Standing atop the stage, Kenji felt sweat bead down the side of his face. The stares burned holes through his composure. The pressure was suffocating, an invisible weight pressing on his chest.
Across from him stood Shō and Anselm Grimmel, both unreadable. Shō's usual calm held something sharper now, quiet scrutiny hidden behind faint detachment, while the Iron Talon's mask gave nothing away. His stillness was unnerving. Even his breathing seemed deliberate.
Kenji swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus.
He could lie. He might be able to lie. But what if they could sense anomalies through those systems of theirs? What if a metaphysical reading betrayed him the moment he spoke?
The thought gnawed at him, but before he could spiral—
"Name."
The command snapped through the silence like a blade.
Kenji's body reacted before his mind caught up.
"Kenji Hakurou, sir!"
Anselm gave a curt nod. "State your [Gift]."
Kenji's mind blanked for a heartbeat. His mouth opened, then closed again. Which one should he choose? Subjective Law sounded too absolute, too dangerous. But Endless Chains? That one seemed safer. A lot more contained and understandable.
He took a breath, steadying himself.
"My [Gift] is called..."
He pondered, thought about it hard before ultimately answering.
"Endless Chains, sir."
There was a pregnant pause.
Anselm tilted his head slightly, as if measuring the truth in the name. Shō's gaze flickered toward Kenji. His gaze was unreadable, but distinctly interested.
"Describe it," Anselm said.
Kenji's heart hammered. He wasn't entirely sure how to put the system into words. He could recite it the way the system did, an extension of an existing ability. But he'd rather not let them know that he could shift reality to a base level.
And so he decided to use the layman's terms Corswain used to explain the system. It wasn't entirely a lie to describe it in this manner.
"It allows me to manifest... bindings," he began, choosing each word with care. "Chains that can restrict the movement or abilities of anything they touch. I can will them to appear where I focus, and I can apply any property to these chains as I please."
Another silence followed. The only sound came from the faint hum of the scanning drones circling above him.
"Demonstrate." Came the inevitable order.
Kenji hesitated, then forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Y-Yes, sir."
He lifted his hand, calling to the energy buried deep inside. A faint orange flicker ran across his left eye, like embers behind broken glass.
————————
[Subjective Law: Subroutine – Endless Chains]
[Intent Detected. Manifestation: Partial Materialization.]
————————
The air rippled. Thin, spectral chains slithered from the space around his outstretched hand. It was colored orange, near-translucent, and humming faintly like a distant bell. They didn't rattle; instead, the sound was felt rather than heard.
They wrapped around a nearby training dummy. It wasn't tight, but firm enough that the metal groaned in protest. Then Kenji activated the Law he had etched into the chains.
————————
[Subjective Law — Endless Chain Subroutine: All bound within these chains shall reduce to naught but ash.]
————————
The dummy began to disintegrate. Not burn, but dissolve. It collapsed into a drifting cloud of pale ash. The particles scattered into the air, flickering briefly under the ceiling lights before fading.
Gasps rippled through the audience. The recruits stared, mesmerized and uneasy at once, watching as the last of the dummy vanished.
Erhardt clapped softly from the sidelines.
"Impressive!" he declared, eyes gleaming as drones buzzed to life around him. "Residual ash indicates no burns. The entire dummy broke apart at an almost atomic level. Fascinating!"
He leaned forward slightly, voice brimming with awe. "Subjective logic seems to have prevented an atomic split, avoiding a chain reaction. Remarkable! These chains are far more refined than I anticipated."
Anselm remained silent. His gaze locked with Kenji through the narrow slits of his helm, and a single, unblinking eye stared back. Without a word, he rested a gauntleted hand on the hilt of his blade and drew. The metallic hiss of the black sword tore through the air, its presence warping the space around him like heat-bending light. Kenji couldn't help but stare.
"Your chains are useful," Anselm said evenly, his tone as cold as tempered steel. "And that look in your eyes tells me this isn't your first battle. You've used them before, and that application is too refined to be your first attempt."
He raised his sword.
"As such, I'll test you properly."
Before Kenji could react, Anselm vanished. He was a blur, faster than his eyes could follow. Instinct screamed, and Kenji yanked his chains taut, intercepting the incoming strike. The spectral links glowed, the subroutine flaring to life, ready to dissolve whatever they touched.
But when the chain met the blade—
————————
[Warning: Black Blade Anchored to Reality. Resisting Subjective Law. Disengaging.]
————————
The clash rang like thunder. Sparks, both metal and metaphysical, burst into the air as the orange chains recoiled. The metaphysical metal flickering under the crushing weight of a will stronger than his own.
Kenji's breath hitched. The chains around his arm shuddered under the strain. His [Gift] held for a moment before the pressure grew unbearable. The sound of steel grinding against steel filled the hall, and still, Anselm didn't move an inch.
