The quiet on the training field felt heavier than the shockwave Caine had just unleashed.
Proctor Vance, a grizzled veteran with a jagged scar running from his jaw to his collarbone, stood motionless behind his clipboard. The monolith's digital readout flickered once, emitted a faint buzz of dying electronics, and went dark.
"What did you do, Level 10?" Marcus demanded, his voice cracking slightly. He took a step forward, his bronze broadsword gripped tightly in his right hand. "Is that some kind of cheap explosive device? You cheated!"
Caine turned his head slowly. He kept his right hand unclenched, letting the residual heat dissipate into his sleeve. His heart was still hammering, but not from fear—from the sheer thrill of feeling his power actually work without draining his life force.
"If I had an explosive, Marcus, the proctor's scanners would have flagged it before I stepped onto the pad," Caine said, keeping his voice steady.
"Silence," Vance barked, stepping between them. The proctor didn't look at Marcus. His sharp, gray eyes were locked entirely on Caine's arm. "Student Caine. Step back to the waiting line."
"Proctor, he broke school property!" Marcus protested, his face turning red. "He shouldn't get a score for destroying the test equipment!"
Vance raised a single finger, shutting Marcus up instantly. "The impact plate is rated for up to CHPower 60—Low Advanced level. A physical strike cannot break the internal dampeners unless the impact velocity exceeds three thousand meters per second, or the energy density bypasses the external kinetic layer entirely."
Vance walked up to the fractured monolith, touching the spider-webbing cracks on the steel face. His glove came away dusted with a fine, glass-like powder—crystalline residue.
"This wasn't an explosion," Vance muttered, mostly to himself. He turned back to Caine, his expression unreadable. "Your official record states your CHPower is 10. Intermediate Level 1 base. Is that correct?"
"Yes, sir," Caine lied smoothly. "My materialization is unstable. I can't maintain a full weapon form yet."
Vance stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. He didn't issue a score. Instead, he tapped his wrist communicator.
"Head Office. This is Vance. Cancel the rest of Section 4's physical evaluations. Send a heavy transport team to Field B, and tell Director Thorne we have an Anomaly in the Beginner bracket."
The surrounding students began whispering furiously. An 'Anomaly' tag wasn't a reward—it meant the Academy considered a student a potential hazard or a research subject.
Caine caught Marcus's glare across the field, but he didn't care about Marcus anymore. He looked down at his right palm. The skin was completely unmarked, but deep beneath the surface, that second pulse—that strange, ancient resonance—was slowly waking up.
He had gotten their attention. Now he just had to survive what came next.