The light collapsed.
James sucked in a breath as the world snapped back into place.
The device was still beneath his hand.
Unbroken.
Stable.
Like nothing had happened.
His chest felt tight.
Not from pain.
From something forced into place.
"…That was fast," one of them said.
No one explained what that meant.
The readings on the device flickered.
Then smoothed.
"Continue," the woman said.
James frowned slightly. "What just—"
"Residual spike," the third evaluator said. "Focus."
It didn't sound convincing.
But James stayed still.
The energy was still there.
Different now.
Smaller.
Compressed.
"Category," the evaluator muttered.
The readings shifted again.
Paused.
"…Support."
A brief silence followed.
The man near the wall frowned. "You sure?"
"It's the closest match."
Another pause.
"Log it," the woman said.
James let out a slow breath.
Support.
Not the worst.
"Grade," the evaluator continued.
The device pulsed again.
Numbers flickered—
Too fast to follow.
A slight stutter—
Then—
"C-rank."
Final.
James leaned back slightly.
C-rank support.
"Static Field," the woman said.
He repeated it under his breath.
"Passive electrical field. Minor enhancement. Close-range effect."
Not impressive.
But usable.
"Try it."
James focused.
The faint buzz returned.
Gathered.
A tiny spark snapped across his fingers—
and vanished.
He stared at his hand.
"…Again," the man said.
James tried.
Nothing.
The feeling slipped away.
"Inconsistent," the evaluator noted.
James exhaled slowly.
"Control will improve," the woman said.
But her eyes weren't on him.
They were on the device.