Luke walked the packed corridors of Lincoln High straight to the bathroom. Once there, he looked at his face and was unsettled by what he saw. There was a bit more meat to his face due to the extra endurance, but what attracted his attention was how oily it was. He had cleaned it at home, but running so much had taken its toll.

He noticed a couple of his many pimples had burst by themselves too. That was common when growing any physical stat. The system-assisted changes in the body pushed what it considered impurities out little by little, and pimples were the first to go.

His hair was a mess too, and he quickly cleaned his hands, which had dirtied on the fall to the ground, then his face. The schools liquid soap was much better than the cheap soap he used at home, and he would take a bath at the gymnasium showers at lunch break, as usual. As it was, he still washed his hair in the sink too. Mostly everyone who entered the bathroom looked him with disgust, a few with pity, but everyone just ignored him.

A few minutes later, he was presentable. His short, wet brown hair was still a mess, spiky and refusing to stay down. At least his face was okay, and his green eyes, the only redeemable feature of his ugliness, weren't blackened from getting punched the day before.

He extended his hand to the side to get some paper towels to dry himself, but found nothing. Frowning, he looked at it to find the paper machine open. Besides it, a little to the side so he would be out of view from the mirror, stood Jackson, holding all the paper towels.

"Hey, beggar," the boy said. "Looking for something?"

As most football jocks, Jackson was more wardrobe than man, his muscles so big they stretched the school uniform. His blond hair and blue eyes were fitting of a Hollywood poster, and even his mocking smile made girls sigh.

To Luke, that was the face of the devil.

Luke just shook his head. Saying anything, even to agree with Jackson, never ended up well. He just lowered his head and walked out of the bathroom with a wet head. The water was dripping on his shoulders.

Jackson's goons, three jocks—Miller, Jones, and Davis—and an emo who felt way out of place with the group—Garcia—were standing outside. They snorted derisively when Luke walked out, but today was a good day. Today, they weren't stopping him.

"Wait," Jackson said, and Luke mentally slapped himself for jinxing it.

Luke stopped and turned. The goons immediately made a circle around Luke, to hide him from view. Though everyone knew he was bullied, few were aware of the extent Jackson went. The bully wasn't stupid and knew there was only so much he could do before sheer sympathy made people intervene. Luke suspected even emo-boy Garcia, who was never in a beating session, didn't know it.

Jackson approached and threw the paper towels on the ground. Then he grabbed Luke's chin and raised his head. He examined Luke's face carefully.

"You look good," he said. "I don't think I hit you enough for messing with Lucy." The cheerleader, Jackson's girlfriend, had said hi to Luke in passing the day before, hence the beating. "I'll wait for you at the usual place after school. Don't be late." He slapped Luke's face twice with enough force to sting but not enough to leave a mark and left with his people.

Another beating was bad, but Luke was surprised to realize that yes, he was feeling much better than he should. He had suffered longer in the past after getting beaten less.

The answer was obvious: his phoenix heart.

There was no stats for health in the tower. Luke's memories told him some people believed the tower just wanted those inside it to remain easy to kill, though the existence of the defense stat and skills that made killing them harder said otherwise. Either way, there were ways to improve one's health, but they weren't great or precise.

Hybrids like him were the easiest way, albeit rare. They took a single aspect of survival from the stronger race while keeping it at a reasonable range for the weaker race. In Luke's case, his regeneration had simply become the best it could be without any skills. As long as he wasn't killed or the damage to a vital organ wasn't too great, he should survive anything. He also couldn't regenerate lost limbs, but small cuts should be gone in half a day at the longest.

He suppressed a smile so Jackson and his people wouldn't see it if they looked back, but felt elated on the inside. Extra healing abilities would make his life so much easier! He could get beaten after school and maybe even come back to study more than usual! He didn't even need mana for that!

'Thanks, Eternal Phoenix,' he thought.

He waited for Jackson to get out of sight and took the opportunity to get the paper towels, bring it back into the bathroom, and put them into their place. He finally dried his head and looked at the real reason he had come to the bathroom to begin with, his uniform.

The white shirt and dark blue jacket were alright. He fixed his black and blue checkered tie, which was very out of place from running, and put the white shirt into the dark blue pants. He also cleaned his black shoes a little. The biggest issue was the knees of his dark blue pants.

They were damaged from falling on his knees. He pulled them from his body a little, feeling some pain as the pants unstuck from the dried blood on his knees; improved regeneration or not, he wasn't Wolverine and didn't heal instantly. Then he used some water to at least clean the knees of his pants. He failed to dry them completely, but the wetness hid the damage better anyway.

When he was done, he double checked himself and nodded. That was enough not to get a warning. He would get a needle and fix the damage at home, hoping the fabric wouldn't become too thin and tear apart. Really hoping so. The uniform, given to him by the school, was supposed to last until the end of the semester, and he didn't have the money to buy a new one.

Finally ready to start his school day, he left the bathroom and headed for his locker. He had started leaving his school supplies in there ever since his books had been damaged in a beating.

