The air in the training yard crackled with energy. Not just the hum of the facility's power dampeners, but the raw, nervous energy of students desperate to prove themselves.
Today was a showcase. A chance to be seen before the Academy recommendations were finalized.
At the center of it all, as always, was Ren.
He moved with an easy, predatory grace. A pitching machine fired solid rubber balls at him at over a hundred miles per hour. He didn't dodge. He simply held out a hand, palm open.
The first ball stopped dead an inch from his skin, glowing with a faint purple energy. He caught a second, then a third, each one hovering in the air around him, crackling with absorbed kinetic force.
"Observe, class," Mr. Aris said, his voice holding a rare note of excitement. "This is perfect control. Ren isn't just stopping the projectiles; he's mastering their energy. This is Academy-level precision."
With a flick of his wrist, Ren sent the three balls rocketing back. They struck the machine's target in a pattern so tight it looked like a single impact.
The students erupted in gasps and applause.
"He's incredible." "No-effort." "The scouts are going to love him."
Kael stood at the edge of the group, a forgotten ghost. The praise for Ren was a physical weight, pressing him down. "That's what they see as a hero," he thought. "Effortless power. Overwhelming strength."
As the applause died down, Ren's cool gaze swept over the students and landed, with pinpoint accuracy, on Kael. A slow, condescending smirk spread across his face.
He walked over, his confidence a tangible aura. The other students parted for him like he was royalty.
"I heard a funny rumor, Kael," Ren said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Someone told me you were thinking of registering for the Academy entrance exam."
The air went still. All eyes were on Kael. He felt his face heat up, a hundred pairs of eyes boring into him.
"It's not a rumor," Kael said, his voice quieter than he'd hoped.
Ren let out a short, cruel laugh. "You? Don't be a fool. You'll embarrass not just yourself, but the entire school. The exam is for people with potential. Not for… whatever you are."
"It's a test to become a hero," Kael shot back, finding a sliver of defiance. "It's not just for people who can throw balls hard."
The crowd of students snickered. Ren's smirk tightened.
"Power is the only thing that matters. And you have none. Someone like you shouldn't even be allowed to dream of standing on that stage."
The words were a hammer blow. Kael's resolve wavered, the humiliation churning in his gut. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to agree, to run away, to hide.
But then he remembered the rooftop. The vow he made to himself. That promise was his shield.
He lifted his chin, meeting Ren's arrogant stare.
"I'm still going to take it."
Ren's face hardened, the smirk vanishing. He looked at Kael as if he were a piece of trash that had just spoken back to him. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
The other students kept their distance, whispering. Kael stood alone, his fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his skin. The public declaration had cost him, but it had also forged something new inside him.
His vow was no longer a secret. It was a challenge.
—--
The gymnasium was sterile and silent, a stark contrast to the dynamic energy of the training yard. This was the formal Power Assessment. No flair, just metrics. A single, unblinking sensor array measured output, control, and potential.
"Next, Ren!" Mr. Aris called out.
Ren strode to the center of the floor. He gave a slight, almost bored nod. The sensor whirred to life, and a series of small, fast-moving drones were released from the walls.
What followed was a masterclass.
Ren didn't just absorb their energy; he manipulated it. He created a swirling vortex of kinetic force that gently captured the drones, stripping them of their momentum without damaging them. Then, with fluid precision, he sent them back to their charging ports in a perfectly synchronized dance. The display was elegant, efficient, and utterly overwhelming.
The final score flashed on the screen: 9.8/10. Potential: S-Rank.
A wave of whispers filled the gym. "S-Rank potential? That's pro-hero level!" "He's a monster."
Mr. Aris was beaming. "Excellent, Ren! A model of control and power!"
After a few more students showed off their respectable, if uninspired, abilities, the teacher's eyes landed on the bottom of his list. He sighed.
"Next, Kael."
Every head turned. The whispers turned to stifled giggles. Kael felt his heart pound as he walked to the center of the gym. The floor felt a mile wide.
"Okay. Just focus. Not for them. For me. Show something. Anything."
The test for low-output Evolves was simple: focus your ability on a target sensor for ten seconds. The goal was to show stability and concentration.
