I wiped the tear from my cheek before anyone noticed and bent down to pick up my luggage. My hands were steady, but my chest wasn't. As much as I wanted to walk up to him… to actually speak to him… I couldn't. Not yet.
I needed to be careful around him.
Especially with his unique bloodline skill, Empathy.
Finster could feel and understand the emotions of any humanoid being around him, provided he made eye-to-eye contact. Happiness, fear, hatred, guilt, yearning, everything was transparent to him. It was the reason he became so open and a bit of an airhead.
He viewed everyone as an open book, so he treated himself as one too. Naturally, there are thing that he refuse to say to anyone, but most of the time, he is the most honest person in this world.
I forced myself to look away from him, turned back to the counter, and cleared my throat.
"Is… everything done?" I asked.
The woman behind the desk checked the papers I had submitted. Her eyes skimmed through the pages quickly, then she stamped the last sheet.
"All set," she said. "Here is your entry number. Fifty-four. "She slid a small rectangular card toward me. "Please proceed to the lounge and wait for further instructions. When the staff calls your number, follow them. Do not wander and keep this visible at all times."
I nodded. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Good luck."
I stepped away from the counter. The staring didn't stop, not from the side character girl, not from the parents, and especially not from him.
I grabbed my luggage and went straight to the lounge area. Rows of cushioned seats lined the hall, with a wide glass wall showing a bright, cloudy day outside. I picked a seat in the corner and dropped my bags beside me.
Finster's and the side character girl's commotion continued at the counter. Voices rose and fell, and I didn't need to look to know Finster's eyes were still on me.
Great. I must've made a perfect first impression. I wonder what kind of emotion he sensed within me.
To kill time, I pulled out the thrum regulator strapped to my wrist and checked its readings. Stable. I adjusted my breathing, warmed my limbs, and quietly started running through the enhancement techniques I practised with the beatdown I got from Kim. Controlled bursts, slow activation, subtle pulses in the nerves. Nothing that would catch attention.
Minutes passed. People chatted, paced around, or anxiously checked their numbers. I kept my head down.
STEP.... STEP..... STEP ..... STEP.....
The crowd fell silent when a footstep echoed through the hall.
A man walked in with the kind of confidence that made everyone straighten. Blond hair with streaks of orange highlights rested above his stern eyes. His black uniform carried the Excellia emblem over the chest, and his posture alone told us he was strong.
"All examinees with numbers one through seventy," he announced, "follow me."
I left my luggage and followed him, with the rest of the group doing the same.
He turned and led us through a side hallway. I kept to the back.
We stepped into the Assessment Grounds.
The Assessment Grounds were housed in one massive chamber, wide enough that the ceiling vanished into shadow. A blurry energy wall cut the room into two main sections. Training floor on one side, observation area on the other. Rows of chairs were arranged like terraces along the viewing side, giving every applicant a clear angle toward the testing zone. The assessment floor itself held floating screens with the number 00 written on them.
The instructor faced us and spoke in a clear voice.
"When your number is called, enter the fortified room," he said, pointing at the glass chamber. "We will begin your assessment one by one. Do not attempt to enter before your turn, and do not interfere with other examinees."
He walked into the glass room and the heavy door closed behind him.
"Number one," the speaker in the room said, and the floating screen changed from 00 to 01."
A boy stepped forward....
Five minutes later, he came out looking crushed, face pale, shoulders slumped. The moment he stepped out, students swarmed him, begging for details about the exam.
I crouched near the back and continued my warm-up. The students filled examinee number one with questions, but I ignored them. I already knew what the exam would be. The only thing that didn't happen was the verification I expected. No instructor came running to confirm my absurd potential listing. No bait was taken.
Strange… but it was fine.
More numbers were called. Some students walked out pale and shaken, barely able to stand straight, while others came out with wide grins, relieved or proud of their results. Azaleia was one of the latter, wearing her usual confident, smug expression as she strutted past the crowd. Finster followed soon after, his innocent smile unchanged, as if the exam had been nothing more than a light warm-up.
