Part 3: Final Evaluation (Age 16)
Timeskip: Three years later. Project Helios approaches Phase 2. Only four subjects remain viable. Primary Asset selection imminent
The final evaluation wasn't announced as a test. It was labeled "Resource Optimization Protocol." We were summoned to Hall B at 06:00 sharp. No breakfast. No briefing.
Hall B was the largest space in the facility: a 50-meter square arena with adjustable terrain panels, holographic barriers, and overhead observation decks. Today, it was configured as a multi-stage gauntlet—physical, intellectual, psychological—all in one seamless sequence.
Dr. Ayanami stood on the platform above, flanked by the senior board. Her voice echoed through the speakers.
"Subjects R-03, R-07, R-12, R-19. This protocol determines the Primary Asset for inter-world transfer. Only one will proceed. The others will be reallocated as support data. Rules: No lethal force. Yield or incapacitation ends participation. Begin on my mark."
Yuna shifted beside me. Her hands were steady, but her breathing was off by 0.2 seconds per cycle. Kai stood rigid, eyes scanning the arena layout. Mira met my gaze for a split second—neutral, assessing.
We had trained together for nine years. Shared meals. Endured isolations. Exchanged strategies in whispered hallway conversations. Yuna had once bandaged my hand after a simulation cut. Kai had taught me a breathing technique to push through fatigue. Mira had stayed silent during my rare moments of doubt, her presence a quiet anchor.
None of that mattered now.
"Mark."
Stage 1: Physical Gauntlet. The floor segmented into rising platforms, laser grids, and pressure traps. Objective: Reach the central node first.
Kai bolted left, using his speed to vault the first barrier. Mira went right, calculating the trap patterns. Yuna hesitated—0.8 seconds too long—then followed me straight ahead.
I mapped the grid in four seconds: 17 pressure points, 9 laser cycles, optimal path with 82% success rate.
Yuna matched my pace. "Ryuji… we can team up. Split the node."
I didn't respond. At the first laser array, I timed my slide—perfect clearance. Yuna mirrored me but clipped the edge. A mild shock sent her stumbling.
She recovered, but I was already three meters ahead.
Kai reached the midpoint first, but a hidden panel shifted under him. He adapted, rolling to avoid the drop.
Mira closed in from the side, her path intersecting mine.
I adjusted trajectory: intersect hers at the choke point.
She saw it coming. "Don't."
I didn't slow. We collided at the narrow pass—her shoulder check versus my precise elbow pivot. She lost balance, teetered on the edge of a trap panel.
"Ryuji—" Her voice cut off as the floor gave way. She dropped into the foam pit below.
Incapacitated.
One down.
Yuna called from behind, voice strained. "Mira? What did you do?"
I reached the node. Stage 1 complete.
Kai arrived 1.2 seconds later, breathing even. "Efficient."
Stage 2: Intellectual Duel. Holographic screens activated around the node. Rapid-fire queries: logic puzzles, ethical dilemmas, strategic simulations.
We alternated answers via voice input. First to three errors yields.
Kai started strong. "Puzzle 47: Optimal prisoner escape route is northwest corridor, accounting for guard rotation variance of 15%."
Correct.
My turn. "Dilemma 19: Sacrifice the informant to preserve asset integrity. Probability of mission success increases by 42%."
Correct.
Yuna joined from the edge, having cleared the gauntlet last. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled slightly. "Simulation 88: Redirect resources to Sector 4. Casualty projection: 28 lives, but objective secured."
Correct.
We cycled through twenty rounds. Yuna erred first on a quantum probability calc—missed a decimal.
One error.
Kai slipped on an ethical chain: prioritized loyalty over efficiency.
One error.
I stayed flawless.
Yuna's second error came on a memory recall: transposed two digits in a 50-variable equation.
Two errors.
She looked at me, eyes wide. "Ryuji… help me. Just once."
The rules prohibited collaboration.
I answered my next query without pause.
Kai's second error: overcompensated in a risk assessment.
Yuna's third: a simple logic trap she walked into because her focus was fracturing.
"Yield confirmed: R-07."
She backed away from the screen, shoulders slumping. The holographic barrier enclosed her—out.
"Ryuji…" she said, voice breaking just a fraction. "After everything… you didn't even blink."
I met her eyes. No response necessary.
Kai turned to me. "Just us now.."...
Stage 3: Psychological Confrontation. The arena dimmed. Holograms projected personal data—files, memories, evaluations.
Objective: Force the opponent to concede vulnerability.
Kai went first. "Your heterochromia isn't a defect—it's engineered. They made you asymmetric to test adaptability. You're not special; you're a variable."
I nodded. "Irrelevant to performance."
My counter: "Your strategic scores peaked at age 12. Plateau since then. You know you're replaceable."
He didn't flinch. "Data point acknowledged."
We traded barbs: exposed weaknesses, dredged up failures.
Kai: "You have no alliances. Even Yuna and Mira see you as a tool. Isolation metric: 98%."
Me: "Your endurance tests show micro-tremors under prolonged stress. Breaking point: 62 hours. Mine: 89."
He paused—0.4 seconds. A crack.
Kai: "We've been through the same hell. Same rooms. Same nights counting vents to stay sane. Doesn't that mean anything?"
I answered without inflection. "It means shared data. Nothing more."
He stared. Something shifted in his eyes—not anger, but resignation.
"I yield."
The barrier enclosed him.
Dr. Ayanami's voice: "Protocol complete. Primary Asset: R-03. Subjects R-07, R-12, R-19: report for reallocation processing."
Yuna didn't move. Tears tracked down her face, silent. Kai gave me one last look—blank, accepting. Mira, from the edge where she'd watched, just nodded once.
They were escorted out. No goodbyes. No protests.
Dr. Ayanami descended the platform.
"Impressive. No hesitation. No emotional leakage."
I stood straight. "As required."
She handed me the transfer schedule. "Portal activation in 24 hours. Prepare."
I nodded.
As she walked away, the second voice in my head spoke, quiet and matter-of-fact.
They were the closest thing you had to family. And you crushed them without a second thought.
I walked back to my cell.
No response necessary.
I Hope You Are Enjoying This ❤️-Terobero
Next : Chapter 1 Part 4 ( Before Last ) !.