Deep within the same mountain where the exam was taking place, three professors remained alert.
The room was a labyrinth of shadows and blue flashes. Rows of screens of different sizes lined metallic tables, projecting an intermittent glow that reflected off the walls and the polished floor.
The air was charged with a constant electrical hum, mixed with the smell of devices, cables and hot coffee.
Amid the gloom, three figures remained focused on a particular monitor, their faces illuminated by the cold, flickering light, while their eyes followed every detail displayed on the screen.
The first figure was an adult woman, probably in her thirties, with tanned skin and red hair tied back with precision.
Her glasses reflected the glow of the screens as her hands intertwined in front of her face, analyzing every detail of the image as if trying to memorize each one.
Behind her stood a younger man, in his early twenties, dressed in an impeccable suit.
His glasses partially concealed his eyes, but an amused smile was drawn across his face as he observed the same screen, his hands relaxed in his pockets.
The third person was an older man, around fifty years old, with a slightly furrowed brow. He held a tablet firmly, taking mental note of every detail, while his gaze showed expectation and concern; every change on the screen seemed to affect him deeply.
Harad broke the silence that reigned in the room:
—Samara, we need to activate Victoria's bracelet. We can't allow her to continue the exam. The shot from Victor's student already caused her significant damage. This explosion has not only worsened that injury, but according to the bracelet it has broken several of her ribs and she has burns on her skin.
Samara did not respond immediately. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, evaluating every detail before speaking.
—And you, Victor? —she finally interjected—. What do you think?
Victor rested a hand on his chin, thoughtful, while his gaze swept over the scene.
—Honestly… —he said, with a hint of contained amusement— nothing would make me happier than seeing her eliminated. Especially to annoy Yume. But objectively, I think you should let her continue.
Harad turned his head toward him, his eyes shining with disbelief, almost as if he were facing a madman.
—Are you sure we've seen the same thing, professor? —he asked, his voice firm—. I don't think I need to explain her injuries to you again. We've eliminated students for less damage. And we both know what students from a clan are like: incapable of surrendering. They believe that because they were born into a powerful family, they have something to prove.
—Don't they have something to prove? —Victor interrupted calmly—. They are prepared for this from childhood. They are taught techniques, knowledge about monsters, combat with weapons and without them before they even become Transformers. Even through Hereditary Phenomena they are guaranteed a monstrous form and powerful traits.
Of course they have something to prove. They are literally born for this; they are not like the spontaneous ones, who after an accident must adapt their future and their identity to something entirely new. So if you ask me, Victoria should not be eliminated.
Harad listened to Victor's surprising answer and, after a few seconds, decided to give in. He turned toward Samara.
—And you, Samara? —he asked—. Tell me you're not crazy.
After a brief snort, Samara spoke:
—Well… I believe Victor is partly right. It's undeniable that these students don't need the adaptation time that spontaneous ones require.
Since they were children, they knew this would be their future and they have worked and trained for it. They know the risks, the pain this profession entails. So yes, it makes sense to be more permissive with a Transformer who comes from a clan.
—But —she continued, her voice firm— it's also true that the academy watches over the safety of all its students above all else. Victoria is not Duke, who possesses an extraordinary healing factor and endurance.
She turned toward Harad and called to her assistant:
—Notify me if Victoria's injuries worsen. Only then will I authorize her elimination.
Harad nodded and activated the health and injury monitoring, sending the data to a monitor near Samara to keep a close watch on Victoria.
But seconds later, his pen almost slipped from his hands.
Victoria was moving. The blonde girl placed the palm of her left hand on the rocky, damp floor of the cave, trembling slightly under her weight.
With evident effort, she pushed herself up, letting the wall support her as her ragged breathing mixed with a thin stream of blood falling from her mouth and nose.
Her eyes reflected pain and determination in equal measure.
She summoned her golden spear, which shone with a faint glow, and drove it into the ground as if it were a support pillar.
Her right arm, torso, and face were covered in blood; skin burned by the explosion and open cuts gleamed under the dim light of the cave. She tore away the charred remains of her uniform with a firm gesture, exposing damaged flesh, without hesitation.
Using the spear as a crutch and her willpower as an engine, she began to advance.
Her eyes fixed on Liora' blood trail, her jaws clenched and her irregular breathing made it clear that no wound or burn could stop her.
She advanced with an almost superhuman resolve, a fragmented body but an intact will, determined not to yield to pain or fatigue.
Victor couldn't help whistling at what he was seeing.
—You see, my dear Harad? —he said, his voice firm, filled with certainty and a hint of satisfaction—. I told you: they are different.
Samara nodded proudly at the scene and shifted her attention to another part of the mountain.
There, a young man covered in cuts and bruises, with his arms wrapped in gray plates, was facing a swarm of ants all at once, moving with precision and restrained strength.
—What do you think of this one, Harad? —Victor asked, tilting his head toward him.
Harad lifted his gaze from the tablet and followed the monitor.
—He's your student, right? —he said, with a hint of surprise and respect—. Honestly, I thought he was finished when they locked him in that cave with all those ants. But he surprisingly has managed to adapt and evolve the more he's faced them. It's strange… of course, normally, the more you fight, the more experience you gain, and therefore the better you understand them and fight them. But you also have to consider fatigue, wear and tear, which usually makes anyone slower and causes to makw more mistakes. But this kid doesn't seem to get tired. Every confrontation has made him stronger, more efficient. Yes, it's cost him many injuries and he's out of the competition for the egg… but even so, what he's achieved is an admirable feat.
—Well, let me tell you something. I don't think he's out of the competition —Victor replied with a sly smile.
—Are you planning to contradict me on everything today, or what? —Harad shot back, somewhat irritated, raising an eyebrow.
Victor sketched a half-smile and chuckled softly, placing a hand on Harad's shoulder. —You do have to admit that justa now I was right. —He said before winking at him.