The device pulsed again beneath James's hand.
This time, it didn't stop.
A low hum filled the room, deeper than before, pressing faintly against his ears. James stiffened, his fingers tightening slightly against the cold metal surface. The warmth in his chest flared in response—no longer a quiet ember, but something sharper.
Restless.
"Steady," the woman said, her voice calm but firmer now. "Don't pull away."
"I'm not—" James started, but stopped.
Because something was happening.
The faint thread he'd felt earlier returned, but stronger this time. It wasn't just a flicker anymore. It moved—quick, jagged, like a crack of lightning darting through a dark sky. It didn't stay still long enough to grasp, slipping away the moment he tried to focus on it.
The hum deepened.
The air shifted.
One of the evaluators frowned slightly. "Output's climbing."
"That's normal," the man near the wall said, though his tone had lost some of its earlier ease. "First awakenings spike."
James barely heard them.
The feeling in his chest spread, thin strands branching outward through his arms, down his spine. It didn't hurt—but it wasn't comfortable either. It felt… wrong. Like something too large trying to fit into a space that wasn't meant for it.
His breath hitched.
"Hey," the woman said, sharper now. "Focus. Don't chase it."
Too late.
For a split second—
Something broke through.
A flash.
Not outside.
Inside.
Blinding.
James gasped, his hand jerking slightly against the device as a surge of energy tore through him. It wasn't warmth anymore. It was raw, violent, alive—wild in a way that made his chest feel like it might split open.
The device reacted instantly.
The soft glow along its surface flickered—once, twice—then spiked into a harsh, uneven light.
"—That's not—" one of the evaluators started.
A sharp crack cut through the room.
It wasn't loud. But it was wrong.
Like something snapping into place.
The surge vanished.
Just like that.
Gone.
James blinked, his breath uneven, his body suddenly feeling… heavy. The energy that had filled him a moment ago collapsed inward, compressed into something small and contained. The sharpness dulled, leaving behind only a faint, lingering buzz beneath his skin.
The device stabilized.
The light smoothed out into a steady glow, calm and controlled, as if nothing had happened.
Silence followed.
The three evaluators exchanged a brief look.
Not alarmed.
But not entirely comfortable either.
"…Continue," the woman said after a moment, her tone neutral again.
The man by the wall exhaled quietly. "Yeah. Looks like it settled."
James swallowed, his throat dry. "What was that?"
No one answered immediately.
"Residual spike," the third evaluator said finally, adjusting something on the device. "It happens sometimes."
It didn't sound convincing.
But James didn't push.
"Alright," the woman said, stepping slightly closer. "Your talent has stabilized. We'll finalize classification now."
James nodded slowly, though his attention was still fixed inward.
The energy was still there.
But different.
Smaller.
Tighter.
Like something had been… forced into place.
"Category first," the third evaluator muttered, watching the readings. "Response pattern is—"
The device flickered.
Just for a second.
"…Support?" he said, though it sounded more like a question than a conclusion.
The man frowned slightly. "You sure?"
"It's the closest match."
Another pause.
Then the woman gave a short nod. "Log it."
James let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Support.
It wasn't the worst outcome. Not great—but not nothing either.
"Now the grade," the third evaluator continued.
The device pulsed again, softer this time. Numbers flickered across its surface, too fast for James to follow. For a brief moment, the light stuttered—
Then steadied.
"C-rank," the evaluator said.
There it was.
Final.
Ordinary.
James leaned back slightly, absorbing it.
C-rank support.
Not academy material. Probably not. But not useless either. He could work with that.
"Your talent," the woman said, turning the device slightly so he could see, "is being registered as Static Field."
The words settled in his mind.
"Static… Field?" he repeated.
"A passive-type support ability," she explained. "You generate a low-level electrical field around your body. It can enhance muscle response slightly and produce minor discharge on contact."
The man added, "Good for close-range situations. Not flashy, but practical."
James flexed his fingers slowly.
A faint tingling answered.
Subtle.
But real.
"Try focusing on it," the woman said.
He did.
The buzz beneath his skin sharpened slightly, gathering around his hand. For a brief second, a tiny spark snapped between his fingers—barely visible, gone almost instantly.
James stared at it.
Then let out a quiet breath.
It wasn't much.
But it was his.
"Control will come with practice," the third evaluator said. "Right now, it's unstable. Don't overuse it—you'll tire quickly."
James nodded.
That made sense. He already felt a slight drain, like he'd run further than he actually had.
The woman stepped back. "You'll receive official documentation at the front desk. From here, your path depends on what you choose—training, guild application, or otherwise."
James slid his hand off the device.
The moment he did, the hum in the room faded.
Just like that, it was over.
"Next," the man called casually, already turning toward the door.
James stood, a little slower than before.
C-rank support.
Static Field.
He repeated it in his head as he stepped out into the corridor.
It should've felt disappointing.
But it didn't.
Because beneath the faint buzz still lingering in his veins…
There was something else.
Quiet.
Buried deep.
Waiting.
James paused for a moment, glancing down at his hand.
For just a second—
He thought he saw it again.
Not the weak spark from before.
Something sharper.
Brighter.
Gone before he could be sure.
He frowned slightly, then shook his head.
"Probably nothing," he muttered under his breath.
And continued down the corridor.