When Aldrich was a child, he always dreamed of being a hero. It was a thoroughly uninspired dream considering basically every single kid has ever thought about being a hero at some point. This is largely unsurprising considering that it is practically impossible to escape hearing about heroes in this day and age of hero worship.
Aldrich heard about a thousand different bedtime tales about how the great hero Vanguard vanquished villainy with his invincible fists, saving countless lives as he ended the Age of Villainy. When he grew older, he constantly saw heroes on television with their colorful costumes and capes and their big muscles and big smiles. He saw as the heroes carried people out of burning buildings and, when scary Variants showed up, how they swooped in to beat the monsters down and save the day. Heroes popped up in holographic advertisements, talk shows, social media, or streaming sites—wherever they could get exposure, they got it. But most importantly, Aldrich wanted to be a hero because of his parents. They were both heroes, though not particularly famous ones. His dad could shoot flames from his hands, and though he could light up a car or melt through a wall, he wasn’t anything like the bigshot heroes like Blue-Blaze, who could melt building-sized Variants into ash in seconds. Aldrich’s mother was the exact opposite of his father, being able to control water, though again, just like his dad, not to any particularly notable degree. His parents might have just been average heroes to the general public, but because they were his parents, they were the biggest heroes ever to Aldrich. They seemed much larger than life, standing tall and strong and raising him to respect justice. They told him about how justice was what heroes believed in, and that at the end of the day, though it might take some time, it was a force that made things right and people smile. Raised on a healthy diet of justice and heroism, as well as capes and costumes, Aldrich wanted desperately to be a hero. Unfortunately, though, Aldrich soon came to the crushing realization that he had no powers. 90% of humanity was either born with the Alter Organ, the mysterious little mass that was responsible for superpowers, or developed them by the age of ten. Anyone that reached the age of ten without showing any signs of hosting an organ was categorized as a "Dud," so called because they were defective human beings that failed to work properly in this day and age where powers were instrumental to surviving against variants. Aldrich was a complete freak of nature in all the wrong ways and one of the rarest 5% of the world's population. In a society that valued superpowers and their ability to contribute to humanity’s survival, Aldrich was considered dead weight. a relic of the past that should have been exterminated. His genes were tainted and unevolved. Nobody would ever marry him. Nobody would ever associate him with anything. Aldrich was literally a subhuman in this new world, where Alterhumans were the next stage of human evolution. Forget being a hero; nobody would even hire him considering that every single job out there had someone whose Alter Power made them better suited for it. Needless to say, throughout most of Aldrich’s youth, he was relentlessly bullied for his lack of powers, often coming back from school with cuts and bruises, tears, and a hurting heart, but through it all, his parents supported him as well as they could. They tried to raise him with good and upstanding and "heroic" values, telling him to keep his chin up, to try and see the good in things, and to never let go of his dreams, but even this came to a premature end. On Aldrich’s 13th birthday, he spent the night alone in his house, waiting for his parents to come back from a mission hunting down Variants let loose by a powerful criminal organization on the rise known as the Trident. Then came the one memory that defined Aldrich’s being down to the very core. At midnight, the television in Aldrich’s living room buzzed on by itself, and a foreign feed was broadcast on it. He saw both his parents strapped to iron chairs in a dirty, grimy, and bloody cell. They were beaten, bruised, and scarred, their once colorful red and blue costumes torn and broken apart. He could only watch numbly as a red-masked man addressed Aldrich, telling him that this was the price for his parents' acting against the Trident. Aldrich watched as multiple men began to break his parents down piece by piece. Fingernails were torn off, then the fingers were ripped off. Skin is cut and burned, ripped apart, and then flayed. Electric shocks, acid, and poison that made pain worse, then poison that hurt For what seemed like an eternity, Aldrich saw his parents dismantled like meat at a butcher’s shop, their screams of pain interlacing and giving voice to their suffering. That was when the feed cut off and police and heroes barged into Aldrich’s house, tearing his wide-eyed, still body away from the telescreen and taking him to the hospital. Aldrich did not cry that night, nor did he ever cry again. Something deep within him had broken, and whatever had sealed up those cracks was something cold where once there had been warmth. Over the days, there was an attempted search for Aldrich’s parents and the villains that had killed them, but nothing worked out. Aldrich realized then that there was no such thing as justice in the world. at least not in the sense that his parents