The sword was ordinary.
That was the first thing I liked about it.
No ice crawled across the blade. No strange instinct pressed against the back of my thoughts, and there wasn't enough power inside it to freeze a glass of water. It was just steel, balanced carefully between my hands.
After everything that had happened lately, ordinary felt nice.
"Technical assessment begins in ten seconds," Dr. Vey announced.
Targets rose throughout the arena while the observation gallery settled into silence. Most were simple training constructs positioned at different heights and angles, although several moved along tracks built into the floor.
I adjusted my grip.
The longsword was heavier toward the point than I preferred, which meant the return after a committed cut would be slightly slower. The grip was long enough to compensate with leverage, though, and the crossguard allowed several defensive options that wouldn't work with the ice sword.
I hadn't consciously figured any of that out.
I just knew.
"Begin."
The first target moved.
I stepped forward.
My opening cut passed diagonally through the marked section across its chest. Before the blade finished traveling, I changed my grip and redirected the return into the second target.
Third.
Fourth.
I stepped around the fifth instead of attacking immediately, let its movement carry it past me, then struck the marked section on its back.
The timer continued.
More targets rose.
My shoulder hurt when I accelerated too quickly, so I adjusted. Instead of forcing speed my body couldn't produce, I shortened the movements and relied on timing.
A target swung a padded weapon toward my head.
I caught it against the crossguard, rotated the blade and sent the weapon aside before touching the point against its throat.
The construct froze.
I moved on.
When the final target dropped, I lowered the sword.
The arena remained quiet.
"Did I pass?"
Dr. Vey looked at her tablet.
Several researchers behind her were speaking to each other.
Finally, she answered.
"Yes."
"Great."
"That was the introductory test."
"Oh."
A second platform rose.
Another sword waited on it.
Curved.
Single-edged.
Different balance.
Different grip.
I returned the longsword and picked up the saber.
Dr. Vey spoke again.
"Prior experience?"
"No."
The researchers looked at one another.
"Begin."
The first swing told me almost everything.
This blade wanted movement.
The longsword had rewarded structure and leverage. This one preferred flowing cuts, momentum and constant transitions. Trying to use it exactly like the previous weapon would've wasted what made it useful.
So I didn't.
My stance changed.
The targets activated.
I moved.
By the fourth weapon, the gallery had stopped applauding.
By the seventh, nobody was talking.
By the ninth, Dr. Vey had started asking the same question every time.
"Prior experience?"
"No."
A rapier came next.
I picked it up and immediately shifted my feet.
"Prior experience?"
"No."
"Have you studied fencing?"
"No."
"Seen professional fencing?"
"Probably."
"Probably?"
"There are televisions."
Someone in the gallery laughed.
Dr. Vey did not.
"Begin."
The rapier was lighter than most of the previous weapons, but that didn't mean weaker. Its balance encouraged precision, distance control and fast changes in line.
The first construct attacked.
I didn't block.
I moved just far enough that its weapon missed, then extended my arm.
The point stopped against its throat.
The second came from my left.
Parry.
Turn.
Thrust.
The third tried closing distance.
Bad idea.
I kept it exactly where I wanted it.
Something about the weapon made spacing feel almost mathematical. Every step changed the possible angles, every extension created another threat, and every mistake by the opponent shortened the distance between the point and something important.
The final target froze.
I lowered the rapier.
Nobody said anything.
"Next?"
Dr. Vey looked toward the researchers.
One of them shook his head.
Another was staring at a screen.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Dr. Vey answered carefully.
"The system is attempting to assign your technical score."
"And?"
"It has not reached a stable result."
"Is that bad?"
"We don't know yet."
That seemed to be happening a lot around me.
A new weapon rose.
I frowned.
This one was strange.
Shorter blade. Heavy spine. Unfamiliar guard.
I didn't recognize its exact origin.
For the first time, I hesitated.
Dr. Vey noticed.
"Do you recognize this weapon?"
"No."
"Good."
I looked at her.
"Good?"
"It was selected because it does not appear in any publicly available modern training curriculum. We wanted to remove the possibility that you've studied the previous weapons through recordings."
Fair.
I picked it up.
Nothing happened for a second.
