"You're late," Eden's voice cut through his thoughts.
He looked up to see the brunette with a scowl on her face. Lucien didn't even try to come up with an excuse. He sat down on the chair and prepared to face her wrath.
"You're not even going to bother telling me why you're late to a session you scheduled yourself?" She scoffed. "Unfuckingbelieveable."
The man shrugged in response. "I was busy."
"Busy doing what?"
He rolled his eyes. "Why bother asking when you don't even care?"
"You're right. But it's basic fucking manners to say something."
"Since when did we care about manners? It's just us."
Her right eye twitched before she let out a defeated sigh. "Whatever. Let's get this over with, shall we?" She said as she tied her hair back into a messy ponytail.
"Of course."
Lucien extended his hand, his brows creasing. Eden noticed the tension in his body and sighed once more. "It'd be a lot easier and faster if we proceeded with the second form of anchoring, you know."
Lucien's face scrunched up.
"You're lucky it's just me, or your reaction would hurt my feelings," she grumbled, her grip on his hand tightening.
"Sorry, it's not you, it's just—"
"We aren't compatible, it's fine, you can say it. Besides, I don't care at all, just giving you a hard time."
Lucien nodded but didn't say anything else. The two began their session. Eden's green eyes glowed a faint gold light as her energy started to sync with his. Lucien's eyes shared the same faint glow before closing his eyes and letting her in.
Anchoring was a strange and jarring experience. It was akin to having warm hands stroking you directly inside your brain. For most Strikers, it was one of the most amazing sensations they could ever feel. And for others, it was the same as stepping on something wet with socks on, touching something sticky when you just washed your hands, or worse, having someone poke inside of you over and over again until you felt sick to your stomach.
Lucien hated anchoring sessions because they always left him feeling more tired than when he first came in. It also didn't help that most people couldn't handle anchoring him. He was an S-Class Striker, which meant he demanded a lot of juice. Anchoring a powerful Striker meant draining yourself of your own energy. Luckily for him, Eden was an A-Class Anchor who had one of the highest compatibility scores with him in the entire academy.
A whopping 40%.
Believe it or not, that was incredibly high. Most Anchors scored 20% or less when it came to Lucien Saint-James, which was a shame since many Anchors would kill to become his exclusive Anchor. Unfortunately, they could barely keep up with him, and those who could were drained after 2-3 sessions. It was the reason why Eden always insisted on performing the second level of anchoring. It was the fastest and most efficient, and didn't require that many sessions.
There were different ways to anchor. The simplest one was through touch, like hand holding or light skin contact, like Eden was doing to Lucien now. The second was mucosal anchoring, i.e., contact through fluids. It was the fastest way to receive anchoring and restoring levels. This method, however, was usually reserved for people who had a pair or bond with another Striker/Anchor since it was kind of intimate, though some people were less traditional and would perform it even if they weren't paired.
After a painstaking hour, Lucien checked his levels. 87%. It wasn't a hundred, but yet again, he'd never been at such a high level before.
"Well, that'll do for now," Eden said once their contact had been severed.
He'd become a powerhouse and awakened his powers earlier than most. Lucien Saint-James didn't even have to apply to Toleran. He had been personally scouted by the Headmaster herself. There was no one like him in all of the Divisions, and it didn't help that he was such an attractive young man. It was such a shame that such a fine man was suffering this much.
Despite her grievances with him, Eden felt sorry for Lucien. She gave him shit for a lot, but she cared about him deep down. She wanted him to be happy, and in order for a high-class Striker to be happy, they needed a high-class Anchor with an even higher compatibility. Unfortunately, such an Anchor hadn't shown up yet, and perhaps they never would.
"If only," she muttered to herself.
"If only what?" Lucien asked as he fixed his jumpsuit. He had extreme hearing, so even with her silent muttering, he could hear her perfectly.
She bit her lip as she pretended to keep herself busy by organizing the emergency kit near her. "If only you could find yourself a pair."
Lucien didn't say anything for a moment before chuckling. "Yeah, I don't think they exist," he said.
His words made her frown. "But I hope to find them someday." He finished.
Her brows shot up. "...I didn't take you for an optimist, Captain Saint-James."
"I'm not. I just have an inkling they will show up, one way or another."
"...Don't tell me, do you already have someone in mind?"
The young man shrugged as he stood up and made his way to the door. "Who knows?"
He then left the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Eden to stand there, stunned.
~*~
Now that Kenneth was aware of his weaknesses, he started to train like hell in his downtime to build muscle and also increase his stamina. Body decomposition was his main goal for the next few months as he wanted to quickly change his muscle density as well as his strength.
Luckily for him, OG Kenneth was an enhanced human, which allowed him to grow at an exponential rate. In fact, after doing some extensive research on Anchor's, it would only take him a couple of months to get the results he needed, given how strong their regenerative abilities were.
He slumped on his bed after class, the day's lesson repeating in his mind over and over again. Compatibility.
To think that one word alone could hold so much power and importance.
Kenneth exhaled slowly, running his fingers through his hair. They would be required to undergo tests next week to get an idea of how their abilities worked and the protocols for anchoring between Strikers and Anchors.
He wasn't looking forward to it, but it was an essential skill to have as an Anchor, and one thing he was not about to do was be bad at a task. As he was about to close his eyes, he heard a soft knock at his door.
He opened one eye.
"Kenneth? You up?"
The young man pursed his lips as he sat up. "Yeah."
"Cool. If you're not doing anything, a couple of us were thinking of going to a gathering. Apparently, there will be a sparring match between some of the high-ranking Strikers." He said.
Kenneth lifted a brow, intrigued. "Sure, why not?"
The entire group met up downstairs, dressed in their white jumpsuits, because what else were they supposed to wear?
Fae bounced around, the excitement on her face almost contagious.
Is it strange to call a twenty-year-old woman adorable? Kenneth wondered, because that's how he felt whenever he looked at her.
They all headed for the Mercury Building, the largest one on campus. It seemed like they weren't the only ones wanting to spectate this fight.