What was the daily life of a college scholar?
There was no definitive answer to that question.
As a species, humans tend to develop a sense of 'uniqueness.'
For that reason alone, it was precisely why no two individuals are ever truly the same, even if they may share certain similarities. Simply put, everyone is fundamentally different — each with their own unique mindset, personal principles, psychological makeup, and, ultimately, their own philosophy.
An example of this would be someone who enjoys football, who might not like basketball or hockey.
It was not a matter of right or wrong, but preference.
Some students spend their free time playing online games until dawn, while others bury their heads in books or daydream about a future far removed from the classroom. There are those who sketch in the corners of their notebooks, those who build plastic models, those who listen to music no one else understands, and those who simply exist, quietly observing the chaos around them.
And then, there are the outliers whose hobbies don't quite fit into any neat category.
Ultimately, not everyone possessed the same privileges.
Swoosh—! Accompanied by a piercing shriek, the surrounding winds twisted violently, converging on a single point. Within seconds, the pressure condensed, then erupted toward the fleeing figure like a cannon blast.
What followed was a thunderous impact, scattering debris and dust in every direction.
"Ahh! Shit! Shit! God damnit! Isn't this too much?!"
Narrowing evading the earth-shattering blow, Casey Shaw cursed as he stumbled, then pushed himself into another desperate sprint.
Dashing through the dim alley under the cover of night, he stole a glance over his shoulder.
There was no sign of his pursuer.
Of course, considering he was just nearly torn apart by a blast of wind, the attack had to come from somewhere. The real issue was that the enemy could strike from any angle or direction without so much as lifting his eyes.
He ran frantically all over for almost 2 kilometers, yet still failed to shake off his mysterious attacker. Needless to say, Casey Shaw stood no chance in a direct confrontation, especially not against someone who could manipulate wind with nothing more than a thought. Some might underestimate it, but only a few understood: the speed of thought in a human brain could rival a bullet. So as long as the enemy could still think, they could activate their ability and attack him with all their might without showing mercy.
Thinking about it like that, wasn't his situation kind of depressing?
Before the thought could fully settle, Casey leapt into the air to avoid another incoming wind burst. In the process, his foot struck a metal bucket, sending it clattering across the alley and startling a black cat as he continued running.
Surprisingly, the wind burst felt weaker than the previous ones he'd been desperately dodging. It lacked the sheer force that had been trying to tear him apart moments ago. Perhaps the attacker had noticed the stray cat and held back, reducing the attack's power out of caution.
As if they didn't want to risk hurting the creature in case they missed.
Casey clicked his tongue.
'Where the hell is that consideration for me, huh? What did I even do?!'
Truly, he couldn't understand why he was being hunted so relentlessly. Racking his brain, he tried to recall if he had somehow offended a wind manipulator at some point, but the chances of that seemed absurdly low.
It was July 26th.
Summer break had started just seven days ago. In unusually high spirits, Casey had decided to leave his room for once and pick up a manga from the bookstore, even though the cover practically screamed this is going to suck.
That was when it happened.
A sudden, chilling sensation crawled up his spine.
Trusting his instincts, he ducked and a sharp blast of wind whistled past his head, tearing through the air and obliterating the street sign behind him. At first, he had tried to identify the attacker or at the very least, see where the assault came from. But he was forced to flee when more and more wind strikes flew towards his face at alarming speed.
'God damnit! And here I thought my luck couldn't get any worse. Still, this attack feels out of place. If I didn't offend anybody, then I shouldn't be getting ambushed. And it's not like someone would go out of their way to attack this old man.'
Scratching his head, Casey tried to make sense of the entire situation.
His gaze dropped to his right hand. It was the same hand that set him apart from the ordinary, yet confined him to something far more complicated. The "special power" within it could certainly help deal with those troublesome wind blasts. But after a moment of thought, he realized using it now would only slow him down and put him at a greater disadvantage.
It was like trying to block four fists with one hand. Unless you're a cyber ninja, you were bound to get hit. And in this deadly game of tag, getting hit by a wind cannon wasn't exactly ideal.
Then, as if struck by a sudden idea, his eyes lit up and he darted into the moonlit streets.
Foundation City was roughly a third the size of Tokyo. Even so, despite its scale and complexity, all Casey saw around him were couples, everywhere he looked. It had to be because of summer break.
That was the only explanation. Casey clicked his tongue, silently cursing his luck, as a wave of envy swelled in his heart.
The moonlight reflected off the sleek surfaces of towering buildings, blending with the warm glow of street lamps to create an almost dreamlike atmosphere like something pulled straight out from a painting.