Then finally—
"Fifty-four."
I stood up, exhaled once, and walked into the fortified room.
The instructor was waiting with his arms crossed. His expression was relaxed yet measured.
"We'll keep this simple," he said. "This exam has three phases."
He raised a finger.
"Strength. You may attack me three times in any manner. I will judge your result."
A second finger.
"Dexterity. I will attack you. Your reactions will determine your score."
Then he held up a small sphere the size of an apple. It pulsed with dim energy.
"Endurance. This device will drain your stored thrum. Your task is to resist it and keep it glowing. The longer you last, the higher your evaluation."
He placed the ball on a stand.
The instructor tapped his foot once on the floor.
"Strength assessment. Three attempts. Begin whenever you are ready."
I approached him slowly. My breathing settled, my shoulders squared, and I raised my fists into a basic stance. Nothing special, nothing enhanced. Just my body.
I threw a simple punch.
*thump....*
He then caught it with a single hand with no shift in weight. His eyes barely blinked.
"That is your first try?" he asked, voice edged with mild disappointment.
"Yes."
"You may attempt again," he said, the tone sharpening as if he expected more.
"Thank you for the opportunity, but that's my first try. I'll proceed with my second hit now," I said as I assumed the same stance again.
I lifted my hand, this time wrapped in a transparent blue coat of enhancement. It shimmered faintly with the color of my thrum.
I punched again.
*thump....*
He blocked it the same way as before, catching my knuckles without flinching, but irritation slipped through.
"Enhancement does not amplify the power of a punch. It is primarily for protection or impact reduction," he said, patience thinning.
"If this is the extent of your strength then-"
"I know."
His words cut off when I turned my back on him and walked a few steps away. Professionalism cracked in the silence behind me, confusion, annoyance, all bleeding into the air.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
I did not answer.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe, slow and steady, until the room faded away.
In the dark behind my eyelids, the memories came back clearer.
Memories of Kim came back, not the emotional ones, not even the painful lessons—just the simple, irritating fact that no matter how hard I tried, I never managed to land a clean punch on her. Not even once. She dodged everything like it was effortless, like I was some kid swinging at air.
As much as I appreciated what she taught me, she still broke me more than she ever needed to, both mentally and physically. And after all of that, she walked away without a single bruise. That alone was enough to annoy me more than I expected.
So I pulled every ounce of that leftover frustration to the front of my mind. Every failed punch. Every blocked strike. Every moment she stood there, untouched, with a blank look on her face. I let all of it sit in my chest until it burned.
And then I opened my eyes.
The instructor was gone from my sight. In his place stood Kim. Stupid, emotionless, unreadable. That face that never changed, no matter how badly I struggled.
Seeing that look again was all it took.
I snapped....
I fucking snapped.
I posed into a sprinter's stance. My fingers twitched with the urge to break something. The voice of the instructor merged with Kim's.
"What are you doing. Are you actually giving up?"
The spark inside me ignited into something fierce.
I enhanced my arms and legs to the limit, every nerve screaming from the pressure. The air vibrated around my limbs. I grounded my heel, gathering thrum until my muscles trembled.
Then I exploded my feet.
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!*
The floor cracked under me, a crater forming from the released force. I shot forward in a violent burst, the air tearing behind me as I flew toward him.
Mid-flight, I clenched my fist so hard my knuckles popped. My whole body tightened into a single directed strike.
At the exact moment my fist reached his chin, I detonated my fist as well.
*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!*
The explosion rattled the entire chamber. A burst of air erupted outward, sending papers flying, toppling crates, even knocking the glowing endurance ball off its stand. The shockwave echoed like thunder against the walls.
I landed hard and exhaled.
"That is for one week of hell, Kim," I muttered.
The illusion in my mind faded. The instructor stood where Kim had been, though his boots had been dragged five feet back from the impact point. His chin was still in perfect shape, yet his glare was sharp enough to cut.
He had taken the hit. He was still standing. But he had not expected that. Not from someone who started with two useless punches.
His voice was tight when he finally spoke.
"Third attempt… registered."