HIGH FROST SPIRIT

"Haaa!! Huuu!! Haaa!! Huuu!! Haaa!! Huuu!!"

Luke breathed rhythmically, an exercise to calm his nerves. "I can do this... I can do this... They will understand... Of course...they should ... it's not my fault...it's not my fault... I can't control fate..." he thought, self-talk deluding him into believing what he instinctively knew to be untrue.

"I still have an S+ rank mana core... Yes, I still have my mana core... Even if I didn't contract any spirit, my mana core should be enough..." He tried to find solace in his mana core, the same one that had brought him all the fame and glory... Yet the he knew it was not enough, he had failed to contract a high spirit, not even a sprite coming his way, no matter how great his mana core is, without a spirit, he knew it didn't matter.

"...Yeah, don't be nervous. It's not like they would eat me up, and even if they try, I won't go down without a fight..." he grunted. "And it's not my fault they sponsored me. No one asked them to... Yeah, it's not my fault. They don't have the right to ridicule me..." He threw blame at the rest of the world, the only way to elevate the guilt and weight he felt pressuring down on him.

He did not ask for the fame, and thus, he had nothing to repay to them. His thought process concluded, his naturally fierce expression deepened.

"Ahh, what's taking so long?!" he roared, annoyed at the brilliant white light that enveloped him. The inner parts of the gate, though lasting less than a minute, felt like hours to his anxious mind.

The light, seemingly reacting to his outburst, dimmed—a sign that he had reached his destination, the physical world.

"Hissssh, ok... ok, let's get this over with. It's really not my fault. The world will understand... " he said to himself as he stepped out into the grassfield inside the colosseum-like structure, his teeth gritted in anxiety.

"Hey, he is back..." a boy closest to Luke's exclusive gate announced, causing those who hadn't noticed his arrival to turn towards him.

"Ah, the same ten seconds, thought he being a so-called prodigy, he'll last longer..." another voice chimed in, disdain laced with a hint of envy, clearly jealous of Luke's status.

"That's what you're thinking about? The gate... his gate didn't change color..." a girl sporting a ponytail, standing beside the one who had just spoken, pointed out.

It was an observation most had already made, as that was what they were all waiting for—to see what color his gate would turn: fiery red for fire, sea blue for water, spring green for forest, metallic brown for earth, or pearl grey for air. Yet, it remained the same multi-colored hue it had been.

"Did he not get chosen...?" The teen closest to him, the first to speak, voiced the question again.

Though low, his words echoed across the grounds, as everyone stood in silence, pondering what it meant for the gate to remain unchanged.

The boy had inadvertently voiced their collective thoughts.

"I am done for. What should I do? What should I say...?" Luke's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the boy's voice, the boy's words eliciting similar questions from the crowd.

The confidence he had built earlier collapsing, his pupils dilating in reaction to his inner turmoil.

"It's not my fault. It's not my fault... it's not my fault..." The shift of blame—true or not—gave Luke a bit of strength. His bowed head lifted, meeting the gazes of all those staring at him, fierce and unwilling to be looked down upon.

"Huh, he really didn't get any contract, he is a 'Shade,'" the same boy, seemingly brought to this world to announce Luke's misfortune, voiced out, bringing everyone to a realization they thought to be impossible. Their thoughts elsewhere, trying to figure out the meaning of the gate remaining the same.

Most had the thought of maybe he had contracted a spirit king, a god, and thus his light gate couldn't register.

Their minds veering away from the obvious truth—one that even an elementary child knew—which was, 'if the gate does not change color, the person is a 'Shade,' a spiritless individual, one said to be hated by the world, hated by its creators, the spirits.'

"That can't be true, he has an S-rank mana core..." A girl with straight black hair denied, one of the many fan girls of Luke.

"Of course, it can't be..." Another supported, numerous females and a few males joining in support.

"F*ck off, you bootlickers, open your eyes. If it can't be, what do you think this means...?" A boy with reddish-brown hair, the trait of someone owning a fire spirit, said. An opportunity arising for him to attack the boy who had supposedly stolen his fame.

He was the same boy who had scorned the arrival of Luke, a teen who also had an A-rank mana core, even though not as great as Luke's. In any other generation, he would have been the talk of the town, but it was quickly overshadowed by Luke.

In the whole nine hundred and eighty, he was part of the five with A-rank mana cores, potential to contract a wraith, a high-ranking spirit just below the high spirits. Even though their powers were exponentially lesser than the high-rank spirits, they were still powerhouses in their own right.

"Look at him, he would have long denied our claims if that were true," he added, using Luke's arrogant persona to his advantage.

Luke was known to be boastful, never hiding something he knew would bring the envy of others, so most, if not all, thought of him this way.

"It can't be..."

"Is he really a Shade?"

"Did the spirits reject him?"

"The world is truly unpredictable..."

"No, my Luke can't be like that..."

"Hahaha..."

"..."

"..."

The crowd was in a buzz, rowdy, discussing Luke's seeming fall from grace.

"Hey, so-called prodigy..." The boy with the fiery red hair annoyingly tugged at Luke's shoulder, a glare that could have killed him—if only glares could kill—was shot at him by Luke, trying to hold on to the little dignity he had, even though he knew it was for naught.

He was a failure, and not only his peers but the world—the one outside of the coliseum—would do worse.

"Hey, do you think you're hot stuff...?" The boy stepped back, intimidated by Luke's glare but remembering Luke was now a Shade and he, Wraith Avatar, was better than him.

He stepped forward, clearly wanting a fight, the others who also held grudges and envy toward Luke getting closer, their intentions unscrupulous.

"BE CAREFUL, WHERE YOU STAND IS SACRED GROUND..." The projection above them warned, noticing the malice in the young teen's actions.

"Tch, we'll see each other outside," the boy clicked his tongue, whispering. He then turned to bow respectfully to the projection before heading out first.

Luke also looked up, his gaze solemn, looking past the projection that looked at him with warmth, a hint of pity in its gaze, to the camera drones floating around—the eyes of the world—witnessing his seeming fall from grace.

"I have to be strong. They are adults, maybe they will understand..."