Kael took a deep breath, extending his hand toward the sensor. He closed his eyes and poured every bit of his will into his power. He imagined a beam of light, steady and strong, lancing out from his palm.
He opened his eyes.
A pathetic, flickering glow, no brighter than a dying firefly, sputtered from his hand. It wavered, dimmed, and pulsed erratically. It didn't even reach the sensor five feet away. After a few agonizing seconds, it died completely.
Laughter echoed through the gym. It was open this time, sharp and merciless.
"Is that it?" "My phone screen is brighter than that!"
The final score appeared. 1.2/10. Potential: F-Rank.
The lowest possible score.
Kael stood frozen, his arm still outstretched. The number on the screen burned into his retina, a brand marking him as a failure. The weight of every doubt, every insult, crashed down on him.
"They're right. Ren was right. This is a joke. I'm a joke."
He saw Mr. Aris shake his head, a look of profound disappointment on his face. It was worse than the laughter.
He dropped his arm, his face burning with shame. As he walked off the floor, avoiding everyone's eyes, a single thought fought its way through the humiliation. It was the memory of the old man's grateful face.
"This test… this isn't what it's about."
He clenched his fists in his pockets, the shame warring with a stubborn spark of defiance.
"I will get stronger. I'll show them all."
—--
The sting of his failure followed Kael all the way home. The 'F-Rank' felt like it was tattooed on his forehead. Every shadow in the evening light seemed to mock him.
He was cutting through a familiar market street, now mostly deserted as vendors packed up for the day, when he heard a sudden cry of alarm.
"Hey! Give that back!"
Ahead, a young woman was struggling with a wiry man who had snatched her purse. The man cackled, his skin shimmering with a slick, oily sheen.
"Try and grab me, sweetheart," he sneered. "My Evolve makes me slippery as an eel."
He shoved her, and she stumbled to the ground. The man turned to run, heading straight for Kael's alleyway.
Kael's body went rigid. Fear, cold and immediate, seized him. "An Evolve user. A real villain. What can I do? My power is a 1.2. A joke."
His mind screamed at him to stay hidden. He'd only get hurt. It wasn't his problem.
But the woman on the ground was crying, and the villain's smug, cruel face made something in Kael's chest burn hotter than his shame.
"No. Not again. I won't just stand here."
He didn't have a plan. He just acted.
As the purse-snatcher sprinted toward him, Kael ducked behind a large stack of empty wooden crates. The man was fast, his slippery skin making him hard to track.
"I can't fight him. I can't stop him. So I have to surprise him."
Just as the man was about to pass the crates, Kael focused, shoving every bit of energy he had into one, single burst. He didn't aim for the man himself. He aimed for his eyes.
He thrust his hand out from behind the crates and unleashed the brightest flash he could manage.
It wasn't much—more like a camera flash than a stun grenade—but in the dim alley, it was blinding.
"Agh! My eyes!" the villain screamed, stumbling backward, completely disoriented. He tripped over a discarded bucket, crashing hard onto the pavement. The purse flew from his grasp.
Kael didn't hesitate. He scrambled out, grabbed the purse, and tossed it back to the woman, who was now getting to her feet.
"Run!" he yelled.
The villain was already recovering, shaking his head to clear his vision. He locked his furious, red-rimmed eyes on Kael.
"You little punk!"
He lunged. Kael tried to dodge, but the man was too quick. A slick, powerful arm slammed into his side, sending him flying into the brick wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and a sharp pain shot through his ribs.
But the delay was enough. The woman was already at the end of the street, screaming for help. Footsteps pounded nearby.
The villain cursed, shot Kael a final, venomous look, and scrambled away into the opposite alley.
Kael slid down the wall, gasping for breath, his side throbbing. He was bruised, exhausted, and every muscle ached. But as he looked at the recovered purse on the ground, a feeling washed over him that no score could measure.
It was the feeling of making a difference.
—--
Back in his room, the world outside faded away. The only sounds were the faint hum of the city and Kael's own ragged breathing.
He peeled back his shirt, wincing as he looked in the mirror. A nasty, purple bruise was already forming on his ribs where he'd hit the wall. It was an ugly mark. A testament to his weakness.
He sank onto the edge of his bed, the cold reality of the day settling in.
