The year was 2065.
Above Skyler City's Central Dome, the sky stretched in a cold, metallic gray—the kind that reflected the city itself, a monument of steel and obsession where humanity's future was forged and discarded.
Every twenty-five years, the world gathered to witness an event that decided their next defenders. Not soldiers. Not heroes. But the chosen fifty: humanity's new Elite Xeon warriors.
Today, that brutal campaign began.
The selection plaza shimmered beneath layers of holographic feeds as millions tuned in. Below, candidates jostled for position—genetically engineered prodigies, musclebound gladiators, pampered heirs sponsored by billion-credit corporations. Their breath was heavy with ambition, greed, or desperation.
And at the very back, Candidate 4921 stood in silence.
A boy in torn boots. Clothes threadbare. Skin bearing old scars. But his eyes—sharp, steady, and unyielding.
His name was Auren.
Most saw a nobody.
But to him, this moment was everything.
Because of her.
Luna—his younger sister. The only family he had left. Two years ago, she had been diagnosed with a cruel, incurable genetic disease. It stole consciousness first—trapping patients in unending sleep—then claimed their lives. No treatment. No reprieve.
No hope.
Until whispers of hope had reached Auren's ears.
An antidote. Orin-X0.
A marvel of science woven into the flesh of Elite Xeon officers. It didn't just heal—it rewrote humanity itself, evolving genes, unlocking dormant potential, overriding fatal conditions. But no one could buy it. Not for credits. Not for power.
It had to be earned.
By surviving the Xeon Trials.
By claiming a place among the fifty.
For months, for years, Auren had clawed and bled through the harshest conditions, holding nothing but determination as his weapon. And now… now he stood here, on the edge of destiny.
The air shifted.
A voice thundered through the arena, deep and merciless.
"Test One: Neuro-Reflex Arena."
The candidates were swallowed in blinding light. When it cleared, the test stood before them—an arena of shifting terrains, walls that breathed like living steel, drones with razor wings screaming above, illusions twisting reality with every pulse of light.
"Begin."
Pandemonium.
Screams filled the air as bodies twisted and fell. Limbs burned, illusions swallowed minds. The weak were cut down in mere seconds. Others fought desperately, relying on brute strength, claws, blades, or energy hacks.
And there—amid the carnage—Auren stood, blood trickling from his forehead, his breathing ragged. His body was weary, covered in scars old and new his boots slipping in pools of blood.
He was too slow. Too fragile. Too human.
Until fate changed.
A massive brute barreled into him, hurling Auren toward an incoming explosion. Shock seared through his mind— I let my guard down.
Flashes of his past assaulted him. Luna's pale face, motionless in her hospital bed. Years of suffering. The promise he had made.
No… Not yet. I can't die yet.
Something awakened.
Heat flooded his veins. His heartbeat thundered like war drums. His pupils dilated, washed into a void of white. Reflexes long buried roared alive—feral, precise, unexplainable.
The explosion bloomed—too quick, too vast—
But Auren moved.
The ground shattered beneath his stride as he twisted, sprinting through the fire before it claimed him. An echoing blast lit the arena, the shockwave swallowing dozens of candidates.
The brute grinned, satisfied.
"Burned to ash, kid."
Yet from behind him, a voice pierced through the crackle of flames—low, merciless.
"Die."
The brute turned just in time to feel Auren's fist pierce through his chest, fingers crushing the life out of his heart. The man never even saw his killer's face.
And in that moment—everyone else understood.
This boy was not prey.
This boy was death walking.
Auren's instincts sharpened with newfound clarity. Explosions became patterns in his eyes, illusions broke before they reached him. Reflexes told him when to move before attacks were even launched. His memory recorded each tactic flawlessly. One by one, stronger candidates fell—not by chance, but by inevitability.
The audience above whispered.
"Who is this nobody?"
"Where did he come from?"
The test ended in silence, broken bodies scattered like discarded puppets. On the big screen, fifty names appeared—ranked.
