The Weight of Expectation

The room was frozen.

Not in fear, not in confusion, but in something deeper—an uncertainty that settled in the air like static before a storm. My words had shattered whatever preconceived notions they had about me, leaving them with nothing but the overwhelming realization that I was something outside their understanding.

Those who had defended me were too stunned to respond, their mouths slightly open, their bodies tense as they processed the magnitude of what I had just declared.

But those against me?

They erupted.

"This is a joke!"

"He's delusional!"

"You think you're above them?! Who the hell do you think you are?!"

And leading that furious outcry was Elliot Vance.

His face twisted with sheer disbelief, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had already despised the idea of me standing among them, but now? Now I had challenged the very foundation of his reality. In their eyes, Mr. Fox and Mr. Dust were legendary figures, untouchable in their respective fields, and yet I had claimed to be greater than both of them.

"You arrogant—" Elliot stormed forward, his breath ragged with anger, his voice rising over the others. "You're just spewing nonsense to sound impressive! You don't have the skills, the experience, or the proof to back up anything you just said!"

I remained still, watching him, waiting.

Then, just as he got within arm's reach, I simply raised a hand—and lightly tapped his shoulder.

A subtle movement, yet one that made him freeze. Not because of force, not because of intimidation, but because of the meaning behind it.

It was a message.

"Be still and watch. Do not rush, do not force—just see. In watching, truth will reveal itself."

Elliot's breath hitched, his eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher whether my confidence was insanity or something far worse—justified. Though in all honesty, I was just pretending to be divine.

The room was still buzzing with tension when the A-Rank Judge cleared her throat, bringing order back to the chaos. She had remained quiet through the entire spectacle, observing rather than interfering. Now, she finally spoke.

"You've declared your participation in this trial," she said, her gaze locked onto me. "What position are you aiming for?"

I met her stare. "Astronaut."

A few audible gasps rang through the crowd.

Elliot's jaw tensed. Some of the other competitors shook their heads in disbelief.

The judge, however, remained neutral. "Understood. You'll wait on the sidelines for now. The astronaut trials begin after the others have completed their evaluations. Expect a wait of at least one to two hours."

I nodded. Simple enough.

A clipboard was handed to me. Attached to it was a detailed breakdown of the astronaut examination, listing each of the ten challenges I would need to pass. My eyes scanned through the sections:

1. Spacecraft Operations – Piloting, docking, emergency procedures.

2. Extravehicular Activity (EVA) – Spacewalks, maintenance, suit operation.

3. Scientific Research & Experiments – Lab work, biological tests, chemical analysis.

4. Robotics & Mechanical Skills – Operating robotic arms, maintenance, assembly.

5. Emergency Response – Fire, depressurization, toxic leaks, CPR.

6. Navigation & Communication – Orbital mechanics, radio protocols, international teamwork.

7. Physical & Mental Resilience – Muscle/bone maintenance, stress management, psychological endurance.

8. Spacecraft Repair & Maintenance – Troubleshooting systems, electrical and software repairs.

9. Survival Training – Harsh environment survival, extreme temperature adaptation.

10. Basic Medical Training – First aid, space-related health concerns, radiation exposure.

I scanned through each one carefully.

For the most part? I felt zero concern.

Physical endurance? Not an issue. My body had been molded by years of working, though it was mostly my A-Rank jobs: Construction Worker and Firefighter. Beyond that, I had Endurance Mastery, Heavy Lifting and best of all, my level 10 Endurance Boost. Manual labor wasn't labor at this point—it was just movement.

Survival training? Easy. The kind of conditions they were testing for would be easily defeated by my detective skills mixed with my body.

Emergency response? Been there, done that. My work as Mr. Fox had put me through enough life-or-death scenarios to make standard emergency protocols look like child's play.

Even EVA training, which involved operating in microgravity, wasn't an issue. I might not have personal experience, but I had my Instinct skill to make it work.

But then, my eyes settled on Robotics & Mechanical Skills.

I frowned.

That... could be a problem.

I had zero practical knowledge in spacecraft engineering. Sure, I understood the basic principles of robotics, due to the skill I got a couple moments ago, but actual operation? Assembly? Troubleshooting?

I couldn't just wing that.

And I couldn't use Absorb here. At least, not openly. If I pulled out a book and suddenly mastered an entire subject in the span of ten minutes, that would cause a scene even bigger than the one I had already created.

So, I had no choice but to wait.

Standing at the sidelines, I watched the other candidates take their tests. Different roles were being evaluated—engineers, physicists, pilots. Each of them underwent a grueling series of examinations to determine whether they were fit for their respective positions.

But the one person I focused on the most?

Elliot Vance.

Despite our obvious conflict, I had to admit—the guy was good.

Scratch that. He was insanely good.

For every test thrown his way, he handled it with the precision and confidence of someone who had been training for years. Whether it was operating spacecraft systems, emergency procedures, or simulated spacewalks, he executed everything flawlessly.

The judges took note.

It was obvious that Elliot was already being considered for NASA's final selection.

And why wouldn't he be? He was B-Rank—significantly above the average participant. His movements were sharp, his decisions precise, and his knowledge extensive.

For a moment, I actually wondered.

Would I have been able to reach his level if I had taken the traditional route? Years of study, years of dedicated training?

Probably not.

I wasn't here because of academic achievements.

I was here because I was a phenomenon.

After nearly two hours, my name was finally called.

The moment it was announced, the energy in the room shifted.

Everyone who had been whispering before was now openly staring. The air was thick with anticipation—an unspoken demand for me to prove myself.

I stepped forward, my boots clicking against the floor.

Elliot crossed his arms, watching me with an expression that could only be described as "let's see you fail."

The judge overseeing the trial motioned toward the starting area.

"We'll begin with physical endurance tests," she announced. "This will determine your capability to handle the physical strain of astronaut work. You will be required to perform high-intensity tasks in limited oxygen conditions. This includes weight training, stamina evaluations, and prolonged muscle control exercises. Proceed when ready."

I nodded.

The test began.

And for the next thirty minutes...

I utterly demolished it.

Not once did I slow down. Not once did I struggle. The weights, the oxygen restrictions, the sheer intensity—none of it fazed me. I moved through the exercises with unwavering efficiency, not even breaking a sweat.

By the time I finished the final endurance segment, the examiners were silent.

The competitors were staring.

Even Elliot, who had been watching so intently, looked... uncertain.

I walked past him, pausing briefly by his side.

Then, in a calm, measured voice, I said:

"Look deeper. What you see first is not all there is."

I didn't stay to watch his reaction.

Because the judge was already stepping forward, clipboard in hand.

"Next," she announced. "We move on to Robotics and Mechanical Skills."

...And just like that, my confidence evaporated.

Oh.

Oh, no.

I was so screwed.