—If the city were painted on a canvas, the image of a vast artificial island, held aloft by large gigafloats and drifting somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, would be captured in perfect detail.
Casey dashed through streets bustling with couples.
Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the wind strikes had stopped.
As expected, so long as he stayed within a crowd, the attacks wouldn't come. It seemed his pursuer had no intention of dragging innocent bystanders into their little skirmish. If that was the case, then at least for now, he had a chance to catch his breath and plan his next move.
And he wasn't entirely in the dark.
He already had a good idea who the attacker might be.
"It has to be him… without a doubt."
First of all, his mysterious assailant had attacked from a distance, launching well-calculated and precise long-range wind strikes. Secondly, as he ran through the alleyway it would've been difficult to land a clean hit from above under normal circumstances, considering it was narrow and dark. And thirdly, he wasn't being actively chased, but tracked through a different means.
Taking all of this into account, it became clear: he wasn't dealing with just any ordinary wind user.
In fact, the fellow wasn't a wind user at all.
He was up against someone who was not a wind manipulator but could manipulate the wind with his ability.
Theoretically, it was impossible to target a moving object, especially a human, without relying on sight.
Only one person could pull off something like that.
"Tsk. That bastard..."
Irritated, Casey clicked his tongue bitterly and made his way toward an isolated area.
There was no longer any fear of being attacked. It seemed the entire purpose of the so-called chase had already been fulfilled. The attacker had revealed his identity. With that out of the way, there was no point in continuing their game of cat and mouse.
Moments later, he arrived at the train switchyard which happened to be close by.
Much like a transit bus garage, it was a place where trains were serviced and stored after the last departure of the day. The area, roughly the size of a school campus, was covered in coarse gravel, with over ten sets of tracks running parallel to one another. At the end of those tracks stood a row of garages with large shutters, resembling oversized storage units at a harbor. Surrounding the switchyard were towering stacks of freight containers, massive steel boxes once used for cargo transport. They were piled haphazardly, stacked as high as three-story buildings, creating a maze-like structure that turned the outskirts of the yard into a sprawling, three-dimensional labyrinth. The containers formed mountain-like walls, and the switchyard sat like a basin nestled between them.
It was a place few people visited.
Students were expected to be home before the final train ran, and once that train was gone, the switchyard was abandoned. The utility lights used during working hours were shut off, and there were no nearby houses to spill over any ambient glow. Despite the city's population of 2.5 million, this place was shrouded in such utter darkness that even the usually hidden stars became visible overhead.
And standing at the heart of that vacant, star-lit silence was Foundation City's second strongest psyker, Ignatius Crow.
The white-haired boy seemed to have been waiting for him. He lounged lazily atop one of the massive freight containers, eyes turned toward the night sky. From his elevated position, perhaps the stars were visible if one looked closely enough.
Eventually, Ignatius lowered his gaze. As if sensing Casey's arrival, he peered down from above and smiled.
It was a predatory smile.
"Oh, you're finally here," Ignatius said with a smooth, taunting voice. "I've been waiting, y'know. Quite a bit of time's passed already, so I thought I'd help you out. Tell me, did you enjoy running around like a street rat?"
"Why did you attack me?"
"Huh? Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to?" the blond replied nonchalantly as he stood up. Even so, his upright form seemed to blend seamlessly into the darkness around him.
"Ugh..." Casey sighed wearily.
How did we even meet, anyway? he wondered.
Though he couldn't recall the exact date or time, the memory still felt fresh as if it had happened just yesterday. He had seen the blond delinquent-like guy loitering around now and then for almost a month, but they had never exchanged names. In other words, they were hardly what you'd call friends.
One day, while passing through a back alley, Casey had noticed the blond being surrounded by a group of rowdy delinquent and against his better judgment, he decided to step in. Apparently, despite being one of the strongest psychics, Ignatius had a relatively weak physique and a cocky, delinquent appearance, so it wasn't hard to guess how that situation escalated. But the way it ended was unexpected.
Somehow, by stepping in, Casey had managed to offend him.
After zapping the gang of delinquents with lightning, Ignatius had turned his full attention to him. From that point on, their encounters became a pattern. The blond would appear out of nowhere, attack him arrogantly, and Casey would be forced to defend himself.
Every time, their confrontation ended the same way.
Ignatius would exhaust himself trying to win, and Casey would walk away victorious. Ironically, if Casey ever actually lost, the guy might finally be satisfied and stop showing up. But unfortunately for him, Ignatius was a stubborn, prideful bastard.
"... What did I even do?"
"I can't allow someone else to be more strong than me. Is there supposed to be another reason?"
