¯t return.


    He stood there for a moment, heart pounding, then let out a deep sigh.


    Fine. Whatever. What was even on his schedule?


    He grabbed his tablet and¡ªunable to resist¡ªmimicked Lynn¡¯s stance, fingers flying across the screen as if he were solving world crises.


    Antennary:


    07:00 ¨C 08:00 Breakfast ¨C Dining Hall


    08:00 ¨C 10:00 Class: School Rules & Conduct ¨C Room 27.2A (Building 27, Floor 2, Room A)


    12:00 ¨C 13:00 Lunch ¨C Dining Hall


    13:00 ¨C 14:00 Class: Team Formation Year 1 and Discussing Team Assignment ¨C Arena 3


    14:00 ¨C 17:00 Simulation: Team Assignment ¨C Arena 3 (Bring extra clothes)


    17:00 ¨C 22:00 Dinner & Free Time ¨C Training, Studying, Practicing


    Samuel slowly exhaled through his lips. "Pretty packed schedule¡­" he sighed.


    Still, despite the grumbling, a thrill buzzed under his ribs. This was the real deal.


    And he was damn ready for it.


    <hr>


    After showering¡ªhis first real shower in months¡ªSamuel stepped into the hallway, feeling fresher than he had in ages.


    He had barely taken a few steps when an ear-splitting alarm blared from the room next to him.


    He stopped.


    Sighed.


    Seriously?


    Knocking softly on Lior¡¯s door, he waited. No response. He tried again, but the deafening noise inside drowned out everything.


    With a resigned shake of his head, he pushed the door open and found Lior still dead asleep, completely unfazed by what sounded like a full-blown air raid siren.


    Samuel walked over and aimed a sharp jab into the blankets¡ªright where his ribs should be.


    Lior shot up instantly, eyes wide, completely disoriented.


    ¡°Huh¡­ what time is it?¡±


    Samuel raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s your first question? Not ¡®what the hell is happening?¡¯ Your room sounds like a war zone, Churchill. And you just slept through it.¡±


    Right on cue, the same monotone robotic voice from earlier echoed through the room:


    ¡°Cadet Samuel Sero, thank you for assisting a fellow student. One point awarded to Student Samuel Sero. Cadet Lior Mesar, report to administration after your classes.¡±


    The voice cut out.


    Lior groaned and flopped back onto his bed dramatically. ¡°Already? Man, I was so comfortable.¡±


    Samuel gave him a deadpan look. ¡°How do you even sleep¡ªno, you know what, forget it. Come on, we need to eat.¡±


    He turned and headed into the hall, while Lior reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, muttering under his breath.


    <hr>


    The dining hall was already packed.


    First-years, second-years, third and fourth years¡ªeach sitting in their own little groups, their own worlds. A chaotic mix of murmured conversations, small arguments, bursts of laughter, and the rustle of paper from students buried in their books.


    Samuel scanned the room quickly.


    No Raine.


    But Lynn was there.


    He grabbed a tray and walked toward a small machine near the kitchen counter.


    Bleep.


    "Cadet Samuel Sero. Breakfast ready in 42 seconds. Proceed to kitchen counter."


    Samuel frowned at the device, throwing it another suspicious glance as he headed to the counter.


    There, waiting for him, was an enormous guy holding an equally massive plate of food.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot¡­¡± Samuel muttered, eyeing the mountain of breakfast. ¡°And how did you know what I wanted?¡± He narrowed his eyes at the man. ¡°You got, like¡­ culinary superpowers?¡±


    The man laughed and shook his head. ¡°The system sees everything, Samuel. It already calculated what you¡¯d want. You¡¯ll get the full explanation later¡ªjust eat.¡±


    Samuel cast one last wary glance at his plate but eventually shrugged.


    Whatever. Food was food.


    He turned and made his way toward Lynn¡¯s table.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    For the first time, he felt less empty than usual.


    On a normal morning, he¡¯d be sitting on a cardboard box with some stale bread.


    Now, he was in the dining hall of one of the best hero universities in the world.


    He dropped into the seat across from Lynn.


    ¡°Hello, Lynn! What kind of delicious meal did you get? I have¡­ some kind of pancake with vegetables, potatoes, and a piece of meat.¡±


    ¡°Yachaejeon,¡± Lynn said flatly, not looking up.


    ¡°Yachaejeon?¡± Samuel repeated, genuinely curious.


    Lynn pointed at his pancakes. ¡°It¡¯s yachaejeon. Korean vegetable pancakes. Nutritious, balanced, and filling.¡± She glanced briefly at her own plate. ¡°Oatmeal with legumes and quark. Apple on the side. Plus a distribution of supplements.¡±


    ¡°Sounds delicious,¡± Samuel said, voice dripping with sarcasm.