The assessment. The laughter. The F-Rank.
"They measured me and found nothing," he thought, tracing the edge of the bruise with his finger. "Ren was right. I have no power. I got lucky today. That's all."
The voice of doubt was a venomous whisper, stronger than ever. The humiliation from the gym felt fresh, the memory of the flickering light a deep, cutting shame. How could he ever hope to pass the Academy exam? He couldn't even pass a simple school assessment.
He was a fraud. A wannabe. A joke.
He let his head fall into his hands, the despair threatening to swallow him whole.
But then, another memory surfaced. Not the villain's angry face, but the woman's. The look of pure, unadulterated relief when he'd thrown her the purse. The sound of her calling for help, a sound that only happened because he'd given her the chance.
He hadn't won with power. He had won with a spark. A distraction. He had used what little he had to create an opening for someone else to be safe.
He sat up straight, his gaze sharpening.
"The Academy… the teachers… they measure output. Raw strength. How much energy you can produce."
He looked at his bruise in the mirror again.
"But that's not what being a hero is. A hero isn't someone who never gets hit. A hero is someone who's willing to get hit for someone else."
A quiet understanding began to dawn in the silence of his room.
The world saw strength as flashy abilities and S-Rank potential. But maybe true strength was different. Maybe it was about stepping into an alley when every instinct told you to run. Maybe it was about using your weakness creatively.
He felt a quiet, defiant spark of pride. The bruise on his side wasn't a mark of failure.
It was a medal.
His mind was clear. His purpose, once a blurry dream, was now crystal-clear. He wasn't doing this to be the strongest.
He was doing this to be there when someone needed help.
—--
The registration hall for the National Hero Academy was designed to intimidate.
The ceiling soared hundreds of feet into the air, carved from white marble that seemed to glow with its own internal light. Massive holographic banners displayed images of the nation's top heroes, their gazes stern and inspiring.
The hall was packed. Hundreds of teenagers, all buzzing with energy and ambition, filled the vast space. Kael felt like a mouse in a lion's den. Power, real power, radiated from these kids in waves. He saw a girl casually shaping a ball of fire in her palm, and a boy whose arms were made of shimmering, liquid steel.
He had never felt so small. So completely and utterly out of his league.
"This is a mistake," the voice of doubt whispered. "Look at them. You don't belong here."
He clutched the registration form in his hand, the paper growing damp from his sweaty palm. He took a hesitant step toward the long line for submissions, trying to make himself invisible.
It didn't work.
"Well, well. I honestly didn't think you'd have the nerve to show up."
Kael froze. Ren stood before him, flanked by a group of equally confident-looking applicants. He wasn't sneering. He just looked… bored. As if Kael's presence was a minor, uninteresting annoyance.
"What's the point, Kael?" Ren asked, his voice casual but carrying enough that those nearby turned to listen. "You flunked a simple school assessment. The Academy exam is a hundred times harder. Why are you so determined to humiliate yourself on a national stage?"
Kael looked from Ren's dismissive face to the powerful applicants around him. The doubt was a physical weight, trying to crush him. He could just turn around. Walk away. No one would blame him. It was the logical choice.
But logic wasn't what got him here.
He thought of the bruise on his ribs. He thought of his vow on the rooftop.
He finally met Ren's gaze, his own eyes clear and steady. "Because even if I fail, I have to try."
Ren just shook his head, a flicker of pity in his eyes. "You're pathetic. Don't bother looking for me after the first round. You won't make it that far."
He turned and walked away, his friends snickering as they followed.
Kael watched him go, but the words didn't hurt as much this time. They felt… irrelevant.
He took a deep breath, walked past the stares and whispers, and stepped up to the registration desk. The clerk, a tired-looking woman, barely glanced at him.
"Form?"
He placed it on the counter. His hands were perfectly steady now.
"Maybe he's right. Maybe I am the weakest person here. Maybe I will fail."
The clerk took the form, her stamp hovering over the page.
"But I'm still here. And I'm not running away."
The stamp came down with a loud, final thump.
[REGISTERED]
It was official.
Kael took his receipt, turned his back on the intimidating hall, and walked out into the sunlight. The road to the exam had just begun.
—--
End of Chapter 2