Books, notebooks, tablet—everything provided by the school thanks to his charity scholarship—and pencil case in hand, Luke arrived in his class with no further issues. He sat at the back corner, surrounded by empty seats. Jackson wasn't from his class, but he kept tabs through Garcia and pestered anyone who sat close to Luke. Luke suspected Garcia had only been recruited because he was from Luke's class to begin with.

As soon as he sat down, the bell rung.

People rushed into the classroom. Like the rest of the school, the room had a renovated Victorian style, old and modern architecture blended together into a mix of opulence and practicality. There was no blackboard, but a huge TV screen the teachers controlled using their tablets.

Mrs. Roberts arrived only a couple minutes after the bell rung. Luke had taken some time to get used to teachers changing classes instead of students, but that's how things were done in Lincoln High. Mrs. Roberts was an old, stern woman with gray hair held in a tight bun. She was thin and elegant, and her brown eyes could make you feel bad about a mistake with only a look.

She arrived in silence and sat in silence too. The class didn't take long to get calm down. Mrs. Roberts distributed warnings and detentions freely, and people had learned that their rich parents couldn't do anything about that. It seemed she was quite rich and influential herself, and taught out of love for the job and a desire to help raise the new generations. When someone didn't need a job, it was hard to use the threat of firing them to keep them in line.

In fact, there was a rumor that a parent who complained about her found themselves humiliated in a social event instead.

"Today, we're going to continue where we stopped yesterday," she said, her level voice clearly heard even by Luke at the back of the room thanks to the quietness. "Before that, let me introduce you to a new student." She extended her hand to the door, and a girl came in.

She was of Japanese descent. Her long hair and eyes were black, her skin was milky white, and she had a beautiful, delicate face. Luke felt a pang of interest seeing her beauty, but he knew better than to labor any hopes and quickly quenched whatever feeling might've arisen. Instead, he focused on unlocking his tablet and opening his book at the right page.

"Nice to meet you," the girl said. "I am Akira Sakura, family name Akira, given name Sakura. Please take care of me."

Her voice was nice, but there was an edge to it that was hard to explain. After a few moments thinking about it, Luke realized it was the same thing he heard in Jackson's manner of speech.

They talked as if the world was beneath their notice.

That struck a cord and made him look at her. She was bowing to the class like something out of an anime. When she stood straight up, there was nothing in her eyes to betray what Luke heard in her voice.

Luke knew better than to doubt his bully radar though and concluded she was just another two-faced person like Jackson; publicly cool, privately monstrous. He just turned back to his things, any feeling he might've harbored for the girl now properly killed and buried.

"It's unusual for a transfer to happen two months to the end of the year," Mrs. Roberts said, "but Miss Akira had special circumstances that forced her to come. She might not be here next year, but that is no excuse to not treat her well. I expect everyone to be welcoming." She made a pause. "You can take a seat at the back."

Luke sighed and stood up. The only empty seats in the back were around him, therefore he had a role to play now, else Jackson's beating later might be worse. He only pestered those who sat close to Luke, but made Luke suffer much more for even allowing it to happen.

"Mrs. Roberts," he said, "that would be inadequate. Miss Akira will already have trouble adapting to a new school, it's better if she stays close to the teachers in case she needs help. Also, not every class is as nice as yours, and she might have trouble listening to the teachers back here. I will gladly take a desk to the front row so she can be better positioned."

He had said similar things so many times that it was almost rehearsed. Mrs. Roberts had also heard it multiple times before, and had even tried to get Luke to come out in the open about the bullying he received, but he didn't want to bring trouble to one of the best teachers in school. No matter her backing, no one could hold in front of a judge and a congresswoman.

The teacher sighed when she heard his words and shook her head. She had argued back before, but it only ended up with Luke saying he was a racist, getting sent to the principal's office, and the student being kept far from him anyway.

"Very well, Mr. Kells," she said. "Please bring a desk to Miss Akira."

Luke stepped sideways, but Akira surprised everyone by speaking firmly, "I refuse." Everyone looked at her. "I want a seat beside Mister Kells, and nothing will make me change my mind. Even if Mister Kells says something inadequate, I still want to sit right there."

Her words were strange. How did she know what he would do? Maybe it was normal to claim stupid shit when people didn't want transfer students with them, and she had changed schools before?

After talking, she gave Luke a sweet smile.

A smile that would make many boys go crazy.

A smile that gave him the chills.

He had seen a similar smile before in Jackson's face. That confirmed it for him: she was just another bully. And she had a nefarious plan coming for him.

Still, he was a boy who knew better than to accept a new bully before they fought it with his current bully. After they settled the hierarchy among themselves, he could obey the winner. For now, Jackson was still the school's king, and that meant Luke had to say something stupid enough to get sent to the principal's office, and for them to keep the new student away from him.

"I think Asian people are—" he started, but was interrupted by Akira's clap.

At first sight, it was just like any other clap. However, Luke felt something inside him an instant after the clap sounded, a cold wave that hit him and went around his body before dissipating.

Thanks to his strange memories, he recognized it at once:

Mana.