The gates of the Vanguard Academy were massive.
They were made of heavy iron and sharpened at the top, with the academy logo attached in polished steel. The logo was an angry wolf leaping with its claws out.
The courtyard inside was already crowded. Dozens of people were there to take the test, and most of them looked a bit older than him.
Some were in good training gear. A few were doing warm-up stretches.
Holden just minded his business and kept walking.
Then he heard the voice.
"Well, isn't this pathetic."
Holden didn't even turn around. He'd spent three years running errands for the Ashwell estate; he knew that drawling, arrogant voice well enough by now.
Cormac Ashwell was lounging against a gate pillar, wearing a brand-new training gear. The Ashwell crest was stitched on his chest in actual gold thread. He was staring at Holden's patched jacket with open disgust.
"I almost didn't recognize you out of those ratty servant clothes," Cormac said, clicking his tongue. "I thought you were one of the janitors they brought in to scrub the latrines." A few of the nearby rich kids snickered.
"Cormac," Holden said. His voice was completely flat. Cormac pushed off the pillar, stepping closer until he was looming over Holden. "Is that the jacket our estate manager threw in the trash last winter? I thought it looked familiar. Smells like it, too."
Holden's jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes front. "Are you trying to scare me, or are you just bored?"
"I'm just being realistic," Cormac smirked. "You're going to get mauled in there, Voss. Everyone here knows it. You don't belong at the Vanguard Academy. You belong in the meat grinder."
Holden finally looked at him. Then he looked right through him. "Alright," Holden muttered, turning away. "Thanks for the chat."
Then he walked away.
He moved to a spot near the crowd and stood there, breathing slowly, until he was calm.
Maeve needs you to pass this exam. That was the only thought he had.
The examiner was a short woman with a shaved head. As soon as she walked up onto the platform, the whole crowd went silent. No introduction. She unrolled a sheet of paper, looked at it quickly, and put it away.
""Listen up. I'm only saying this once." The courtyard went dead silent.
"The Vanguard entrance exam is simple. You go into the ring alone. You face a Rank 1 Gore-Boar. You don't have to kill it. You just have to stay alive for ten minutes." Her eyes swept over the crowd, cold and unimpressed. "Step out of the ring, you fail. Get knocked out, you fail. Don't show up when your name is called, you fail, and you'll be drafted straight to the Expendable Corps by sundown. Sit down, shut up, and wait for your name."
She folded her hands behind her back.
"You will be called in the order listed. Find a place to wait."
That was it. She stepped off the platform and walked away to speak to one of the ring officials.
The waiting area was a long stone bench under a roof at the side of the main yard. About forty people were sitting close together on the bench or standing in little groups nearby.
Holden sat down, relaxed his shoulders, and closed his eyes.
He wasn't actually calm. But he knew that being scared wouldn't help. He thought about the first lesson every kid in Crestfall learned before they even learned how to fight.
Basic Breathing. Four counts in through the nose, hold for four seconds, then breathe out through the mouth for four seconds. Repeat until your nerves finally calm down.
Holden started doing it, slow and quiet, keeping his face neutral so he didn't look like he was meditating dramatically in a crowd of panicking teenagers.
In. Two. Three. Four.
The blue screen flashed in his vision.
[Skill Detected: Basic Respiratory Control]
[10x Multiplier Activated]
Hold. Two. Three. Four.
And then he felt something change inside him.
His lungs felt like they were opening up more than usual. The energy in his body became easy to control. It was happening because the system was making his breathing much more powerful.
Ten minutes of breathing had turned into a hundred minutes of hard work. This was the same training that academy students spent a long time learning. It helped him breathe deeper and made his body more efficient. Now he could push himself harder for much longer before his body started to give up.
He was getting all of that sitting on a bench.
The minutes passed. The crowd got smaller as names were called. Some came back looking shaky but upright. One came back being carried by a ring official, conscious but done. Cormac went in and came out eleven minutes later with a scratch on his arm.
Holden kept breathing.
In. Two. Three. Four.
He'd lost count of his breathing cycles. His body didn't feel the same anymore. Usually, he would get tired and stop making progress, but that limit was gone. His body was capable of so much more now. He felt a deep sense of power and energy.
"Holden Voss," the examiner called.
He opened his eyes and stood up.
[Physical Foundation Threshold Reached]
[Optimal Core Conditions Met]
And then he felt a change.
Deep inside him, he heard a tiny sound.
Snap.
The blue screen appeared in his vision instantly, its words and numbers changing rapidly.
[Fighter Rank Updated.]
[Rank 1, 1-Star.]
He stood there for one second, processing what just happened.
Then he exhaled and started walking toward the door that led to the ring.