    Lynn gave him a quick, analysing look. ¡°Taste is a construct. This is nutritionally efficient.¡±


    Samuel grinned. ¡°Missed the joke again, Lynn.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    He started eating, eyes casually scanning the hall.


    Where was Raine?


    Mid-chew, Lior plopped down beside him with an exhausted look. ¡°Pfff, guys, I had the worst¡ª¡±


    ¡°I am not a guy, but a woman,¡± Lynn interrupted immediately.


    Lior froze mid-sentence, staring at her with his mouth slightly open before turning to Samuel for help.


    Samuel barely kept his laughter in check, keeping his voice as serious as possible.


    ¡°Wow, Lior. Didn¡¯t notice Lynn¡¯s a lady? How rude.¡±


    Lior¡¯s eyes darted between Lynn and Samuel, panic flashing across his face. ¡°I, uh¡­ I didn¡¯t mean¡ªI just thought¡ª¡±


    Samuel burst out laughing, and to his surprise, he caught the faintest smirk on Lynn¡¯s face.


    Lior groaned and leaned back in his chair. ¡°I hate you both already.¡±


    Now that Lior was seated, he and Lynn drifted into a casual conversation¡ªsmall talk. Samuel could tell Lynn hated it, but Lior didn¡¯t seem to care.


    Meanwhile, Samuel¡¯s focus was elsewhere.


    Or rather¡ªon someone else.


    Raine.


    Where was she?


    His eyes scanned the dining hall, searching.


    Then, without looking up, Lynn casually pulled him out of his trance.


    ¡°Back left. Last table. Alone.¡±


    Samuel turned his head¡ª


    And there she was.


    Raine.


    A solitary figure in the middle of the chaos.


    But something else nagged at him.


    His gaze flicked back to Lynn, eyes narrowing slightly.


    ¡°How did you know I was looking for¡­¡± He paused, catching himself, eyes darting toward Lior. No way was he handing his annoying neighbour ammunition this early. ¡°¡­favourite spot?¡±


    Lynn raised an unimpressed eyebrow. ¡°Nice try, Sero. Now Lior definitely doesn¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Lior glanced between them, clearly aware that something was going on.


    Lynn remained unfazed. ¡°I already calculated you would do this. Based on your reaction to Raine during the first-year assembly.¡± She paused for a fraction of a second. ¡°Also, I¡¯ve updated my estimate. Your current probability of success is now 2.2%.¡±


    Samuel felt a strange, inexplicable sense of triumph.


    ¡°That¡¯s already way higher than last time! What changed?¡±


    Before Lynn could answer, Lior inserted himself into the conversation, waggling his eyebrows.


    ¡°Do we have a little crush, Sero?¡±


    Samuel opened his mouth to fire back, but Lynn beat him to it.


    ¡°Shall we remind you that you can¡¯t even recognize a ¡®girl¡¯ when you see one?¡± she said flatly. Then, as if Lior no longer existed, she turned back to Samuel.


    ¡°Based on the duration of time she looked back at you yesterday, I¡¯ve calculated your chances have increased by 57.1% from my original estimate. Rounded to one decimal, of course.¡±


    Samuel nodded as if this were the most logical thing in the world.


    ¡°Naturally. Makes perfect sense.¡±


    Meanwhile, Lior had stood up and was now enthusiastically waving in Raine¡¯s direction.


    Samuel reacted instantly.


    In one fluid motion, he grabbed Lior by the collar and yanked him back down into his seat.


    Lior landed with a thud.


    ¡°Jesus! Are you strong or something?¡± he muttered, straightening his shirt.


    The three of them finished their breakfast and headed toward the building for their first class.


    ¡°Building twenty-seven,¡± Samuel muttered as he scanned his surroundings. ¡°How many buildings are there? Is all of this for students? What in the actual¡ª¡±


    Lynn tapped something into her tablet, then¡ªmiraculously¡ªactually looked up at him.


    That was progress.


    ¡°The university buildings are also used by heroes affiliated with the school. There are mission facilities, full data centers, and other support structures for hero work,¡± Lynn explained.


    Samuel nodded. That made sense. ¡°Are there places that are off-limits to students?¡±


    Lynn shot him a sharp look.


    ¡°Already planning to get into trouble, Sero?¡± Lior grinned.


    Lynn turned to him. ¡°It¡¯s neither wise nor logical to seek out restricted areas. There will be severe consequences if you¡¯re caught.¡± She looked back at Samuel. ¡°Don¡¯t let yourself be influenced by someone like Lior.¡±


    Lior gave her an exaggeratedly offended look. ¡°Someone like me? What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    Lynn stared at him, cold and unbothered. ¡°You know exactly what it means.¡±


    After another ten minutes of walking, they reached the classroom. Inside, a sizable group of first-years was already scattered throughout the room.


