Army's Reality

- Oliver -

Even from the back of the line, Oliver could still watch the challengers. Alan was up next. He strode toward the entrance with a casual confidence, perhaps bolstered by having watched others navigate the challenge before him.

As the doors sealed shut behind Alan, the holographic display above the arena flickered to life, projecting his progress for all to see. The initial levels seemed manageable; he moved with deliberate ease, dodging the first volleys of projectiles. But like many before him, Alan met his match at the third level. The projectiles increased in speed and unpredictability, and a well-aimed shot clipped his shoulder, signaling his elimination.

'Agility isn't your strong suit, then,' Oliver thought.

Moments later, Alan emerged from the chamber, rubbing his shoulder with a wry grimace. "Ouch! That hurt," he muttered, rejoining the line next to Oliver.

Shortly after, it was Isabela's turn. Oliver noticed her hands trembling slightly as she approached the entrance—a stark contrast to her usual exuberant demeanor. The doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss, swallowing her into the chamber.

She navigated the first two levels with precision, her eyes focused and movements calculated. But at the third level, fate took a cruel turn. Her foot landed on a stray projectile, its rounded surface causing her to slip. In that split second of imbalance, a projectile struck her squarely, ending her run.

She exited the arena flushed, her cheeks a fiery red. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against her skin. Oliver sensed the simmering frustration radiating from her—a volatile mix of anger and disappointment.

"Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!" Isabela whispered to herself, each word a mantra as she struggled to regain composure.

"Nice work to those who survived the first test, but you won't have much time to rest. We'll move on to the second stage right away. This one will be simpler, but don't confuse simplicity with ease," the officer spoke as he guided the students out of the testing hall.

He led the group out of the testing hall and into the open air. Surrounding them was a swath of open ground—a buffer before the dense forest of towering, bio-engineered trees began. Within this clearing, an oval track was etched into the ground, its path marked by luminescent strips that pulsed gently.

Before the recruits could ponder the next challenge, the officer began his briefing. "Your second test will commence in three minutes and will assess your endurance," he declared. "All of you must run on this track around the building for the next hour. Points will be awarded for each completed lap. Simple, right?"

He paused, a subtle smile hinting at the twist to come. "Not quite. There will be some surprises. The first is the artificial gravity generator embedded beneath this track. With each step you take, the gravitational force will increase by 0.01%."

'0.01%? So little?' Oliver judged.

[Countdown initiated.]

[180 seconds remaining]

"Everyone line up on this line. When the countdown ends, start running," the officer explained.

[3 seconds... 2 seconds... 1 second...]

[Second test initiated]

As soon as the starting signal reverberated across the training grounds, a thunderous stampede ensued. Hundreds of recruits surged forward, their synchronized footsteps echoing like a heartbeat against the expanse of the Academy's artificial terrain. Some exploded off the line with all their might, eager to gain an early advantage, while most clustered together in a tight pack, conserving energy and observing the competition.

The initial strides felt deceptively ordinary. Oliver scarcely noticed the subtle shift in weight; it was as if a single feather had been added to his gear. But as they neared the completion of the first lap, an uncanny sensation crept in. The feather-light burden gradually transformed, each step amplifying the gravitational pull ever so slightly. It was as though invisible weights were being added with every footfall. Around him, some recruits began to labor, their breaths growing heavier, faces flushing with effort.

Oliver maintained a steady pace, his demeanor calm amidst the escalating strain. His prior labor hauling Ork carcasses had fortified his body, granting him a resilience that now served him well. Glancing sideways, he caught sight of Isabela. A confident smile played on her lips—a stark contrast to her earlier anxiety during the agility test. She seemed to thrive under this challenge.

[The second phase will start in 60 seconds]

[Any candidate one lap behind will be eliminated]

[3 candidates will be eliminated in 60 seconds]

'They're pushing us to quicken our pace,' Oliver thought, feeling the gravity's incremental increase. 'This is only going to get tougher.' He chose to conserve his breath, focusing his energy on the task ahead.

At the rear, two girls and a boy struggled to keep up, red crosses flickering ominously above their heads. Their faces were flushed, sweat pouring down as they fought for every step. Desperation edged their movements; falling behind now meant immediate elimination.

A sudden commotion snapped Oliver's attention forward. A sharp yelp cut through the rhythmic pounding of feet. Up ahead, a muscular boy had lashed out, delivering a brutal kick to another recruit's knee. The victim crumpled to the ground, clutching his leg in agony. Shouts of anger erupted, but there was no time to intervene. The mass of runners swept past him like a river around a stone. He had seconds to decide—give up or push through the pain.

