Adaptive Hide was a rare beast of an ability, unique on Earth, far from the common Ember Spark or water manipulation that littered the guild's ranks. It was a powerhouse if wielded right, letting the user's body react instinctively to physical threats: skin hardening like steel, muscles flexing with sudden strength, senses sharpening to a razor's edge, all in fleeting bursts.
The user could even mimic a single physical trait, claws, scales, or fur, for a brief moment, adapting to the fight like a living weapon. Adam, scrawny and bloodied, was the only soul on Earth with this gift, its potential simmering beneath his battered frame.
Adam stirred, a weak cough breaking the silence, blood flecking his lips as his trembling hand fumbled for his cracked glasses. His chest heaved, each breath a rasp, blood still oozing from gashes on his arm, chest, thigh, and shoulder.
His torn shirt hung in rags, soaked red, and his leg twitched, the deep cut there pulsing with pain. Marcus steadied him, his rough hands gentle as he gripped Adam's shoulders, his D-rank sigil glowing faintly. "Easy, you tough little bastard," Marcus growled, his voice gritty but warm, like a shot of whiskey after a brawl. "You're still in one piece, barely."
Nova moved closer, his scuffed leather jacket creaking, his own bruises throbbing from a week of training. He grabbed Adam's glasses from the blood-slick floor, wiping them on his sleeve before handing them over.
"Not bad, Glasses," he said, his voice rough but carrying a rare grin. "You took a beating and still flipped that wolf the bird. Respect." His golden circles itched, pillarless and mocking, but his envy took a backseat to pride in the kid's grit.
Adam fumbled the glasses onto his face, his hands shaking, his eyes dazed but sparking with something new—defiance, maybe, or just the high of surviving. He tried to stand, his legs wobbling like a newborn colt's, blood dripping from his wounds to pool on the stone.
Marcus hooked an arm under his shoulder, hauling him up with a grunt, while Nova braced his other side, their boots scuffing the floor. The crowd murmured, some clapping, others whispering about the F-rank kid who'd awakened mid-fight.
"You're a unicorn, Glasses," Marcus said, his grin wide, teeth flashing like he'd just won a street bet. "One pillar, 98% potential, higher than the Continental record! I'm gonna be a legend for finding you!" He clapped Adam's back, nearly knocking him over, but his eyes shone with pride, like a coach watching his rookie steal the game.
Nova chuckled, his crimson eyes glinting. "Yeah, kid, you're making me look bad," he teased, his tone gritty but warm. "Got your pillar while I'm still a blank. Don't let it go to your head, or I'll kick your ass myself." His smirk hid the sting of his own unawakened state, but he meant the praise; Adam had earned it, blood and all.
Adam managed a weak smile, his voice a hoarse croak. "Didn't… didn't think I'd make it," he mumbled, his glasses slipping down his nose.
Blood trickled from his cheek, but he stood taller, the pillar on his hand a badge of survival. The hall's runes flickered, their light casting shadows that danced across his battered form, as if the guild itself acknowledged his leap.
Marcus's grin faded, his face turning serious as he gripped Adam's arm, his voice dropping to a rough demand. "Alright, you little shit, what's your ability? Adaptive Hide—what the fuck does it do?" His eyes locked on Adam's sigil, the black pillar stark against the golden circles, its faint pulse a promise of power.
The crowd leaned closer, their whispers a low hum, eager for the reveal.
Adam swallowed, wincing as he shifted, blood seeping through his torn sleeve. "It… it makes my body react to danger," he rasped, his voice gaining strength. "My skin gets harder, like armor, for a second. Muscles tense up, senses get sharp. I can even… mimic stuff, like claws or scales, but just for a bit." His eyes flicked to his hand, the pillar glowing faintly, as if confirming his words.
Marcus let out a low whistle, his grin returning like a wolf spotting prey. "Fuck me, that's a beast of an ability," he said, his voice thick with awe. "You're a walking tank, kid, if you train it right. Instinctive defense, mimicry? You're gonna be a nightmare in the field." He clapped Adam's shoulder again, gentler this time, his pride raw and real.
Nova's lips twitched, a sharp laugh escaping. "Damn, Glasses, you got a Swiss Army knife in your skin," he said, his tone half-joking, half-impressed. "Hardening up, mimicking claws? You're gonna make those Beastaria idiots cry." He leaned closer, his crimson eyes glinting. "Just don't get cocky, or I'll test that hide myself." His words were playful, but his respect was clear. Adam had crossed a line Nova hadn't yet reached.
The hall's air shifted, the runes pulsing brighter as if echoing the moment. The crowd dispersed, some heading to training rooms, others muttering about Adam's potential. Marcus guided Adam toward a bench along the wall, its surface scarred from years of fighters catching their breath.
Nova followed, his boots thudding, the coppery tang of blood still thick in his nose. Adam sank onto the bench, wincing, his wounds still oozing, but his eyes held a new fire, a spark of confidence born in the arena's chaos.
"You're gonna need stitches, kid," Marcus said, his voice gruff but laced with concern. He pulled a first-aid kit from a nearby locker, its metal clanging, and tossed it to Nova. "Patch him up, Chosen Child. I ain't your nurse." He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his grin still lingering like he'd hit the jackpot.
Nova rolled his eyes, kneeling beside Adam and ripping open the kit. "Hold still, Glasses, unless you want me to staple you shut," he grunted, his tone half-serious.
He cleaned the gash on Adam's arm, blood smearing his fingers, and applied a bandage, his movements rough but careful. Adam hissed, his face pale, but he didn't flinch, his new pillar seeming to steel his nerves.
"Adaptive Hide, huh?" Nova said, wrapping another bandage around Adam's chest, the wound there still seeping. "Sounds like you're gonna be a pain in the ass to fight. Skin like armor, claws on demand? Better not mimic some wolf's fur and start howling." His grin was sharp, his humor gritty, but his eyes showed genuine pride.
Adam managed a weak laugh, his voice barely above a whisper. "No howling… promise," he said, his glasses fogging again. "Just… hurts like hell." He glanced at his pillar, its black line a quiet triumph, and his smile grew, small but real.
Marcus pushed off the wall, his boots scuffing the stone. "You're both a handful," he said, his voice booming with rough affection. "Glasses, you're F-rank now, a step above nothing. Train that ability, and you'll be tearing through Beastaria like a buzzsaw. Chosen Child, get your ass in gear and awaken, or I'll make you clean this hall with a toothbrush." His grin was all teeth, but his eyes held a challenge, daring them to rise.
Nova tied off the last bandage, blood staining his hands, and stood, his own circles itching fiercely. Adam's got his pillar, his ability, he thought, frustration coiling tight. I'm falling behind, a god with nothing to show. I need to awaken, now. He met Marcus's gaze, his smirk defiant. "Keep dreaming, old man. I'll get my pillar, and then you'll be eating my dust."
The hall's runes pulsed, the guild's chaos resuming around them: shouts, sparks, the clang of weapons. Adam, bloodied but unbowed, sat straighter, his Adaptive Hide a spark of potential.
Marcus clapped them both on the shoulders, nearly toppling Adam, and laughed, a raw, gritty sound. "Rest up, you little shits. Training's just getting started."