The simulated forest smelled of burnt plastic and oil. Above him, a fake sun blazed in the sky, the heat real enough to make sweat trickle down David Martins' neck.
All around him, power crackled in the air. To his left, a kid from Class 1-A threw sizzling balls of fire. To his right, another levitated chunks of fake earth, building a wall with a lazy wave of her hand.
David, meanwhile, was hiding behind a rock. A very real, very solid rock.
"Target drones inbound. Sector Gamma. Objective: capture the flag. Begin." The instructor's voice was a flat, bored monotone echoing from invisible speakers.
He peeked over the edge. A dozen silver drones buzzed toward the glowing blue flag in the center of the field. This was the final exam. A simple pass/fail.
For most, it was a chance to show off. For David, it was just another exercise in humiliation.
"Alright, Leo, what's the plan?" David whispered into his wrist-comm.
Leo Vance's voice crackled back, full of his usual, irritating optimism. "Okay, the drones are on a fixed patrol. Create a diversion on the west flank, I'll use my EMP on the two guarding the flag. It's a clean shot, man! We can do this!"
A diversion. Right.
David's one and only Awakened ability was "Perfect Echo." He could perfectly mimic any sound. A First Generation power, ranked a pathetic Level 3. The instructors called it "situational." David called it a cosmic joke. He couldn't throw a punch with anything more than his own two hands.
"What kind of diversion?" David asked, scanning the field. "I can do a convincing dog bark. Maybe they're allergic."
"Funny," Leo deadpanned. "Just make it loud. Something big."
Something big. He'd practiced for weeks, downloading audio files of a Tier-2 Razorback. He closed his eyes, focused, and let the sound build in his throat.
A guttural, earth-shaking roar erupted from behind the rock. A perfect replica. So real that even David felt a shiver run down his spine.
For a second, it worked.
Three drones broke formation, their red optical sensors swiveling toward him.
"It's working, Leo! Go!" David yelled.
He heard a faint zap from the center of the field. Two drones near the flag sputtered and fell.
"Got 'em! The flag is clear!" Leo shouted. "Get out of there, Dave!"
David scrambled to his feet, ready to bolt. His victory lasted three seconds.
"What a pathetic trick."
The voice was smooth, arrogant, and way too close. David froze. Leaning against a holographic tree was Alexander Blackwood, flanked by his brothers, Nicholas and Marcus. With them was Isabella Croft, her lips curled into a sneer.
Class 1-A's elite.
"You really thought a sound effect would work on advanced combat drones?" Alexander smirked.
He raised a hand. A wave of pure kinetic force shot out, slamming into the three drones. They exploded in a shower of sparks.
"The objective is to capture the flag, Martins, not play make-believe," Isabella said, examining her nails.
"Stay out of this, Blackwood," David said, his voice low.
Nicholas, the largest, cracked his knuckles. "Or what? You'll make a scary noise at us?"
Before David could respond, Marcus blurred past him. A rush of wind. When he looked back, Marcus was already holding the glowing flag.
"Objective complete," Marcus announced.
"Team Blackwood, pass. Team Martins, fail. Simulation terminated."
The holographic forest died, replaced by the cold, grey walls of the training room.
Alexander walked past, patting David mockingly on the shoulder. "Better luck next time, Echo. Try not to be in my class's way during the real thing."
David stood there, fists clenched. It wasn't anger. It was the cold, heavy feeling of being at the bottom of the food chain.
"I almost had it, man," Leo said by the exit, kicking a loose bolt. "If those bastards hadn't interfered…"
"It wouldn't have mattered," David cut in, his voice flat. "They would have beaten us anyway. Their powers don't involve animal impressions."
"Hey, your power is not useless," Leo said, jogging to keep up. "We just haven't found the right application!"
"Right. I'll moo until the enemy gets confused," David said with a humorless smile.
They entered the mess hall. The room was divided by an invisible line. On one side, Class 1-A laughed and ate real food. On the other, Classes 1-B and 1-C huddled over trays of grey, gelatinous paste. Nutri-slurry.
It tasted like despair.
"I've been working on a prototype," Leo said, poking at his slurry. "A vocal amplifier. We could project your voice over a kilometer. Simulate a beast stampede!"
"And what happens when they realize the stampede is just one guy with a megaphone?" David shot back. "We can't fight, Leo. We're the support class for a team that doesn't exist."
As if on cue, the hall's giant monitors flickered to life. The face of Instructor Evelyn Reed appeared, carved from granite.
The hall went silent.
"Attention, all first-year students," she began, her voice a razor. "The academy board has authorized a mandatory, live-fire assessment. This is not a simulation."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Live-fire meant real beasts. Real danger.
"You will be deployed into Zone 7 in teams of four. Objective: beast extermination and core retrieval."
She paused.
"This assessment will determine your final grade. The highest-performing teams will receive special commendations. The lowest-performing teams…" Her lips thinned into a line that was almost a smile.
"The lowest-performing teams will be demoted. Class 1-C students… you can find yourselves washed out of this academy for good."
The screen went black.
The silence was absolute. 1-A looked smug. 1-B looked terrified. And 1-C, David's class, looked like they had just been handed a death sentence.
Leo stared at his tray. "Oh," he said softly. "So that's the chance we were waiting for."
David didn't say anything. A cold thought settled in his mind.
This wasn't an assessment. This was a culling. A way to trim the fat.
And he was exactly the kind of person they were trying to filter out.