[3... 2... 1...]

[4 candidates eliminated]

As the countdown concluded, figures clad in pristine white appeared beside the fallen recruits. Medics or enforcers, Oliver wasn't sure. They moved with swift precision, whisking the eliminated away before vanishing as abruptly as they had come. A ripple of unease spread through the pack. Eyes darted to the overseeing officer, expecting reprimand for the blatant aggression. But he remained impassive, offering no acknowledgment.

'So that's how competition works here,' Oliver mused bitterly. The memory of the first test surfaced—the strict prohibition against harming others. But here, silence implied consent. The Academy was testing more than physical limits, probing their willingness to do whatever it took to survive.

The collective unity shattered. Recruits began to distance themselves, wary glances replacing the camaraderie of minutes before. Small groups coalesced—alliances formed out of necessity. Oliver scanned the thinning crowd for familiar faces. Alan was nearby, matching his stride, but Isabela had surged ahead, perhaps seeking to avoid the brewing conflict.

"Stick close," Oliver suggested to Alan, his voice low. Alan nodded, understanding unspoken.

They hadn't gone far when the sound of rapid footsteps approached from behind. Oliver turned, but it was too late—a fist connected sharply with his side, sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain radiated through his ribs as he fought to draw breath.

"Stay down, Nameless," a cold voice sneered above him. A girl with hard eyes and a cruel smirk glared down, contempt etched on her features. "It'll be better for you."

A spatter of spit landed near his face as she rejoined her group, disappearing into the crowd. Anger and humiliation warred within him, but there was no time to dwell.

Alan reached him, urgency in his gaze. "Come on, we have to keep running..."

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Oliver accepted Alan's outstretched hand, pulling himself up.

[The third phase will start in 300 seconds]

[Any candidate more than 600 meters behind the first place will be eliminated]

[9 candidates will be eliminated in 300 seconds]

As they resumed running, Oliver could feel the atmosphere shift. The track had become a battlefield, every runner for themselves or their chosen few. He and Alan kept to the middle, trying to avoid drawing attention while maintaining enough speed.

A sudden shout drew their eyes forward. "What was that?" Oliver exclaimed. Up ahead, a recruit slammed his fist into the ground. Instantly, jagged spikes of stone erupted from the track, forming a hazardous barrier. Runners veered wildly to avoid the obstacle, chaos spreading through the ranks.

Before they could adjust their course, a figure blurred past them—a girl with fierce determination etched on her face. Instead of dodging, she charged directly at the stone spikes. With a burst of raw power, she smashed through the barrier, shards of rock exploding around her.

Oliver's mind reeled. 'What kind of abilities are these? Are these from Z Crystals?'

The increasing gravity bore down relentlessly. Each step demanded more effort, muscles straining under the compounded weight. Oliver's lungs burned, but he pushed forward. He cast a sidelong glance at Alan, who, despite the strain, seemed to handle the pressure with surprising endurance.

'I didn't expect him to be so resilient,' Oliver thought, a flicker of admiration stirring. But there was no time for distraction. The pack was thinning, the leaders pulling further ahead.

Minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The sweat blurred his vision, every breath a labor. But surrender was not an option. The memory of the girl's disdain, the ruthless competition—it all fueled his resolve.

"Keep going," he urged himself. "One step at a time."

[5 candidates eliminated]

Only 11 candidates remained of the 20. Oliver could see that Isabela and the blonde-haired girl were still far ahead of them, almost a whole lap in front.

[Second test completed]

Many recruits collapsed to the ground to catch their breath and rest.

"Rest while you can; you still have two more challenges today. But before we move on to the next one, each of you will receive your grades," the old officer warned them.

[Evaluating...]

A new hologram appeared in front of each recruit, displaying their evaluations.

[Evaluated status: Endurance]

[Grade: Pawn]

Oliver was satisfied with his evaluation. The boy felt he might have scored higher, but with the risk of being attacked by others, this was realistically his best outcome.

Nearby, Isabela was practically radiating joy. She bounced on her toes, eyes gleaming as she admired her Knight grade hovering above the display. Beside her stood the enigmatic blonde-haired girl—the one with the piercing gray eyes—who seemed equally pleased with the same evaluation.

"Let's move on to the third challenge," the old officer announced, his voice cutting through the ambient murmurs. "It will be in another building this time. Follow me."

As the group began to move, Oliver took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger simmering within him. His head still throbbed, ears ringing slightly from the punch he'd received during the run. The injustice of it gnawed at him. Ever since his reawakening, he'd grappled with the prejudice against the Nameless, but he'd never expected to face such blatant hostility twice in one day.