Call Of The Tamer - Chapter 1: Mikhael's Awakening

Michael was anxious, his heart racing as his blood ran hot, forcing beads of sweat to seep from his pores. Staying still was not familiar to him. He fidgeted in his chair, tapping his fingers on the rough, leather armrest as the sound of keys clacking and a mouse clicking furthered his unrest. As much as he wanted to leave and wash his face in the bathroom, Michael forced himself to sit still, exhaling deeply. Today was the day he had been waiting for, the day he had worked and studied for countless hours to arrive at. But nothing yet. He groaned. Great, how much longer did he have to wait?

Unable to bear it, he hummed a tune and shook his leg as he watched his guidance counselor type away on the keyboard but give no response. The silence was torturous. He couldn't endure it any longer and opened his mouth to speak up, but Mr. Elijah shook his head, and Michael shut his mouth, gritting his teeth, knowing no reply had arrived yet. Suddenly, many cheers and whoops, far past the allowed volume levels inside the school, broke out outside Mr. Elijah's office like cheers at a basketball game, followed by several loud bangs, startling Michal as he jolted in his seat. The other students were definitely celebrating, slapping the counters and walls, surely receiving the good news of their admissions. Oh, how he wished to join them and kick the damned counters himself.

Oddly, no one reprimanded them or scolded them to quiet down. Michael guessed the teachers and staff decided to let the others have this moment, but he frowned and rubbed his face, stressful sweat greasing his hair. When was his moment? Forget that; what if he failed? Michael sighed and groaned to the ceiling, banging his head on the chair. For three years, he studied to achieve good grades, worked hard at the clubs to secure leadership positions, and volunteered at the animal shelter. Well, it wasn't all for getting into college.

Michael looked back on the three long years from a freshman to a junior. Whenever he got a good grade, his mother smiled brightly and cheered, her smile lifting his mood and asserting it was all worth the hours spent. Michael enjoyed every moment with his friends and clubmates. He especially loved the animals in the shelter, the small and big tykes scratching his legs while trying to sniff and lick his face. That reminded him. He had to help out today.

"Ok," Mr. Elijah adjusted his glasses below his bald head. Michal stiffened in his seat and held his breath as Mr. Elijah clicked several times and rubbed his hands together. His guidance counselor turned to him and asked, "Ready?"

"Yup. Yup. What is it?" Michael leaned forward. The perfect positioning of Mr. Elijah's computer prevented him from seeing what was on the screen. The room was deadly silent as Mr. Elijah didn't answer, the old counselor up to his usual pranks. However, today, it didn't bother Michael since the results had to be given to him no matter what.

"Your early admission to N. University has been–" Mr. Elijah paused for dramatic effect, irking Michael, but used to these tricks, Michael nodded and waited, "-accepted!" Mr. Elijah applauded as a smile stretched across his lips. He banged the table and stated, "With! A full scholarship! Congrats, Mike! You did it!"

"YES! FUCK YES!" Michael rose from his seat, the chair flipping over and clattering to the floor. Apologizing, he neatly placed the chair back in its original position. The news numbed his mind, delight and joy flushing his face red. He flailed his arms as if fanning himself and asked, "That's everything, right? No tuition, free dorms, free meal plan. The whole package?"

"What else for you, Mike?" Mr. Elijah reached out his fist, and Michael bumped it, thanking him. He cleared his throat and said sternly, "The full details will be sent by email and regular mail. Make sure not to forget the deadline for accepting, alright? Now, get out there and enjoy. I hear others celebrating."

"Thanks, Mr. Elijah!" Michael picked up his bag, worn and torn but usable, and strapped it on his shoulders. He pushed the door wide open, the knob slamming onto the wall.

"Hey! You still have to graduate! Don't mess up your last year here!" Mr. Elijah shouted.

"No prob!" Michael rushed out and did the first thing he swore to do, banging his hands on the long counter that stretched from one end of the guidance office to the other. He passed by other closed doors where other counselors were in session with their students, not banging on them since it would be rude. He found a group of other students jumping up and down in a huddle and shouted to them, "I got in!"

"Let's go!!!!" The others swarmed him and cheered, high-fives all around. Some he knew, some he didn't, but they all shared the feeling and enjoyed the sweet taste of success together. His ears started to numb, and his throat became hoarse from all the screaming he had done and heard, the whoops and cheers not stopping as more students joined in the pile, keeping the party alive. He looked at the clock and saw the time ticking close to 3 pm.

'Shit! I'm going to be late!' Michael said farewell to everyone in the rowdy huddle and slipped out, panting as sweat drenched his back and leaked onto his bookbag. It was horribly hot in that pile. But he couldn't rest. Stamping out of the office, he leaped down the hallway and turned a left corner, arriving at the front entrance. The security guard at the front waved goodbye. Michael slammed his shoulder on the door and forced his way out, the immediate rush of cool winds a pleasant relief. School buses blared their horns as cars tried to funnel through the small street, honking back in return.

Michael unlocked his phone and scrolled through the contacts, tapping on one, his mother. Running down the sidewalk, he waved goodbye to several others as the dial tone rang in his ear. It rang and rang for several seconds until a quiet click ended it, and his mother's mellow, gentle voice called out. He smiled widely and said, "Mom?"

"Michael? Is it good news?" She seemed to have noticed the delight in his voice. He wasn't the best at hiding his emotions, so that was on him.

"Yes! I got in!" Michael almost dropped his phone because of how hard he shook it. He grasped it firmly.