had believed in. Justice was not some omnipresent force that calculated everyone’s karma and meted out a fitting punishment in due time. No, justice was not a force; it was an action, and only those who had the power to hammer it down could make it real. Aldrich let vengeance consume him, fueling his desire to become the hammer that would strike justice down through the skulls of those that deserved it. But how would he put down these villains? He needed a hero’s license to try and even start to track villains without having heroes start hunting him down for being an unlicensed vigilante. But no hero academy would ever accept him without powers. Thankfully, luck worked for him at least once in his life. His parents bequeathed him a good sum of money to live off of for a few years and a birthday letter telling him that, as insiders in the hero industry, they knew of an upcoming new government program called the Frame Initiative that was to be instated in three years. It was basically a welfare program for people with no powers like Aldrich, wherein they could apply to hero academies to train in mechanical powersuits called "Frames" so that when the time came, even the worthless 5% of powerless humanity could get drafted to fight Variants. Among those in the Frame Initiative, outstanding individuals could even become licensed heroes. His parents had written him nothing but encouragement, praise that he had made it so far, and support in that letter. It hurt to hold that letter and to read it while hearing their voices in his head, but he took the pain to heart and let it fuel him. The Frame Initiative would be rigorous in its selection. It chose those with both the best physical fitness and mental aptitude to take orders and make heroic decisions. Aldrich trained his body for three years, honing it to a sharp knife’s edge, mastering martial arts, and sculpting his muscles to their maximum, but his mental evaluations made things difficult for him. He was far too willing to kill, far too willing to put down scum, and far too willing to disobey orders when he thought that the sacrifices of the few for the good of the many had to be made. One time, when an evaluating Alter tried to reach into Aldrich’s mind to figure out his mental profile, Aldrich made her suffer a mild seizure from, presumably, how "irregular" or "broken" his head was. Needless to say, none of the top-tier or even mid-tier academies would ever consider Aldrich despite his scoring in the highest percentile on every physical fitness metric. Still, Aldrich managed to get into an academy willing to take him in. a no-name, small-time academy called Blackwater. The academy had little information surrounding it, making it immediately suspicious, but it was willing to see past Aldrich’s poor mental evaluation. Thus, at the age of sixteen, Aldrich entered a hero academy, just as he had always dreamed of doing when he was little, though where before he had wanted a license to save, he now wanted a license to hunt.Today was the big day.The day that Aldrich would leave for Blackwater Academy was the very first step of a long and, no doubt, hard journey to avenge his parents.Aldrich woke up at 5:30 in the morning, thirty minutes before an officer was scheduled to pick him up.Precisely as the clock struck six, an academy officer showed up at his apartment door, making his presence obviously known by slamming his fist into the door several times in what was the most violent knock Aldrich had ever heard before.Aldrich was ready and packed. His apartment, the house he had lived in for his whole life, was cleaned out to complete emptiness, ready for another renter to move in. Blackwater would provide food and board for the four years it took to graduate, so what he packed was mostly personal stuff that had some kind of emotional weight to it.Memorabilia from his late parents included a family picture with Aldrich and some trinkets from their hero costumes. His birthday letter was what had gotten
Blackwater Academy was located on the east coast of the United States, its compound located right beside a massive crater gouged out by an A-Class Variant twenty years ago. The academy got its name from the blackened waters in the crater. remnants of the monster’s blood and corpse that had sunk deep down to the ocean floor below.The crater itself formed a natural harbor leading out to the Atlantic Ocean, and a small port city called Haven stood there, presumably being the main source of supplies and people coming in and out of Blackwater.All in all, Blackwater was quite isolated. almost eerily so.Getting to Blackwater consisted of a two-hour drive followed by a one-hour helicopter flight over vast swathes of overgrown forests infested with Variants.Forests like these were commonplace after the monstering, as Variants spawned consistently throughout the world, with certain areas spawning them at such high rates that clearing them out and settling cities there was too difficult to m