Then I adjusted my hand.
Too high.
Lower.
Better.
The weight sat differently than I expected. It wasn't designed for the same sweeping movements as the saber, and the shortened reach meant distance had to be managed more aggressively.
I tested a small cut.
Then another.
A movement occurred to me.
I tried it slowly.
The blade settled naturally into the next position.
There.
I understood.
Not everything.
Enough.
"Ready?" Dr. Vey asked.
"Think so."
The test began.
I made mistakes.
Three, specifically.
My first defensive angle was inefficient. My second attack overextended because I misjudged the weapon's preferred range. The third mistake nearly got me hit.
After that, I stopped making them.
The weapon taught me.
Or maybe my ability did.
I'd never really understood the difference.
By the end of the test, my movements had changed completely from the beginning.
The final construct attacked.
I stepped inside its swing, redirected the weapon past my shoulder and placed the blade against the opening beneath its arm.
Finished.
I exhaled.
The researchers weren't looking at me.
They were looking at the data.
Dr. Vey turned toward one of them.
"Progression?"
The researcher hesitated.
"Initial performance was within C technical standards."
That sounded insulting.
"Final minute?"
He swallowed.
"Cannot determine."
The gallery stirred.
Dr. Vey looked back at me.
"Mr. Skyline, what exactly is your ability?"
I stared at the weapon in my hand.
"Swords."
"We know that."
"Then we're making progress."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She stepped closer to the barrier.
"Are you copying techniques?"
"No."
"Reading stored information from the weapons?"
"I don't think so."
"Instinctive combat prediction?"
"No."
"Then explain what happened."
I looked down at the unfamiliar blade.
How was I supposed to explain something that had always simply happened?
"I understand swords."
Dr. Vey waited.
"That's your explanation?"
"Pretty much."
She rubbed her forehead.
Bladeon stood.
The movement caught everyone's attention.
He walked down the gallery steps toward the arena entrance.
Dr. Vey noticed.
"Bladeon?"
"I want to test something."
The audience reacted immediately.
So did I.
That sounded fun.
Dr. Vey looked considerably less enthusiastic.
"This is a controlled assessment."
"I know."
"Kai Skyline is still recovering from significant injuries."
"I know."
"Then you understand why I'm not authorizing a spar."
"I didn't ask for one."
Bladeon entered the arena.
He carried a wooden training sword.
Then he picked up another and tossed it toward me.
I caught it with my right hand.
"Copy me," he said.
I frowned.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
He took a stance.
I'd seen something similar yesterday, but not exactly.
His feet shifted.
Blade angled downward.
Shoulders relaxed.
Then he performed a sequence.
Slowly.
Five movements.
Nothing spectacular.
A cut, transition, step, turn and thrust.
He stopped.
"Your turn."
I repeated it.
Bladeon watched.
"Again."
I did.
His expression changed slightly.
"Faster."
I repeated the sequence.
My shoulder complained during the turn.
I compensated.
"Don't compensate."
"Then it's going to hurt."
"I know."
Dr. Vey interrupted.
"No."
Bladeon nodded.
"Fair."
He changed the sequence.
This one was more complicated.
Seven movements.
I watched once.
Repeated it.
Another.
Nine movements.
Repeated.
He began changing details.
Grip.
Foot position.
Timing.
Angles.
Sometimes the difference was tiny.
I still saw it.
The audience had become completely silent.
Then Bladeon performed something I didn't understand.
That got my attention.
The sequence started normally, but halfway through, his weight shifted in a way that looked wrong. The wooden sword accelerated without the usual movement from his shoulder.
I frowned.
"Again."
He did.
I watched his feet.
"Again."
Third time.
His hips.
"Again."
Fourth.
Breathing.
"Again."
Fifth.
I saw it.
"Oh."
Bladeon stopped.
"Show me."
I took the stance.
Started the movement.
My back foot pressed into the ground.
Force traveled upward.
Ankle.
Knee.
Hip.
Core.
Shoulder.
I stopped.
The wooden blade had barely moved.
Pain had already sparked through my right side.
"Nope."
A few people laughed nervously.
Bladeon didn't.
"Why did you stop?"
"Because finishing that at your speed would tear my shoulder and probably my hip."
