As he waited in line, time seemed to slow. Seconds dragged like minutes. Every muscle in Samael's body tensed, as if his very being anticipated the test ahead.
— Jesus… this isn't good for the heart, — he thought, a chill running down his spine.
"Hey, it's your turn," called Professor Rock, and Samael, gripped by anxiety, nearly lost touch with reality.
— O-okay… — he replied in his usual quiet tone.
He stepped forward and stopped in front of the cold metal machine. Its dark display loomed like a judging eye, ready to reveal just how weak he had become… or how dangerous he could be.
Meanwhile, Leon, one of the class's strongest Legacies, received praise from a sycophant:
— You're amazing, Leon!
Leon rolled his eyes. Coming from a powerful family and being the strongest among the Legacies, he was used to respect, not flattery. Bootlickers were annoying—especially the "normals." Legacies valued their pride.
He had just punched the machine, scoring a 17, and now waited again, bored out of his mind.
Then something caught his attention: a boy with a symmetrical face and Legacy-like presence approached the machine, hunched slightly.
Leon recognized him, though they weren't close. In childhood, the boy had received Legacy-level education, but in adolescence, his training lagged behind even ordinary students.
What truly surprised Leon, however, was the sudden change in Samael's presence. Initially timid and withdrawn, he now radiated something… desperate. His breathing was fast, unusual, as he faced the machine. The room's atmosphere shifted. A few students instinctively stepped back, sensing something off.
— Hey… is he okay? — whispered a girl, visibly unsettled.
— They should probably stop the test. He's clearly not normal, — commented a boy, a hint of superiority in his voice.
Silence fell over the room. Even Leon, accustomed to dealing with powerful Legacies, felt a chill run down his spine.
Then came another noticeable change: Samael bent forward, knees tense, adopting a posture that broke every expectation of elegant Legacy style. It was more animal than human — and everyone found it disconcerting.
— Ehh… what a weird stance, — commented a student, trying to mask the unease Samael's presence exuded.
A sharp sound echoed through the room as Samael struck the machine from that strange position. The impact was raw, almost cruel to the ears.
— Barbaric, — muttered some shallow students, unable to process it.
The room froze as the display revealed the number: 14. Not the highest in class, but still impressive — and the fact that it had been achieved with that "weird" stance made the scene all the more uncomfortable.
Leon, bored of a predictable routine that revolved around training and avoiding embarrassment for his family, started to take interest.
— Hey… — Leon whispered to another student watching Samael.— He got the same score as you… and look at how he fights.
— He fights so disgustingly, — Leon continued, laughing as the other student blushed in shame.
Leon's smile widened, satisfied. Finally, this was interesting.
Samael returned to his senses after the strike, his expression now calm, almost indifferent, as if nothing around him could disturb him.
— Where did I learn this? — he asked himself, frowning in curiosity.— And why do I feel so comfortable fighting this way? I'm sure that, in my memories, I fought in a more refined style…
He wasn't unconscious; on the contrary, his mind was sharp, and all worries and pain simply faded away.
— I feel… so free. So barbaric.
The strange style he had just used was neither learned nor conscious. It was instinctive, a muscle memory etched into bone and flesh. Fascinating. Wild. And above all, fun — awakening a nearly childish curiosity.
Samael was so absorbed in the sensation that he didn't even notice the tension around him, nor the small boy approaching with an unfriendly expression.
That moment — the instant body and instinct aligned — seemed to suspend the world. He was pure motion, pure strength — a version of himself he hadn't even known existed.
— Hey, you idiot, — called the Legacy who had scored the same as Samael.
— Huh? — Samael replied, still intoxicated with adrenaline. His mind was clear, but his body felt omnipotent. His voice, usually low and controlled, now carried across the room — something previously impossible.
As he turned toward the other, his face was a display of pure intensity: the strange smile, the animalistic stance, and the challenging aura radiated something uncomfortable, almost primal.
No student dared to interrupt. Everyone was hypnotized, curious to see how Samael would behave in combat. The tension was palpable, and even the proudest Legacies kept a safe distance.
The impatient boy, in turn, was the perfect test — an opponent who wouldn't back down easily, forcing Samael to rely not just on strength, but pure instinct.
Samael drew a deep breath, his heart racing. Every fiber of his body screamed for motion, for action. He was no longer bound by expectations of elegance or refined technique — it was all instinct. Brutal. Wild. Pure.
— Let's see what you're capable of, — murmured the Legacy, assuming a combat stance, challenging.
Samael smiled in return, a smile that wasn't just confidence but the embodiment of something he barely understood himself. Every muscle ready, every thought empty except for the desire to test his limits.
Meanwhile, Leon couldn't hide a smile that radiated almost childish joy — like a kid who had just gotten their favorite toy and was ready to play with it until it broke.
No one was paying attention to him. It was the only genuine smile Leon had shown since arriving at the academy.
But suddenly, the smile froze. Not because anything went wrong, but for another reason: he had just found an incredibly interesting "toy"… and was forced to watch someone else play with it.
A mixture of frustration and fascination consumed Leon. He felt like that impatient child, desperate to play with their favorite toy, now stuck watching. And frankly, he didn't like it one bit.