    Samuel¡¯s gaze drifted¡ªinstinctively¡ªtoward the back row.


    And there she was.


    Raine. Alone.


    His heart stuttered, just for a second, before he pulled himself together.


    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s sit in the back too. But over there,¡± he said, pointing to the opposite side of the row.


    Lynn immediately raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sitting that far back is illogical. Based on the projected volume of the instructor¡¯s voice, this could result in¡ª¡±


    Lior groaned, rolled his eyes, and simply dragged Lynn along.


    At the same time, Samuel clamped a hand over her mouth.


    ¡°We¡¯re kidnapping her, Lior! Nice and simple, no overthinking required.¡±


    Lynn¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously.


    Samuel barely dodged it when she tried to bite his hand.


    They settled into their seats and waited for the instructor to arrive.


    The door opened, and Samuel recognized him instantly.


    Harren.


    The same man who had helped him get into Valcroy Academy.


    But this time, he wasn¡¯t in uniform.


    He was in his hero suit.


    For the first time, Samuel really saw just how massive the man was. His arms looked like they were made of steel, his entire build radiating power. He was about the same height as Samuel, but heavier, denser.


    A bold "H" stood out on the front of his suit. The rest was deep purple and black¡ªsleek, functional, commanding.


    ¡°Everyone sit down and be quiet,¡± Harren said.


    His voice wasn¡¯t loud, but it carried so much authority that the entire class instantly obeyed. The room fell silent as students scrambled into their seats.


    His gaze swept across the room, lingering on Samuel for just a moment before moving on.


    ¡°Today, we¡¯ll be discussing the school¡¯s code of conduct,¡± he began. ¡°I¡¯ll go over the most important rules, but it¡¯s expected that you read the full guidelines yourselves.¡±


    Lynn turned her head slightly toward Lior and whispered dryly, ¡°Lior, you should actually do that. Don¡¯t assume everything will work out on its own.¡±


    Lior stared at her, wide-eyed. ¡°How did you know I was thinking that?¡±


    Lynn remained perfectly neutral; eyes fixed on Harren.


    ¡°96.7% probability.¡±


    Lior shot an annoyed look at Samuel. ¡°What the hell have you dragged me into, man? What kind of person is this?¡±


    Samuel grinned. ¡°Welcome to Lynn. Cold. Calculated. Absolutely terrifying.¡±


    Lynn, still staring at the instructor, didn¡¯t even blink.


    Harren clapped his hands once, and the entire room fell silent, eyes locked on him.


    "Good. Before we get into the rules, does anyone know which hero I am¡ªor rather, was, before I decided to spend my time teaching little thunder gremlins like you?" His gaze swept across the room, sharp and dangerous.


    Lynn¡¯s hand shot up immediately. A few others hesitated before raising theirs, but Harren called on Lynn without hesitation.


    "You are the hero Har-Storm. Your ability allows you to cloak your body in lightning, increasing both speed and strength," she stated in her usual monotone.


    Harren nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now another question: who can guess my power level after watching this video?"


    A small projector dropped from the ceiling, and a video played.


    Har-Storm demolished a group of villains with surgical precision. Every move was calculated, efficient, and ruthless. His speed was relentless, his strikes precise, and his tactical vision unlike anything most had seen.


    When the video ended, Lynn¡¯s hand shot up again. Harren called on her.


    "Nine," she said confidently.


    A murmur spread through the class¡ªmost seemed to agree.


    Harren let out a loud laugh. "What a flattering number to give me, but you¡¯re completely wrong, Lynn. My power level is a six."


    The entire class froze.


    Mouths hung open.


    They had just watched him move, fight, and dominate like someone far beyond that ranking. But they had been wrong.


    Samuel heard the subtle scratch of nails against the desk beside him.


    He turned.


    Lynn¡¯s jaw was tight, a vein visible in her neck, fingers furiously typing on her tablet.


    She was fuming.


    And finally, she couldn¡¯t hold it in anymore.


    Her hand shot back up.


    "But how is that possible, Mr. Harren? The data doesn¡¯t add up. You look much stronger," Lynn said, her jaw tight.


    Harren met her gaze with a challenging look. "I¡¯ll explain, Lynn. That¡ª" he pointed at the screen, "¡ªis me as a fully trained hero. After my time at Valcroy Academy. After four years of training, refining my skills, and pushing my limits.


    "And that is the promise we make to every student here. We will forge you, like sculptors shaping stone. We will perfect you into heroes capable of things most people can only dream of."


    He turned to face the class, his voice steady and firm.


    "And that brings us to rule number one of Valcroy Academy: You are allowed to use your powers at all times. However, you must not destroy property, not harm others without their consent, and always use them responsibly."


    With that, Harren turned to the board and began writing down more rules.


    No duels outside designated training areas ¨C Conflicts are settled in the arena, not in hallways, dorms, or the dining hall.


