You! Get over to this row! No... hey, where do you think you're going? Stop shouting, stop moving!"
The harsh voices of men barking orders rang out across the square.
At the busiest side of the market, NHF military personnel had arrived. They usually showed up every three months to run compatibility tests on the outskirt kids, discerning who had the potential to join the military. One could say it was an examination for a promised better life. Children of the outskirts saw military service as the only way to escape the brutal world they were born into. Well, truth be told, it was the only way.
So on this day, just like any other time the military arrived, outskirt children flooded the vicinity to try their luck. The success rate was brutally low—usually only five to ten out of a hundred made the cut.
The test was carried out by collecting the individual's blood, testing it for impurities and compatibility with military standards. Of course, everyone living outside the Wall had impurities in their blood because of the heavily polluted air, so the test was actually based on latent talent. These talents were divided into four tiers: Blue, Green, Yellow, and Orange.
Blue was the highest, while Orange was the lowest.
These lucky individuals would be taken inside the Great Wall—the land of dreams for everyone on the outside. There was a promise attached to the recruitment that made it even more enticing: the chosen children could bring their family inside the Wall. Even if a recruit failed the grueling physical military training later on, they were still cleared via the blood test to live and work inside the Wall among the A-class citizens.
But there was a catch. One could only select one parent to bring along.
Walking through the busy street toward the testing center was a sixteen-year-old male figure. His naturally white hair was covered in layers of dirt accumulated over time, matching his torn trousers and ragged shirt. He clutched his newly acquired items tightly in both hands. His skin clung so tightly to his face that the sharp line of his jawbone could easily be traced by hand.
As Graves neared the testing center, he felt no excitement. He had been taking this test since he was eleven years old. Every single time, he hadn't even managed to trigger the lowest Orange tier. He had been deeply frustrated at first, but over the years, he had grown used to the failure. He only participated now because his mother always pestered him to try his luck.
"Anything can happen," she would always say with a gentle smile.
Inside the testing center, a chaotic sea of figures moved about—military personnel, doctors, and desperate outskirt children. Graves found an empty space against a wall, leaned back, and waited for his turn.
Three hours later, Graves was finally sitting on a cold metal chair, his right arm stretched out toward a nurse.
Sitting close to him, the nurse was instantly welcomed by the foul stench clinging to his clothes. She quickly yanked up her face mask, her expression clearly screaming, 'You stink.'
Graves didn't care.
The young nurse, sporting brown hair and light skin, pulled out a gun-like injector with a heavy needle at the tip. Without saying a word, she drove it into his arm with practiced, mechanical motion. Graves watched her quietly, his mind already drifting back to planning his next hunt with the small gang.
The nurse glanced at the small screen on the back of the injector. Graves followed her gaze. While he couldn't see the screen directly, the shifting colorful reflections dancing on her pupils confirmed the progression.
Graves watched the faint glow transition from Blue, to Green, to Yellow, and then to Orange. It seemed to linger on Orange for a few agonizing seconds, causing Graves to involuntarily hold his breath in sudden, desperate anticipation.
Then, finally, it flicked from Orange to Black.
Black. Signifying absolutely no trace of talent, and an incredibly high density of environmental impurities.
Graves let out a quiet sigh, immediately getting up from the chair to make his way toward the exit.
"You didn't make the cut, kiddo. Go home," the nurse said flatly.
Graves paused, turning his head slightly. "I know. That's why I'm already at the door," he responded, before walking out into the smog.
The nurse chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Skinny brat, trying to act tough... Next!" she called out.