Auxilliarie Chapter:Part 2 {FINAL}
The Next Day...
One showed up at Central HQ. The immense steel tower-shaped building gleamed under the sun. In front of the main entrance, arms crossed, Captain Man was waiting for him.
One had put on the received costume. It was understated, a deep black, cut like a military uniform with discreet reflective strips at the joints. No cape, no flashy emblem, just a black hood. He looked like a somewhat lost soldier.
"You're on time. Good," grumbled Captain Man, looking him over. "The suit fits. Listen. To get a costume like mine, with the privileges and... the cape, you have to participate in something. The Acolyte Tournament."
One nodded, more interested in a pigeon pecking at the ground.
"It's a tournament where established heroes choose a promising partner, an 'acolyte,' to represent them," continued Captain Man, his gaze fixed. "The winner and his acolyte get resources, recognition... and the acolyte can be officially equipped by the association according to their mentor's standards." In truth, thought Captain Man, if this kid becomes my acolyte, I might be able to keep an eye on him, instill a bit of discipline in him. Make him less... walking chaos.
"Understood? Good. Go to room 704. Ask for Anastasia. She'll explain the rest."
---
Room 704 was a sober, functional office. Anastasia, a woman with square glasses and red hair pulled into a strict bun, looked up from her screen.
"One, I presume. Have a seat."
For the next hour, she spoke to him. About protocol. About the functioning of the World Heroic Association.
"The Association was created a long time ago by the Fifteen Great Founders (Crow, Lion, Eagle, Tiger, Bull, Antelope, Wolf, Rabbit, Fox, Boar, Goat, Ant, Leopard, Monkey, Dragon, Rat). Before, hunters lived and operated independently, which caused chaos. Nowadays, to practice the profession of a professional hero, you must either have passed a recruitment test and been approved by our ranking system... or be a graduate of an accredited hunter school."
She adjusted her glasses.
"Myers Academy is the institution that has welcomed the greatest legends. Names like Erasered, Pink Buster, Mercy... and even the current and past number ones of the ranking, Zero and Yui, studied there."
One, who had half dozed off, jumped.
"What about me?"
Anastasia looked at him over her glasses.
"You, you are a special case. A 'wild' profile. So, before even thinking about the tournament, we must make sure you have grasped the basics. For example: where do daemons come from? Any idea?"
One thought.
"Well... they appear, and we have to defeat them."
"You're right, One. But it's not that simple." She opened a hologram showing energy particles. "A daemon is normally born from a fragment of Ether that binds to human negative emotions. The Association's research has revealed, over the years, that fear is the emotion that created the most catastrophic daemons. There are eight Legendary Daemons, all never defeated, but sealed."
She paused, scrutinizing One.
"You should also know that every individual possesses Ether within them. A reserve, a gauge. This is what allows heroes to use their abilities. Wait, let me read your file..."
She opened a file on her screen. Her face, initially neutral, froze. Her eyes widened behind her lenses. She scanned the page, again and again.
"This is... impossible. The Ether gauge you possess... it has no defined limit. It fluctuates off the charts. You cannot be classified..." she murmured, almost desperate, deeply troubled. She closed the file with a sharp click.
"Alright. That's all for today," she said in a suddenly rushed voice. "Go home. Rest. And... show up at the Acolyte Tournament in a week. We'll see."
---
One week later, One was quietly at home, sprawled on his couch, watching a cartoon. He was at the best part, when the hero was finally going to attack...
POOF.
The TV screen, the ceiling light, the fridge... everything went off at once. Power outage.
"Ah, no, seriously?" groaned One, getting up reluctantly. He headed for the door of his apartment to see what was happening in the building.
He opened the door.
There was no more hallway.
No more wall. No more floor.
Just the cloudy sky, and very, very far below, debris that looked like matchsticks.
His entire building had been trampled, flattened like a sandcastle. And what had trampled it...
One fell into the void, a fall of several dozen stories. He landed on a pile of rubble with a soft thump, got up and brushed the dust off his pajamas (he wasn't wearing the costume).
