Sprinting Towards a New Horizon
The track is bustling with activity—people of all shapes and sizes are stretching, jogging in place, and eyeing the competition. The 100-meter sprint is the next hurdle I have to clear, and I can't help but feel a knot of anxiety tightening in my gut. I've never been much of a sprinter, even in my high school days, but I'm not the same person I was back then. I have Mana on my side now.
As I scan the track, I notice the starting blocks and the wide, open lanes of the sprinting field. It's imposing, to say the least, and I can't deny the surge of adrenaline that courses through me at the sight of it. This is where I'll truly test my newfound abilities against the other Awakened.
I take a moment to assess the competition. There's a woman with muscles so defined they look like they've been carved from stone, a man whose eyes are focused with such intensity that I can almost feel the heat of his gaze from where I stand. They're all likely Awakened, their bodies honed and shaped by the power of Mana. Compared to them, my muscles look average at best, below average at worst. It's a humbling realization, but I remind myself that looks can be deceiving.
The burly man turns to me, his voice stern yet encouraging. "Carter, before you hit the track, I suggest you heal up those chest and arm muscles. You've pushed them hard today, and we wouldn't want any unnecessary injuries, would we?"
I nod in response to the burly man's advice, understanding the need to heal before the sprint. I find a spot on the bleachers, away from the hustle and bustle of the track, and take a seat. Closing my eyes, I focus on the familiar sensation of my Mana Core, channeling the energy to mend the strain in my chest and arms from the bench press. The Mana flows through me, a cool, invigorating current that knits together the microscopic tears in my muscles, leaving me feeling refreshed and ready for the next challenge.
As I open my eyes, the sight of the other Awakened, each absorbed in their own preparation, captures my attention. They sit or stand in various states of repose, their faces etched with calm as they draw upon their own Mana Cores. It strikes me as odd that, despite the concentration of Awakened in this area, I am unable to perceive the flow of Mana around them. It's as if each person's Mana is a private affair, visible only to themselves, an isolated stream that does not intersect with the Mana of others.
This peculiarity had been a topic of discussion on social media, with many noting their inability to sense or see another's Mana, even when they are actively absorbing it. It's an intriguing quirk that seems to be a common experience among everyone. As I sit there, mulling over this oddity, I'm reminded of how much there is still to learn about Mana and its effects on us. With a sense of anticipation, I rise from the bleachers, eager to explore my own connection to Mana on the track and to confront the unanswered questions that lie ahead.
After a few moments of quiet reflection, I make my way toward the starting line. The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the track. I can feel the energy of the other competitors as they prepare for the sprint, their focus and determination palpable in the air. Finally, it's my turn to step up to the starting line. The official calls out my name, and I take my position in the designated lane. I need to sprint 100 meters in under 11 seconds, a requirement I know I can meet as an Awakened.
As I scan the faces and physiques of the nine other Awakened who will be running alongside me, I take a calculated assessment of their potential. Out of the ten sprinters here, four stand out as beatable. Three of them carry more weight than seems optimal for speed, and the fourth, though lean, lacks the typical muscular build of a seasoned sprinter. I store this information away, knowing that every advantage counts in a race where fractions of a second can mean the difference between victory and defeat.
I look down the track, my heart pounding in my chest. I know I've only been training for three weeks, a mere fraction of the time these other Awakened have likely dedicated to their craft. Despite my rapid transformation from an average office worker to someone capable of bench pressing 140 kilograms with the help of Mana, I'm acutely aware that many of my competitors have honed their bodies and their control over Mana for much longer. Their physiques, already muscular before forming their Mana Cores, suggest years of disciplined training that I can't hope to match in just three weeks.
This knowledge tempers my approach; unlike my experiences in Korzuv, where I had to conceal the true extent of my abilities, here I can afford to reveal my capabilities without fear of repercussion. My performance is solid, but not extraordinary among the Awakened, and that allows me to run this race without holding back, yet without exposing any unique strengths that might draw unwanted attention.
I take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand. I infuse my legs with Mana, feeling the energy coil and tighten within my muscles, ready to explode into motion at a moment's notice. I crouch down into the starting blocks, my eyes fixed on the finish line. Despite the odds, I'm determined to push myself to the limit, to see how far my newfound abilities can take me in this race against others who have walked the path of the Awakened far longer than I have. I know that showing too much prowess can be a double-edged sword, but here, on this track, I'm just another soldier striving to prove my worth. With Mana fueling my strides, I prepare to sprint with all the speed and power at my command, ready to embrace whatever outcome the race may bring.
"On your marks..." the person in charge calls out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise of the crowd. My body tenses, ready to spring into action.
"Set..."
A wave of silence washes over me, the world narrowing down to this one moment, this one race.
"Go!"
The gunshot echoes in my ears as I launch myself forward with all the strength and speed that Mana can provide. The track beneath my feet is a blur, the wind whipping against my face as I push myself harder and faster than I ever have before.