    Teamwork is not optional, it is mandatory ¨C Being a hero isn¡¯t a solo act. You will work together, whether you like it or not.


    Hero work starts with discipline ¨C Being on time, attending lessons, and staying physically and mentally sharp are requirements, not suggestions.


    Harren set down his marker and continued.


    "Alright, now that we¡¯ve covered that, let¡¯s move on to something a bit more fun. We know you¡¯ve got young blood running through your veins, so the school organizes three major parties every year."


    His gaze swept across the class as he continued.


    "The first is the Partner Party, happening in about three months during Christmas. Your one task? Find a partner. Simple, right?


    "Then we have the Night Party, a celebration that lasts all night long.


    "And lastly, the End-of-Year Party, to celebrate that you¡¯ve survived another year."


    A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.


    "Now listen carefully. All 80 of you." He let the silence stretch.


    "You will behave at these parties. Yes, alcohol is served. But if even one of you thinks about getting chaotic¡­"


    His eyes moved slowly over the class, letting the weight of his words sink in.


    "Trust me. You do not want to be the one who gets on my bad side."


    Samuel grinned at Lior. "This is going to be fun. Wonder how hard they actually party here. Bet there¡¯s a lot of pent-up energy that needs releasing, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows at both Lior and Lynn.


    Lior grinned back. "Oh man, I¡¯m already scouting for a good missus. Might have to ask early¡ªbefore they actually get to know me¡­" He turned to Lynn. "Hey Lynn, you¡¯re kinda cute. Wanna go with me?"


    For the first time, Lynn said something neither calculated nor logical.


    "I¡¯d rather die."


    Samuel had to physically stop himself from laughing out loud and drawing Harren¡¯s attention.


    Lior crossed his arms, looking genuinely offended. "Jesus, you could¡¯ve just said no."


    Samuel was about to refocus on the lesson when something happened that he did not expect.


    A hand went up.


    Harren turned and called on the student.


    And then¡ª


    He heard her.


    A voice, as beautiful as light itself, filled the room.


    Like a violin string plucked at exactly the right moment.


    A symphony of sound and emotion.


    A shiver ran down Samuel¡¯s spine. His ears rang.


    His head snapped to the right.


    Raine.


    "What if you don¡¯t want to go to the parties?" she asked.


    Harren studied her for a moment.


    Inside Samuel, everything screamed that the answer had to be you are forced to go.


    The parties had to be mandatory.


    She had to go.


    She had to be there.


    He had to see her. Dance with her. Just exist in the same space.


    His hands curled into fists. His thoughts spiralled.


    Her voice¡­


    She was too much.


    Behind him, Lior chuckled and started singing under his breath. "Raine and Samuel, sitting in a tre¡ª"


    He didn¡¯t get to finish.


    Lynn had already stabbed a pencil into his hand.


    Lior yelped in pain, yanking his hand away.


    Samuel didn¡¯t notice any of it.


    He was still looking at her.


    Trying to replay her voice in his mind.


    Over and over.


    It was like the first warm day of summer.


    Like the moment the first leaves began to bloom.


    Then, Harren¡¯s booming voice filled the room.


    "No, Raine. The parties are not mandatory. If you choose to skip them, you can spend that time however you like."


    Something twisted in Samuel¡¯s stomach.


    His eyes stayed locked on her.


    Why didn¡¯t she want to go?


    And then¡ª


    Raine turned.


    Her gaze found his.


    It was like lightning struck through his eyes.


    His muscles locked. His breath caught.


    She was looking directly at him.


    No smile. No nod. No change in her expression.


    Just pure, steady observation.


    But for Samuel, it was everything.


    It didn¡¯t matter how she looked at him.


    The only thing that mattered was that she was looking.


    A crushing weight spread across his chest, and only then did he realize¡ª


    He was holding his breath.


    He inhaled sharply, snapping out of the trance, forcing himself to turn away from those emerald eyes.


    His entire body screamed at him to look back.


    But he couldn¡¯t.


    He wouldn¡¯t risk ruining this.


    A sharp clap from Harren snapped Samuel out of his thoughts.


    "Alright, that¡¯s it for today¡¯s lesson! I¡¯ll see you all after lunch to assign your first-year teams. Until then, you¡¯re free to do as you like."


    And with that, the massive man turned and walked off.


    Lynn grabbed Samuel by the arm and pulled him toward the exit. "Come on, let¡¯s get lunch. That way, you can think about something else for a while."


    Lior followed, snickering under his breath.


    <hr>


    ? Ruben Poelen, 2024. All rights reserved.


    This work, Endborn & Dawnborn, including all text, characters, and worldbuilding, is the intellectual property of Ruben Poelen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or articles.


    Unauthorized use, copying, or distribution of this work is strictly prohibited.