In front of him, rising higher than all the city's skyscrapers, a titanic daemon. Its skin was like lava-cracked stone, and its eyes burned with a malevolent glow. It began to walk, with steps that made the earth tremble, heading straight for City K, the neighboring metropolis.
Its voice, a seismic rumble, echoed:
"...TRAMPLE HUMANITY... TO CREATE A NEW WORLD..."
One, hands on hips, watched it move away.
"What a waste. I was at the best part."
---
Unfortunately for the Titan, City K was well guarded. The Top 10 of the Association's Class S were waiting for it, ready for battle, at its outskirts.
The fight was a demonstration of pure, coordinated power.
Iron Vow, 10th, opened hostilities. All his military arsenal, carried on his heavy armor, spat a deluge of missiles that struck the daemon in a symphony of explosions, blinding it temporarily in a cloud of fire and smoke.
Taking advantage of the cover, Grim Howl, 6th, moved like a shadow. Blades of black energy sprang from his wrists, materializing into gigantic scythes. He attached himself to the monster's right arm and, with a clean circular motion, severed it. The colossal limb crashed to the ground in a geyser of black energy.
The Titan, unbalanced, roared. Titan Fist, 8th, the lowest ranked present but not the weakest, appeared beneath it. His fists, amplified by concentrated gravity, struck the monster's heel with the force of a meteoritic impact, making it stagger even more.
It was then that Erasered, 7th, intervened. Silent, she raised a hand. A perfect gray beam, without heat or sound, passed through the Titan's left leg at the knee. The matter of the leg simply disintegrated, atomized. The daemon definitively lost its balance and began its titanic fall.
Captain Man, the 5th, was already in position, charged like a spring. The ground around him cracked under the pressure.
"PREPARE TO JOIN THE RUBBLE! UNIVERRRRSS PUUUUUNCHH!!!"
His punch, concentrating stellar energy, connected with the Titan's torso in mid-fall. The impact was not an explosion, but a perfect compression wave that pulverized the main mass of the daemon into a rain of rock and dissipated energy.
The monster's colossal corpse crashed not on the city, but on the anti-catastrophe shelter, Survival Dome B23, which was reduced to dust under the weight. A coldly accepted collateral damage.
Immediately, Angel, the 3rd and second in the general ranking, appeared in the air. Without a word, he extended his hands. The Titan's carcass, still immense, was enveloped in white light and disappeared, teleported into the distant void of space.
Meanwhile, on a nearby hill, Silver, the 2nd, watched the battle from afar, arms crossed, his expression unreadable under his visor. Further down, Mercy, the 9th, was already at work, her hands emitting a healing aura over evacuated civilians and injured minor heroes.
Pink Buster, the 4th, was absent, as often. And Zero, the Number 1, remained, as always, in his ivory tower, observing perhaps, or not.
It was a perfect, surgical demonstration of the power of the cream of the crop of heroes. A clean-up operation of divine level.
From afar, One, still in pajamas and covered in the dust of his own building, had seen it all while munching on a cereal bar found in a supermarket wreck.
"Whoa. They're strong. Especially Captain's punch. I would have liked to see the end of my cartoon, though."
He turned on his heels and started walking, vaguely looking for a place where the TV might still work. The acolyte tournament was tomorrow, after all. He needed to rest.
---
In a chic and sober marble office, three people were sitting, discussing.
"— Sasha Crimson, alias The Crow."
"— Mouse Vilenski, alias the Rat. I'm happy to see you."
"— Me too... Well, I presume this magnificent lady is the famous Pink Buster."
It was indeed her, Pink Buster, 4th in Class S, under her real name Rosa Jasper. She was not only a renowned heroine but also the wife of one of the 15 great founders of the association.
Crow, that was her husband's name.
"— Rosa, you must already be aware of who Mouse is..., so we'll skip the introductions."
"— Very well, let's talk business then, my dear Crow..., but first, let's toast to our evening."
TO OURS!