By the quarter line, I'm in fifth place out of ten, a surprising start that fuels my determination. The footsteps of my competitors pound against the track like a relentless drumbeat, each step a testament to their raw power and swift pace. The air is thick with exertion and the shared drive of those who have embraced the path of the Awakened, each of us striving to outdo the other in this test of speed and endurance.
As I reach the halfway mark, I find myself slipping back to seventh place. My lungs are burning, my muscles screaming for relief, but I refuse to let up. I pour more Mana into my legs, the energy surging through my veins like liquid fire.
When I finally cross the finish line, I'm panting heavily, my body slick with sweat. I've come in second-to-last, a result that's both disappointing and eye-opening. I lost to three of the four people I'd initially marked as beatable, and the realization that I've underestimated my competition strikes me like a physical blow. The bigger of the three heavier individuals was the one who fell behind, while the others managed to clock in at sub-10 seconds, with some even breaking the 8-second barrier.
I double over, hands on my knees as I struggle to catch my breath. The burly man approaches me, a clipboard in hand, and jots down my time.
"Well done, Carter," he says, his tone neutral. "You clocked in at 9.5 seconds."
9.5 seconds. It's not a bad time, especially considering where I started, but it's clear that I have a long way to go if I want to stand toe-to-toe with the best of the Awakened. As I stand there, the reality of the situation sinks in. This is just the beginning—my journey has only just begun.
I take a moment to catch my breath, my legs still burning from the sprint. The burly man who's been overseeing the tests gestures for me to return to the starting line of the track, where the next challenge—a 5-kilometer run—will put my endurance to the test. As I look ahead at the track that stretches out before me, I feel a twinge of nervousness about the distance I'll need to cover. This same ground where I've just given my all will soon demand even more from me.
Three weeks of training have brought me a long way from the office-bound life I used to lead, and while I've made significant strides in strength and speed, endurance is a different beast altogether. The 5K test is daunting, but I remind myself that I've run this distance before. My best time, according to the running app on my phone, is under 20 minutes—a time that's considered advanced and near elite for a non-Awakened. However, among the Awakened, my time is below average, a humbling reminder of the vast potential that Mana unlocks.
As I prepare for the run, I allow Mana to flow into my legs, soothing the soreness from the sprints. The energy is cool and soothing, like liquid silver coursing through my veins. I flex my muscles, feeling the power coiling within them, ready to be unleashed. I look around at the other Awakened warriors-in-training, their bodies exuding a quiet confidence. I've read reports about how the Awakened have shattered previous athletic records, some achieving times in the 5K that were once thought impossible. It's a humbling thought, and I can't help but feel a surge of determination. I decide to set a personal goal for this test: sub-18 minutes. It's ambitious, but achievable with the right amount of Mana infusion.
I survey the sports facility, taking in the sheer number of Awakened gathered here. There must be close to 200 of us, all eager to secure a place in the military. The 20% fatality rate associated with forming a Mana Core hasn't deterred these hopefuls, and it seems that the allure of exploring the gates is a powerful motivator for many.
As I think back to the news reports about the gates in Alstropia, it's clear that even 200 new recruits might not be enough. There are likely other recruitment centers scattered across the country, but I doubt the total number of new Awakened soldiers will reach 5,000. The mystery of the gates is compelling, and the prospect of being among the first to explore them is both thrilling and daunting.
It's not just the number of gates in Alstropia that's concerning—it's the sheer scale of what lies beyond them. With so many gates appearing, it would take an army to properly explore and secure them. The military's theory of sending in the Awakened is untested and fraught with peril. The fact that none who have entered the gates have returned only adds to the sense of uncertainty and danger. The world is watching, waiting to see what lies within the enigmatic portals, and it's the Awakened—those of us who have managed to survive the formation of a Mana Core—who will be at the forefront of this new era of exploration and, potentially, conflict.
Finally, it's my turn to step up to the starting line. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what's to come. The Awakened division is where I need to be—it's the only way to ensure I'm not thrown into the gates as disposable manpower. The reality is simple: if I don't make the cut, I'll be nothing more than a nameless soldier, sent into danger with no one to care if I make it back. That's not the life I want, and it's definitely not the way I plan to go out.
This race isn't just about proving my physical capabilities; it's about securing a future with better pay and access to top-notch training facilities. The idea of venturing through the gates doesn't appeal to me unless there's a guarantee of safety and a clear benefit. I'm here for the tangible rewards, for the chance to elevate my life and ensure my family's well-being.
As I position myself in the starting blocks, I know there's no room for error. This is the moment that could change everything. I've put in the work, pushing my body to its limits and mastering the use of my Mana Core. I'm not about to let hesitation or fear hold me back now.
I fill my lungs with air, feeling the anticipation build. My heart thumps steadily, counting down the seconds until the race begins. The outcome of this trial will determine my path forward, and I'm laser-focused on crossing that finish line ahead of the competition. The future is uncertain, but right now, it's all about the next few minutes on this track. This is my chance to show what I'm made of and to claim the life I've been striving for—one of financial stability and personal achievement.
With a curt nod to the official, I steel myself for the challenge ahead. The sound of the starting pistol will signal the start of my fight for a better future—a future where I call the shots and reap the rewards of my hard work.