"Tch. Are you crazy? For that reason, you attacked me out in the open like that? I get that your imaginary little rivalry means quite a lot to you, but what would you have done if someone innocent got hurt? Seriously, what the hell goes on in that twisted head of yours?"
Ignatius's eyes narrowed, and the corners of his lips twisted like he was chewing something that had long since lost its sweetness.
"This bastard… Are you looking down on me, huh? Who do you think you're talking to? You really think someone like me would lose control and hurt random bystanders? Even I know how to handle the weak."
"Trying to sound smart doesn't make you smart, idiot. Also, why do you always talk like that? You act so damn condescending, it pisses me off. Do you really look down on people that much?"
"What's wrong with the way I speak? I wouldn't know... I'm poorly educated, remember? But tell me, did speaking the truth suddenly become a crime in the last century?"
"…"
Unfortunately, he wasn't wrong.
Foundation City really was that kind of place.
The world had long since moved past the era where alleyway delinquents ruled street fights. Even professional boxers and martial artists were no longer seen as the pinnacle of strength. They simply couldn't keep up with those who had awakened abnormalities in their minds.
And so, the true powerhouses of this era… were the psykers.
"God damnit, this is really getting old! If you want to play god, then go find someone else. Leave powerless people like me out of your fucked-up game. What happened? Did your other playmates ditch you too? Figures. Must be tough being an outcast among freaks."
The moment he finished speaking, Casey immediately sensed danger.
A split second later, the air around him twisted. The surrounding wind surged inward, condensing with violent intensity until it transformed into a searing beam of plasma that shot toward his face.
There was no way to evade. After all, he was up against an attack from an Alpha-Class psyker.
An explosive noise followed after a slight delay and following that, the plasma blast completely swallowed Casey's entire body in a flash.
...Or it seemed.
"Do you know how plasma is formed?" Ignatius spoke leisurely as the aftershock echoed through the air. "It happens when gas is superheated until the electrons break free from their atoms, turning it into a soup of charged particles. Meaning, you're being hit by a storm of ionized energy or thousands of supercharged particles."
"So tell me," he asked slightly bitter, "if you're truly powerless like you claim... then why are you completely unharmed, you bastard?"
There was no trace of the high-density plasma blast, powerful enough to decimate everything in a straight line. The absence of scorch marks and impact trail became apparent. Not even a flicker of residual energy remained.
It had all been erased.
Defeated entirely by Casey's right hand… which didn't bear a single scratch or burn.
More precisely, the moment the attack made contact, it was completely annihilated.
"Despite all this time, I still can't figure you out. What is that ability of yours? It's not recorded in Foundation City's database" the white-haired boy muttered like it was something that irritated him deeply for a long time. "If I'm a one-in-300,000 genius, then you must be a one-in-a-million freak." Casey, however, didn't offer a single word in response. "Still… if I can beat a monster like you, maybe I'll finally move up to Number 1 instead of being stuck at Number 2."
"But I always win."
This time, Casey answered and just in time, too.
Ignatius swung his arm, unleashing a brilliant arc of lightning that cracked through the air toward him.
However, the moment it struck Casey's right hand, the bolt burst like a water balloon, scattering into harmless particles and vanishing without a trace.
Abnormalities ranging from those ridiculed on television to the power to manipulate all phenomena were said to originate from the user's mentality. In Casey's case, his abnormality was born from a deep-rooted rejection of humanity's instinct to define, label, and control the world through language.
From this rejection emerged a power that exerts an absolute effect of erasing of any named force be it sorcery, psychic ability, or divine miracle.
Thus, his abnormality was given the title "World Breaker."
Despite how powerful his right hand appeared on paper, Foundation City had officially ranked Casey Shaw among the weakest. Outside of its ability to negate any phenomenon, the hand was practically useless. It didn't grant him anything else. He couldn't take on three opponents at once, nor could he handle someone without powers if they were simply stronger or more experienced. Also, the effective range was only his right hand and wrist. Which meant if the attack had hit him anywhere else, it would have been critical.
And yet...
His opponent was not aware of this weakness. He must have seen him as some kind of unbeatable horror that negated all his trump cards.
That said,
'Fuck! I thought I was going to die for reals!'
Casey's calm, composed expression stiffened awkwardly.
Even though his right hand possessed a special power, it had been pure coincidence that both the plasma blast and the lightning strike happened to hit it.
His heart pounded violently in his chest as he struggled to force a casual, mature smile onto his face.
"I guess you're just… unlucky."
And that was how Casey brought July 26th to a close.
"You really are unfortunate."
A few seconds later, a deafening sonic boom ripped through the air and the world screamed.