A Skill Without Purpose

Uravis' eyes narrowed. He had assumed there wouldn't be a need for a test—after all, wasn't he chosen because of his gaming skills? But now that a test was on the table, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly she was looking for.

"Why do you need to measure my skill after already choosing me?" he asked, his tone laced with frustration. He watched Arkeia closely, hoping for any flicker of emotion, but her expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever.

She chuckled softly, the sound almost mocking. "Games are different from real-life combat, Uravis. While your skills in the gaming world are exceptional," she paused, turning to face him fully, her piercing gaze scanning him from head to toe, "you are still a mortal. Physically, we have no idea how skilled you are."

Her words carried weight as she concluded, "Therefore, it is necessary to measure your skills and abilities before proceeding."

Uravis scoffed, already dreading the prospect of taking a test. The very idea made his head throb, and he was determined to avoid it at all costs.

"I've already proven myself in the gaming world," he argued. "I don't need some pointless test to show you what I can do. Besides, isn't the Ascender Games itself just another game?" His voice carried a mix of defiance and irritation.

Arkeia's patience was wearing thin, but she maintained her composure. "Uravis," she said softly, though her tone held a steely edge, "the gaming world is not the divine realm. Here, skills and abilities are measured differently. Do you understand?"

Uravis hesitated but gave a slow nod, earning a faint smile from her.

"Good. Now, come," she said, gesturing toward a glowing platform near the throne at the end of the hall. "Let us begin."

He hesitated as he approached the platform, his mind conjuring images of movies and comics where such scenarios ended badly—sacrifices, curses, or worse. For a fleeting moment, he considered running.

But his desire to return home, to redeem himself in the eyes of his team, overpowered his doubts. Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the platform. The hall fell silent.

As the test began, Uravis felt a strange energy course through his body. Blurry images and scenarios flashed through his mind, each designed to test his skills, abilities, and potential. At first, the tests seemed simple—almost too straightforward.

But just as he began to relax, everything changed. The images grew more complex, the challenges almost impossible to comprehend. He couldn't tell what was happening in the physical world; it was as though his mind was trapped within the simulation.

Panic set in as he struggled to keep up. It felt like his very being was being torn apart and reassembled, over and over again. His heart pounded in his chest, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.

Finally, the test ended. The images vanished, and Uravis was thrust back into reality. He stood on the platform, panting, his mind a scrambled mess.

Arkeia stepped forward, a crystal orb in her hands. Her expression was unreadable, giving him no clue whether she was pleased or disappointed. The hall was heavy with silence as the other deities watched, their faces a mixture of skepticism and curiosity.

They had expected something grand—a brilliant display of light or overwhelming energy—but all they had seen was a faint glow that had flickered briefly around Uravis and vanished just as quickly.

Arkeia glanced at the orb, her gaze thoughtful. She then turned her attention back to him, her expression still devoid of emotion. With a wave of her hand, the orb disappeared, reappearing in Uravis' hands.

"Uravis," she began, her voice steady, "your skill is... interesting. Unique, even. It is unlike anything we've encountered before."

Hope flickered in his chest. He clung to the idea that this "unique" skill might be extraordinary, something unmatched.

"You possess only one skill," she continued, her voice carrying a weight that made his stomach twist. "Login."

Her words sent a ripple of murmurs through the gathered deities, their whispers tinged with confusion and doubt.

Uravis' heart sank. The term sounded unimpressive, almost useless. He clenched his fists, his mind racing to make sense of what she had said.

"Unfortunately," Arkeia added coldly, her tone devoid of sympathy, "your skill has no rank or immediate value in the divine realm."

Her final words hit him like a blow, and he felt as though the ground beneath him had vanished. The disappointment in the air was palpable, even as he tried to maintain a shred of hope.

Uravis' mind spun as he struggled to process the revelation. He had hoped that his gaming skills—his sharp reflexes, his strategic mind—would translate into something extraordinary in the divine realm. Instead, all it had earned him was a seemingly useless skill: Login.

"B-but what about my strategic mind?" he stammered, hating the desperation creeping into his voice. "My quick reflexes? Surely those count for something?"

Arkeia shook her head, her fiery hair shimmering under the light. "Those traits, while impressive in your world, hold no weight here without a substantial ability to back them. We require skills of greater significance."

Her words hit Uravis like a punch to the gut. His chest tightened, and his breaths came in shallow gasps as he fought to maintain composure. He couldn't help but think about everyone he had let down—his teammates, his city, even his little sister who relied on him for her future.

The weight of failure pressed down on him like an anchor.

How would he ever make it up to them?

How could he go back to his team and explain that he'd failed not only them but himself?

His crimson eyes clouded with regret as he imagined the disappointed faces of his team and the president who had believed in him.

Arkeia's gaze remained cold, devoid of even a flicker of empathy. To her, he was no more than a failed experiment. She raised her hand, and a strange sensation washed over Uravis, like static crawling beneath his skin.

"Replace him," she commanded, her voice sharp and emotionless.

In an instant, a towering figure materialized beside Uravis. The man exuded power—his skin like polished marble, his piercing blue eyes glowing with divine energy. He was clad in silver armor so radiant it reflected the light of the grand hall.

"Ah, Kael," Arkeia said, a faint smile breaking through her otherwise stoic demeanor. "You will be our new candidate for the Ascender Games. I trust you were prepared adequately?"

"Of course, Lady Arkeia," the man replied, his voice smooth and confident. He cast a mocking glance at Uravis, who outwardly maintained his composure but was crumbling inside.

Uravis took a deep breath, willing himself not to react. He wouldn't let them see how deeply this cut. Instead, he squared his shoulders and spoke, his voice steadier than he felt.

"I'd like to return home now."

Arkeia's attention flicked back to him, her expression colder than ever.

"That is not possible," she said, her tone laced with disdain. "Your only chance to return was to succeed in the Ascender Games. Since you've proven yourself unworthy, there is no place for you here—or anywhere."

Her words were like shards of ice, cutting deeper than any weapon. Before Uravis could even respond, Arkeia snapped her fingers.

In a flash, he was gone.

The hall's attention shifted to Kael, who followed Arkeia's lead without hesitation, ready to prepare for the mission ahead. Uravis had been dismissed as easily as a broken tool, his existence forgotten in mere seconds.

But for Uravis, this was only the beginning. Banished from the divine realm with no clear path back to Earth, he found himself stranded in an unfamiliar land, his fate uncertain.