Next day, 0900 hours...
Carl and Jonathan walked side by side through the halls of Nexlark Regional Academy, their footsteps echoing against the polished floors. Cold stares met them from every direction—hostile, curious, judgmental.
Jonathan glanced around. "The competition must be cutthroat. Everyone's doing their best to outcompete each other…"
Carl shook his head. "It's more than that. There've been candidates found beaten up outside the academy. These gangs—some of them mean business."
Jonathan frowned. "Seriously? That bad?"
"Yeah. Try to keep your head down. The Emris family's well known in this country. Lisa's basically untouchable. No one dares mess with her."
Jonathan's expression darkened. "I don't get it. If people with real potential are being bullied, how is this nation supposed to produce heroes of any caliber?"
Carl said nothing.
Jonathan clenched his fist. "Ganging up on the weak isn't right. There has to be something we can do. No—I have to do something."
Carl gave him a concerned glance. "You shouldn't be walking with me. People already think I'm a magnet for bullies. You'll only make yourself a target."
Jonathan shrugged. "Being a hero has always been my dream. If I can't stand up for someone below me—if I treat those who can't fight back like dirt—then do I even deserve to call myself a hero?"
Carl blinked, taken aback by his conviction.
Eventually, they reached the next assessment area. This one focused on balance and focus—less flashy, but crucial for refining a candidate's control and discipline.
Jonathan was in the first batch. Carl, near the end.
"Do your best," Jonathan said with a grin. "Don't let those people drag you down."
Carl smiled weakly. "Right. You too."
As Jonathan stepped into the waiting area, one of the assessors approached.
"You there—Jonathan Kirk?"
"That's me," Jonathan replied, slightly puzzled.
"You've already passed this portion according to our records. There's no need for you to participate."
Jonathan shook his head. "That's not good enough. I want to test my abilities, fair and square. Skipping ahead doesn't feel right—or fun."
The assessor raised an eyebrow. "Very well. But understand—the results of this test won't affect your predetermined evaluation. This is strictly extracurricular."
"That's fine by me."
The man, dressed in a sharp black suit and tie, nodded and led him to the assessment zone.
"This way."
Jonathan followed. As he approached the testing platform, he pulled back his hoodie and took a deep breath. He stood tall, exhaling slowly, grounding himself.
This time, he wasn't going to hold back.
The voice over the speakers echoed across the chamber. "Follow my instructions. This part of the assessment will test your focus."
Jonathan cracked his knuckles. "Never been more ready."
A pause.
Then came the first command.
"Control. Your first task is to regulate your energy signature. This is crucial for gauging your ability to blend into your surroundings. The outcome of this test may determine your future role as a hero."
Jonathan closed his eyes, tuning out the ambient noise. He took a deep breath and extended his senses, feeling the subtle flow of energy in the air. It was like tuning into a rhythm only a few could hear.
"You may begin."
Slowly, Jonathan aligned his own energy with the fluctuating signature around him. It pulsed in slow, steady waves—delicate, yet distinct. He adjusted his internal rhythm to match it precisely.
The assessment sensors beeped.
Energy signature matched. Candidate passed.
He exhaled quietly, releasing the tension in his body. A slight dizziness washed over him—a side effect of manipulating his energy signature—but he remained composed.
From the shadows, a senior assessor stepped forward and whispered something to the observing staff. After a brief nod, the senior quietly exited.
Jonathan blinked, steadying himself.
Then, the speakers buzzed again.
"The next task is identical to the first—but this time, we'll push you to your absolute limit. Begin when ready."
Jonathan looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back to the platform. He noticed a sharp spike in the ambient energy—it now fluctuated erratically, unpredictable and violent.
Matching that would be anything but easy.
But he didn't hesitate. He shut his eyes once more and let everything else fade away.
The air around him shimmered with raw fluctuations.
His heartbeat slowed as he fought to synchronize with the chaos. His energy surged and dipped, responding to each spike, each sudden drop.
The sensors flickered wildly. Jonathan's energy signature was adapting—but it came at a cost. Sweat formed on his brow, and his knees trembled slightly. His vision pulsed red behind closed eyes as the strain pushed his limits.
But still, he held on.
Finally—Match confirmed.
The speakers chimed. "That's good enough."
Jonathan let go, gasping for breath. His body ached, and his head spun, but he stood tall.
He had done it.
The assessors exchanged glances behind their monitors. This candidate—who supposedly didn't need to be tested—had just completed one of the most difficult focus assessments without prior notice.