The gymnasium fell silent after the B-ranked candidate concluded her demonstration. Her movements were fluid and precise—an embodiment of the Water Style discipline, known for its graceful counters. Without a word, she bowed and returned to her line.
Then came Lisa's turn.
She stepped forward with unwavering confidence, chin held high. After a formal bow, she dropped into a deep horse stance. The assessors exchanged knowing glances—recognizing the hallmark posture of Earth Style martial arts, a discipline valued for its defensive strength and unyielding form.
Lisa smirked.
Her motions began slow and deliberate, flowing through a kata unfamiliar to most candidates in the room. Then, almost imperceptibly, she started weaving Water into her form. Her stance became more fluid; her strikes took on an unpredictable edge.
The elemental gauge beside her flickered—then spiked.
Gasps rippled through the gymnasium, though no one dared speak. The readings were beyond anything expected from an A-rank. Her mastery of both Earth and Water wasn't just rare—it was elite.
For her final move, she channeled energy into her fists. They glowed with a luminous, watery blue as she executed an Iron Fist technique infused with Water. She inhaled deeply, allowing the energy to fade, then returned to her original stance.
Silence remained enforced. All candidates bowed their heads in respect. All but Jonathan, who stood unsure of how to respond.
Lisa approached him, her expression sharp.
"I hope you won't disappoint me," she said coolly before returning to her line.
One by one, the remaining candidates showcased their elemental disciplines. Jonathan watched them closely, noting both their strengths and weaknesses.
Then his name was called.
Jonathan knew the Fire Style inside and out. It emphasized explosive, precise strikes over ritualized kata. He'd also studied other forms—but Wind, a supportive and enhancing discipline, was the only one he had fully mastered.
Now wasn't the time to show it all.
He had no interest in drawing attention.
"Jonathan Kirk, you're next!" an assessor announced.
"Coming," he replied calmly, stepping into the center.
He bowed and took an unusual stance—one leg lunged forward, the other braced behind, elbows tucked, fists clenched.
From a distance, Lisa felt a breeze brush her cheek. She blinked. Just wind from outside, she thought.
Jonathan opened his eyes and moved.
Slow. Fluid. Calculated. His steps were measured, and his flow deceptively calm. He had chosen the second kata of the Fire Style—one of the simpler ones—and held back deliberately.
Lisa scoffed under her breath. "Second kata? Please. Try not to mess it up."
Then Jonathan leapt.
His strike landed cleanly, the form flawless. Even restrained, his execution impressed those familiar with the kata. A few assessors exchanged intrigued glances.
Suddenly, he ended with an improvised flourish—a tornado twister kick, infused subtly with Wind. The attack was fierce yet elegant.
Some candidates raised their hands, ready to applaud, but quickly dropped them in the assessors' stern presence.
Jonathan bowed and returned to his place in line.
As expected, he didn't outscore Lisa. His performance was logged at a lower A-rank.
Lisa smiled, thinking he'd fallen short.
After the final candidate's turn, the assessors dismissed the group.
Jonathan's stomach growled. He made a beeline for the cafeteria, grabbed a tray of his favorite bread, side dishes, and milk, then scanned for an empty seat.
The room was packed—every table filled.
"You can sit here!" a timid male voice called.
Jonathan turned. It was one of the weaker Class C candidates—a chubby boy with glasses who gestured to the open spot beside him.
Jonathan approached and smiled. "Thanks."
"No, it's fine! I'm honored to share a table with you, Mr...?"
"Jonathan Kirk."
"Ah—Jonathan!" the boy smiled back, then offered his hand. "I'm Carl Vinson. Like you, I want to be a hero one day… or serve in the Legion, if fate allows."
"No need to sound so down," Jonathan said warmly.
"I guess... but unlike you, I don't have much potential." Carl sighed. "We all saw you holding back. You could've crushed that Lisa-bully."
Jonathan chuckled. "I'm nothing special, really."
"If you say so…" Carl muttered, then focused on his meal.
Jonathan grinned. "Let's make it together, Carl. Nice meeting you."
Before Carl could respond, a new voice cut through the noise.
"Oiiiii…"
Carl flinched. "Gina…?"
Jonathan looked up to see a goth girl in tight slacks and heavy makeup standing behind Carl.
"You're sitting in my spot," she said coldly. "Move—both of you."
"But we're still eating…" Carl said nervously.
"You looking for a beating, huh?" The cafeteria went dead silent.
Jonathan stood his ground. "Sorry. You'll have to go through me."
Gina smirked. "Brave, aren't we?" Her eyes flicked to a nearby table. "You're lucky there's another seat."
She leaned closer to Carl. "But don't think your 'cheater' friend can protect you forever. You'll feel my wrath. Next time."
With a final glare, she turned and walked off.
"What's her deal?" Jonathan asked.
"Bullies," Carl muttered. "No one ever really stops them."