The training grounds were quite impressive, to say the least. They were largely located outdoors and consisted of several five-hundred-meter-radius rings lined with towering metal walls that served as arenas.The walls were made of thickly reinforced metal, but their design was sleek and futuristic, with blinking lights of various colors dotted around their surface, indicating the status of various moving pieces of technology within the walls.Aldrich stared at the arenas while standing in a single-file line with the rest of the Frame students. They were, as expected, separated from the rest of the main student body, but a cursory glance gave Aldrich an estimate that there were approximately two hundred or so "normal" students.In terms of numbers, Blackwater was small, as most decently ranked hero academies operated with student bodies numbering well over a thousand, with only the highest tier academies like Shield and Invictus having small student bodies due to the difficulty of get
As it just so happened, Aldrich and the rest of the Frame students ended up in the same arena: arena number 1, making the total number of students in that arena from 50 to 54.However, the algorithm that calculated power fairness literally determined all the Frame students to be zero threats, hence why adding them to an already full arena changed nothing.“How do I even move in this thing?” groaned Adam, only his face visible from the upturned helmet of his Frame powersuit. He was in a fixed T-pose state like an unloaded video game character, and already, other students were laughing at him.Aldrich looked at his frame towering in front of him.It was a two-meter-tall humanoid suit of segmented black metal plates. Thick coils of wiry dark grey cable were visible under the plates, functioning as a shock-absorbing layer and a flexible mesh that acted like the "muscles" that supported the suit’s four hundred pound (180 kg) weight.A nondescript, round black helmet with a rectangular, glo
“Holy shit, it’s Seth Solar in the flesh,” came the awed voices of Alter students as they looked up at the cocky, slick-backed creep like he was the second coming of Jesus.Aldrich observed carefully.Of the dozen Alter students that had circled around him, six were preoccupied, staring in awe at Seth and gawking at him. The other six immediately turned tail and started to run, not caring to break Aldrich apart and take his points.This meant one thing: Seth Solar was dangerous.as predatory and dangerous to his fellow Alter students as he was to the Duds, like Aldrich.Aldrich carefully assessed what he could do against Seth, and in all likelihood, he realized he could do nothing.The "Solar" surname was one that almost everyone knew. Alter organs and their powers had some hereditary component to them, and the descendants of strong heroes would likely get similarly strong powers from their parents.As a result, powerful top heroes formed dynasties where their descendants took up thei
The combat evaluation ended about as expected. Aldrich and the rest of the Frame students were placed right into the F-class, with nobody else joining them.which made it obvious in hindsight that the "F-class" was made especially for the Frame students to segregate them even further.Aldrich and Adam spent their time in the infirmary after their combat evaluation. Drones opened up their Frame suits and evacuated them from the arenas, with many an Alter student observing what few were left conscious, laughing at their misfortune.The infirmary was a fairly large two-story building at the edge of the Blackwater compound, marked by its bright white metal walls and the gleam of a glowing green cross sign.Like most things in Blackwater, the infirmary was decked out with state-of-the-art equipment, and like most things in Blackwater, Aldrich and the Frame students were not allowed to access it fully.Instead, they were corralled into a repurposed basement, where they only had access to ba
October 30, 2117—One year later“This game is way too hard!” complained Adam as he sat in front of Aldrich’s gaming ring, an immersive VR helmet on his head as he played through Elden World.Adam had chosen a warrior barbarian quite fittingly to play, but even the warrior’s simple skill set confused him, making him die to a basic mob of level 20 trolls after fumbling a defensive shield-based skill.“Keep at it, you’ll get there,” said Aldrich as he watched from his tiny dorm bed. “Make sure to coat your sword in Flame Oil before fighting trolls, or else their rage is going to be way too hard to deal with.”“But your character just goes like, 'boom,' and then they all die,” said Adam.“Because mine is a necromancer." "I use death magic, and since these trolls are low-level enough, they instantly die to my [Anti-Life Shell] aura,” said Aldrich.“That’s ridiculously overpowered." "I should’ve chosen your class,” said Adam.“You get confused juggling like five skills; how do you think you
Aldrich... felt like he was in a dream. He was conscious, but not entirely there. Floating around in this sea of infinite darkness with only the gleaming golden letters of Elden World to focus on even then, it was so difficult to focus on those letters, as if at any moment he would lose focus and his mind would slip away permanently into the void.Aldrich did not so much consciously think as he did react on instinct. When he saw that familiar prompt from Elden World, he did what he had done when he had first started the game years ago.He chose his class.[Class: Necromancer Selected]As a necromancer, death has always been by your side. It has crept under your shadow. It has lurked in the depths of your being. It has shaped who you are. But unlike many who face death and break under its abysmal gaze, you stared back and took control over the darkness.Wielding negative energy that is toxic to life but nourishing to the undead, you commit yourself to a path of dark magics where, under