"You did?! Praise God!" His mother raised her voice in clear delight.

"I did! And guess what! Full ride! Everything is paid for; you and Dad don't have to worry about me anymore. Now you can bother Grace instead of me." Michael laughed. His stepsister, five years younger than him, was still in middle school, but soon, she'd have to endure the same ramblings from their parents about college and the future. Thinking of her pouting face, Michael cackled evilly. It's not that he didn't like her; he loved his sister, but he couldn't help but enjoy her frustration and tease her often.

"We'll always worry for you. Next is finding a girlfriend, getting married, and having grandchildren. I'm not getting any younger here, honey." His mom brought up another persistent point about his future.

"I'm still 17, mom! Let me enjoy college first." Michael stopped for a moment, catching his breath at the light.

"Oh, if I hear you've been drinking or partying in college, I will drag you out of there myself." His mom threatened. "I'm still iffy about letting you dorm. I'll have to find a church nearby for you to attend."

"Promise I won't do anything bad. Trust me." Michael sighed and consoled his worrisome mother. Though, he couldn't be sure of keeping that promise. He heard from his friends that the parties in N. University were outrageous and the best in the state. He peeked at the light, seeing it was still red as cars zipped by, the winds from their speed brushing his hair.

"Ok. Then, what do you want for dinner? We can go out and celebrate, or I can cook up a feast." His mom spoke softly again.

"Can we go out to Vinny's?" Michael suggested his favorite Italian restaurant. Their portions were large enough for two people to eat one plate, and the endless freshly baked bread with olive oil and oregano as a dip was to die for. The mere thought made Michael gulp back the drool. His mother laughed and agreed, urging him to hurry home. The phone call ended, and Michael hummed, waiting for the light to flash white. 'I only need to get through this last year.' Michael thought, dreaming of his college life.

"Watch out!" Someone shouted.

"Huh?" Michael turned to the man who was sprinting toward him while pointing up. He glanced up and couldn't react as a large steel beam slammed onto his shoulder. An unbearable pain spread through his body, and he tried to scream, but no sounds came from his mouth. Construction workers on the roof began to yell and point at him, and a crowd gathered around him, many calling for the police and ambulance. But their cries went mute. Soon, everything felt numb and cold. He grimaced and struggled. However, the beam was too heavy, binding him to the sidewalk. 'No…why?' Michael gasped as the last bits of air squeezed out from his lungs, and darkness shrouded his vision until all that remained was it.

'Mom…Dad…Grace. Please no. Let me live.' Michael prayed to any higher powers out there. Though his mother was a devout believer, he was not so devoted. He still attended every Sunday service for her sake, not out of faith, but right now, he had no one else to turn to. 'Please, if you're out there. Let me live.' His words didn't seem to reach anyone since the darkness remained, and he could no longer think.

…….

"Ah!" Michael screamed, opening his eyes. As his vision recovered, he noticed he was in a dirty alleyway, the stench of waste and garbage thick and disgusting. Did he end up in a dump? Taking in his surroundings, Michael blinked several times, wondering where he was. The sun barely shone from the narrow gap between the two tall, stone buildings, the light not reaching him in this dark alley. Strangely, they resembled the gothic-style buildings of old churches in his home. Pointed spires speared high and tall while statues of gargoyles rested on their pedestals.

"Where am I?" Michael mumbled, then widened his eyes in shock. His voice had changed, far higher than his previously somewhat deeper voice after he hit puberty. As he lifted his hands to rub his neck, believing he had a sore, he halted and observed his small hands, little stubby fingers clenching and closing. These were not his hands; no, they were not. Michael glanced over his body, realizing he had shrunk, his legs short and thin to the bone.

"What's going on? Hello?" Michael called out, and no one replied. He spotted a broken wooden wheel, the kind he saw in a pirate movie for steering a ship. Was this an elaborate prank? No, it seemed too strange for a mere prank. Michael shook his head and calmed down, thinking back on what happened. 'I died or blacked out. Then, I ended up here. What's happening to me?' The discomfort of it all hit him, and he vomited, adding to the foul stench lingering in the air.

Bark!

"What the? A dog?" Michael dragged his weak legs and failed, stumbling to the ground. A whimper closed in, followed by the usual panting he had heard countless times in the shelter. A small puppy emerged from the dark end of the alley. Streaks and strands of dull, golden fur could be seen through the muck and dirt covering the dog. 'A golden retriever?' Michael identified the dog with a keen eye for separating the breeds, an instinct he had trained after three years of volunteering at the shelter. Undeniably, the dog was a golden retriever, and it was abandoned.

"Hey, little guy. Don't worry. I'll take you to the shelter, clean you up, and feed you. Once I find where we are." Michael struggled to get used to his new voice but found comfort in the dog's company and stroked its dirty head, not minding it since his hands were dirty anyway. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed into his brain, like needles targeting his nerves. He clutched his head and screamed, veins popping against the skin of his forehead. A voice resounded, drowning out his screams. It was human yet not human, not mechanical enough to be a robot, but missing the usual vividness of a human.

Welcome, Awakened One!

Congratulations on your Awakening!

Here is your Status!

Name: Mikhael
Age: 12
Class: Beast Tamer [FFF]
Strength: FFF
Endurance: FF
Vitality: FFF
Agility: FF
Magic: FF
Active Skills: Tame [FFF]
Passive Skills: Unlimited Evolution [???], March Of The Beasts[???]
Traits: None

"Awakened one? Who's talking?" Michael shouted.