Auren's breath steadied as his number lit up:
Candidate 4921 – Rank: 50th.
Silence gripped him for only a second before pain returned. His awakened body rebelled. Blood burst from his mouth, red tears leaked from his eyes. His body screamed in agony as he collapsed, unconscious.
High above the arena, she watched.
Alys Virellis—graceful in her immaculate exo-suit, hair black as obsidian. To the world she was elegance. To herself, she was destiny.
And yet… her hands tightened when the screen shifted again.
Candidate 2256 – Rank: 51st.
Her pride cracked.
Later, as the chosen candidates were confirmed, security escorted the battered fifty to a waiting chamber beneath the dome's steel heart.
Auren blinked, pain smoldering through his body as he struggled to stay upright. He barely had time to register the sterile lights overhead before a figure approached.
The air sharpened—a presence that sliced through mutters and suspicion.
Alys Virellis drifted into view, her white exo-suit gleaming, her steps measured and confident. A small, practiced smile curled on her lips, but her eyes shone with a cold calculation.
She waited until all eyes were on them, then leaned close, lowering her voice so only Auren could hear:
"Ten million credits," she murmured. "Step down. Walk away. It'll buy you a new life—maybe a dozen, if you're clever."
Auren's response was quiet, exhausted. He neither flinched nor looked away.
"I'm not here for glory or credits. My sister needs the antidote."
Alys's smile wavered, shadows flickering in her eyes.
"So what?" Her tone sharpened. "I have a future to lead. You? No name, no power, no legacy. Take the money, disappear. You should thank me."
He shook his head, blood drying on his lip.
"Desperation makes people do things you wouldn't understand."
He turned away, his steps slow and uneven—but the message was clear. He would not surrender.
That moment crept into the arena's memory like an unspoken curse.
Alys's pride snapped. The humiliation burned deep—far more than any battle wound.
And Auren knew, as he left her standing in the crowd, that he had made an enemy whose reach was as deep as her ambition.
Crucible Arrival
The fifty were transported to Iron Sector Zero—a wasteland of shattered metal and glaring lights, colloquially known as "The Crucible."
This was no training camp.
It was a place designed to break minds and bodies before forging something stronger, or leaving the scraps behind.
Auren staggered through the gates, clutching his issued uniform and a sealed package.
But as he entered the spartan barracks, surprise painted his battered face.
Alys was already there, gleaming with confidence among the survivors.
He whispered, half in disbelief, "How…?"
She spotted him, lips curling in a perfect, cold smile.
She approached, her every gesture a performance for onlookers, her malice wrapped in elegance.
Leaning in, she whispered:
"Wondering how I got in?" Her breath was cool against his ear. "You'll find out soon enough. For now… good luck."
She glided away, leaving him dazed.
Moments later, the camp instructor bellowed:
"Attention, cadets! As you may have noticed, Cadet Alys Virellis joins your ranks. The original Cadet 48 withdrew—no official reason. Cadet 51 was next in line. She's here by merit. Dismissed."
Auren stumbled to his assigned room, opening the package hesitantly.
Inside: a phone, uniform, and a single message blinking on the screen.
Threats Unveiled
From: Alys Virellis
Not everyone is noble like you. Cadet 48 refused me too—until sixty million credits changed their mind.
Auren sighed, the weight of invisible war pressing on him. He typed a reply:
Miss Virellis, I refused for a reason. I meant no insult. Please don't take it personally.
The response was instant.
Alys:
"Don't take it personally? You humiliated me. Hurt my pride. Now you'll pay for it. Not just you. Your sister, too. I'll destroy the reason you dared refuse me."
Auren read it twice in silence.
She was powerful. Ruthless. Untouchable.
But his desperation ran deeper than fear, and sadness deeper than hate.
He tossed the phone aside, breathing in the cold air, steeling himself for the future.
The true Crucible had only just begun.