"Correct."
The room went quiet again.
Bladeon lowered his weapon.
"Do you understand the technique?"
"Yes."
"Can you perform it?"
"Not properly."
"Why?"
"My body can't do what I know how to make it do."
There it was.
The simplest explanation I'd found.
Bladeon turned toward Dr. Vey.
"That's your contradiction."
The researchers began talking at once.
Screens changed throughout the observation room.
My physical results appeared beside my technical assessment.
STRENGTH: C-
SPEED: C PROJECTED
DURABILITY: C
ENDURANCE: C
Then:
WEAPON COMPREHENSION: ERROR
That wasn't encouraging.
The word disappeared.
RECALCULATING
Then:
WEAPON COMPREHENSION: SSS+
The gallery erupted.
The result lasted less than a second.
ERROR
I stared.
"Did I break it?"
Nobody answered.
"That's a yes."
Dr. Vey raised her voice.
"Quiet!"
The gallery slowly settled.
One of the researchers approached her with a tablet.
They spoke privately.
Dr. Vey's expression changed.
She looked at the screen.
Then at me.
Then back at the screen.
"Run the developmental model again."
"We've run it six times."
"Run it again."
They did.
I stood awkwardly in the middle of the arena while hundreds of people watched scientists argue about me.
Eventually, the lights dimmed.
My profile appeared above the arena.
KAI SKYLINE
I looked up.
The first result appeared.
CURRENT GRADE: C
Noise immediately filled the gallery.
I wasn't surprised.
Honestly, after this morning, C felt generous.
Then another line appeared.
TALENT CEILING:
Nothing.
The screen remained blank.
Dr. Vey frowned.
A researcher typed something.
The display flickered.
TALENT CEILING: X
Silence.
Real silence.
Not people choosing not to speak.
People forgetting how.
I stared upward.
X.
The empty letter.
Yesterday, Bladeon had received an SSS ceiling.
Benny, Threya and Montiro had received SS.
Mine said X.
Another result appeared beneath it.
ASSESSMENT CONFIDENCE: 12%
I blinked.
"That's reassuring."
Nobody laughed.
Dr. Vey stepped onto the arena floor.
She looked almost annoyed by the result.
Good.
At least there were two of us.
"To be clear," she announced, "this assessment does not predict that Kai Skyline will become X-grade."
The cameras focused on her.
"It indicates that the developmental model cannot establish a reliable upper boundary for his weapon-based ability using available data. The X projection is provisional and carries extremely low confidence."
That sounded much less impressive.
I preferred it.
A reporter shouted from above.
"Has anyone received an X ceiling before?"
Dr. Vey looked toward the media section.
"No."
The room exploded.
There it was.
Questions came from everywhere.
Was I stronger than Bladeon?
No.
Could I become X?
Apparently nobody knew.
Was my ability unique?
Probably.
Did the Ygros fight influence the projection?
Yes.
Did X mean I had the highest potential of any hero alive?
Dr. Vey immediately refused that interpretation.
Good.
Potential wasn't strength.
I'd learned that today better than anyone.
Bladeon approached.
He looked up at the results.
CURRENT: C
CEILING: X
Then at me.
"Interesting."
"That's one word."
"Disappointed?"
"About C?"
He nodded.
I considered it.
Yesterday, every Flag-Bearer had been ranked B.
Bladeon stood at SS.
There were S-rank heroes capable of catching artillery shells and controlling entire battlefields.
I was nowhere near them.
Not yet.
I looked at the C again.
Then at the X above it.
"Higher than I expected."
Bladeon smiled.
My phone started vibrating somewhere with my belongings.
Again.
Again.
Again.
I didn't need to look.
The entire world had just watched Kai Skyline, the supposed monster who drove away the First Apocalypse, receive C-rank.
And somehow that wasn't the part everyone would remember.
I looked once more at the distance between the two letters.
C.
X.
A measurement of what I was.
A guess at what I might become.
Between them sat B, A, S, SS and SSS, along with every person currently stronger than me.
For the first time since I'd woken from the ice, that distance didn't feel insulting.
It felt exciting.
I tightened my grip around the wooden sword.
There was a lot of room above me.