Quest of Nemesis

The Ingenious Scholar - Part I

The ardors of time lavished continual stories, bringing with them paired, yet contrasting qualities of manhood: felicity and melancholy, success and failure, generosity and larceny, love and hate. So sheer was the impact of these abstractions that it eventually mediated the metamorphoses of tangible things enamored by ordinary men. Perhaps the onset of total human domination proved evident during the year 2023, when the advent of technology gritted to the pinnacle. The first half of the second decade had tremendously blown the global society out of its grounds; the rampancy of scientific inquisitions across the world was about to deliver a tight spot worse than any maladies and bloodshed from history.

Amid the restlessness of the established world dozed a modest boy, with all enthusiasm siphoned out of him, replaced by sloth. His long, black hair nearly covered the youthful contours of his flawless face. All lean and suited to his age, was his body resting dreamfully. In all sense of comfort, he snorted with arms and feet splayed upon his fragrant bedsheet owing its texture to the likeness of a polar bear fur. It was not typical for a man to incur himself in such position of what appeared to be apathy.

For an ideal man, the perturbing ring of morning phones embarked a hard day's toil. Yet, he was not a man, he was still a boy. The gates of human reality were just about to open in front of him – not in that exact moment. For he only carried half of life's burden, which was to accumulate sagacity, prepare his body and psyche, and implant the gears needed to aid him along perfidious battles of adult life.

Out of his dreamland, he roused to the agitating morning call of his mother, accentuated by the intermittent banging of his wooden bedroom door.

'Nemesis! Nemesis! Open your lazy eyes, don't you forget about school?' The voice loomed dinning.

'Comin'!' he answered impudently while rubbing his droopy eyes and regaining his full energy

He grabbed his phone and disappointingly stopped its alarm, which had been vibrating for over an hour (without the supposed tingly ring).

'Next time Nemesis, turn your silent mode off,' he whispered to himself exasperatingly.

Proceeding downstairs, in an almost blundering motion, Nemesis went for breakfast. He found his mother sitting with crossed legs, her rugged looks appeared to be worn out by age and years of vices. She minded her business, reading a newspaper while smoking a pipe; in return, Nemesis minded his own too. He ate hastily, ignoring her mother and the intolerable hobby. For eighteen years he had been enduring his mother's incapacity to give maternal affection, augmented by his father's absence ever since he first opened awareness as a child – which, perplexedly, was never a fancy story for her mother to talk about. The brief "no questions!" suasion drew a mile-long gap between them, albeit being the only two persons moving about their not quite cozy, two-level house.

The eighth hour saw Nemesis hurrying to leave; he completely shunned a moment to wave a quick goodbye to his mother. Ranging in a weary pace, he managed to immediately catch a bus.

'Hop in!' persuaded the driver.

Climbing aboard, he proceeded and found a seat by the window. It was his wont to irresistibly sit near the wind-blown pane, so he would gaze at the ravishing places greeting him radiantly from afar while the vehicle moved harmoniously. The road never bickered with the bus's wheels, it seemed frictionless – that, Nemesis enjoyed as he kept a staring glance outside. He saw colorful houses and edifices molded via the dictum of engineering propriety. Trees and bushes waved resiliently with the rhythm of winds. At the backdrop of such visions lied picturesque landscapes. Mountains held lush canopies, plains were dotted with trees, and the boundless blue sky was gliding above.

The ride went for nearly thirty minutes before reaching Lexmicore University- its shimmering façade profusely bragged the elitist design innovated from the recesses of Old-World architecture. The very entrance was spectacled by towering iron gates tinged in tawny paint. Around the decorous area of the campus buttressed remarkable walls stacked by mighty labor. Although the vicinity was not profusely expansive, a supreme reputation endowed the school a resounding title among the people and aspiring scholars. That supremacy had been sourced out from Lexmicore's administration of logical instructors, rational leaders and well-crafted, fluttering minds of students swarming around every corner like swathes of geniuses transfigured to human likeness.

Nemesis entered the school like any other student – with a face of little to no mirth, walking snappily as if evading any strain of mediocrity. He and every student passing randomly seemed companionless, ratifying the principle of depending to no one but themselves. With what could be described as a reproving stance, he carried no thick books or notes; he walked with a small backpack along the shining corridor floors. His determination cultivated an undisrupted vision of grasping the fruits of all his studying years and the years to come; nothing drove him persistent other than the relish for work. He considered that his unparalleled prerogative of carrying high knowledge had always been a gift from the university. The only dime for payback would be a decorous future profession.

However, at the rear of all these paces of silence and unspeakably intimidating air circuiting the outdoors, was an inner tendency waiting to pounce from Nemesis' soul and from everyone's likewise. It was the tendency to deviate from the stern aura well-maintained across the hallways and corridors. Although he was well-versed with intellectual trainings and bookish tests of precociousness, inside him presided a young spirit. He would not dispel youthful vivacity and earnestness when it came to the colorful comfort of friendship – which was thus unraveled, right after Nemesis opened the door and walked into Room 27.

It was an ambient place, well nurtured by the perpetual blow of cold air from the ventilator. The other students who filled the seat rows looked lively and gay to be with one another's cheering presence. It was in Room 27 where Nemesis had been continuing to forge the best version of himself since the first semester. He had established his existence as one of the leading students of the academe (excelling in Mathematics, Language, Sciences and even secondary degree disciplines such as Arts and Music). Well regarded by most of the professors, he stood as a role model to the class and to his fellow sophomores. Veracity and maneuvered correctness in his tasks under pressuring circumstances acquired him the honor, popularity, respect and fealty of friendship.

Spontaneous advancement in the field of Chemistry proudly reigned at the pinnacle of his complex abilities, evident in his recurring marks of excellence during examinations and practical applications. He once inadvertently humiliated a reproachful professor during his freshmen year. Never had his mates witnessed with their naked eyes an intense exchange of scientific principles, axioms and numerical evidences. Most astonishingly, never had they seen a terror teacher, fleeing out of the classroom in distraught and abashment. Nemesis was a hero, a cunning monster likewise who would send anyone musing around in dumbfounded state. Nonetheless, he stayed humble all the time.

'And here he comes – the prodigy,' a neatly boy greeted in a flattering expression. Everyone then took notice and smiled towards Nemesis.

'My mornin' had never been teased this way Charmel,' Nemesis replied with a friendly clasp on Charmel's shoulder.

'Well, who would disagree? I mean you just topped chemistry exam yesterday, and guess what-- Professor Martin was frenzied,' one of the girls ambiently said

'How's that Grace?' Nemesis replied grinningly.

'He couldn't just take the piss of perfecting his hundred-question test,' Grace said

'A test nobody even scored past seventy five percent for all these times,' Charmel added.

'Well, a typical sport for me,' Nemesis clowned. Then, everybody laughed at his joking self-appraisal.