"Ah, so your [Gift] can't influence everything," Anselm said, voice smooth as carved obsidian. Not gloating, just stating a fact. "For a moment, I was worried I'd have to replace my beloved Black Blade."
Kenji's heart pounded against his ribs. His hands trembled. The man wasn't even trying. Every motion Anselm made felt deliberate, refined. It was the kind of control that came from decades of battle. He was just testing him.
The chains began to falter, their glow dimming under the weight of Anselm's blade. Kenji pulled harder, teeth grinding as he tried to force the world to bend to his will.
Nothing.
Anselm's voice rose, cold and commanding.
"Listen well. Your [Gifts] are strong. The powers you've been granted may feel omnipotent. But they are not."
The man pressed forward, and Kenji stumbled back, his sneakers scraping against the steel floor. Sparks danced where the chains met the black blade.
"You stand above the mundane world," Anselm continued, each word carrying the authority of a verdict, "but you are still at the foot of the one below it. In that darkness, you will learn. There are things beyond human reason. Beyond any law you try to impose."
Kenji blinked, and the world blurred. A rush of black motion, a sound like thunder, and cold metal kissed the skin of his throat.
His breath froze.
Anselm was standing right in front of him now, and Kenji felt the cold press of his blade biting against skin. No transition, no warning, just there. His visible eye burned with quiet certainty through the narrow slit of his helm.
"You are not invincible," he said, voice low but heavy enough to crush the silence. "There are beings that will not obey your laws, no matter how absolute you believe them to be. Your powers are a tool, not the solution. Your wit, your instincts, your flesh and bone, those are what will keep you alive."
Kenji dared not move. The blade lingered at his throat like a reminder of just how far below the peak he still stood.
Then, Anselm pulled away.
Kenji exhaled, only then realizing he'd been holding his breath. The cold edge at his throat left behind a phantom sting. It was a reminder that Anselm could've ended him in a heartbeat. The black blade slid back with a metallic whisper, embedding itself into the steel floor like it weighed more than it should.
Anselm's single visible eye locked onto him once more. His tone was measured, almost detached, like a surgeon assessing a patient rather than a soldier addressing a subordinate.
"Your instincts are commendable," he said. "But you lack refinement. Your brother ranks among the best in martial capability. I'd place him as a contestable second within this facility. Learn from him. Swinging a bat around on raw instinct will only carry you so far."
Kenji swallowed hard. The words stung, but they were true. Worse, they were fair.
Anselm turned from him, the weight of his authority cutting through the hum of the drones still recording the aftermath.
"Step down, Kenji. Your assessment is complete."
Kenji nodded silently. The chains dissolved into fading motes of orange light, and he stepped back down from the stage, his heartbeat still echoing in his ears. Every step away from Anselm felt heavier than the last, not from fear, but from the realization of just how small his power seemed against someone like him.
Shō met his gaze as he returned to his place. He didn't say a word, but that quiet look told Kenji enough. For all his faults, Shō wanted him to live. He would train the boy, he had to. Shō's expertise lay in hand-to-hand combat, though he was no stranger to a sword.
As for Kenji, a venom brewed in his thoughts. Not toward Anselm, but toward himself. He had buckled before a mortal man, even after slaying multiple anomalies. His earlier assessment was right, he had only faced the lower tiers of his profession, if he had to frame it in game terms.
Still, this wasn't the end. No, it was good to know where he stood in the hierarchy. Now he could refine [Subjective Law].
————————
[Error: Realspace Coordinates Rebooting...]
————————
Kenji blinked at the sudden flicker of text in his mind. He turned his head and found Yeon sitting beside him, concern lining her face.
"Uh—" he started. "Hey, what's up?"
"You alright?" she asked. "Iron Mask over there didn't go easy on you."
Kenji snorted, letting out a tired sigh as he leaned back in his seat. "Oh, he did. If he hadn't, I'd be dead."
The man was fast, faster than even Shō during that simulation. He should have expected it. Anselm Grimmel and that other man, Yuri, fought like blurs until his system had recalibrated his senses enough for him to see. Even then, Anselm still moved like a blur.
But what good was seeing when your body couldn't keep up?
Yeon snorted too, then laughed. "True enough."
Yeon's laugh was light, almost a relief after the crushing tension that had filled the hall. Kenji cracked one eye open, half expecting someone like Anselm to bark at them for talking. But the Iron Talon was already focused on the next recruit, his attention sharp and unwavering.
Kenji exhaled, letting his pulse settle. The faint hum of the systems in his head lingered like static, the glitchy orange text still flickering behind his eyelids.
"Yeah," he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Guy's a monster. But I guess that's what it takes to be Avis Ferrea."
Yeon leaned back against the bench, folding her arms. "You're not wrong. Still, for what it's worth, that was impressive. Those chains, and that disintegration trick? You scared half the room."
Kenji gave a dry chuckle. "Including myself."
Yeon tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Still breathing, though. That's a win in my book."
"Barely," Kenji said, looking down at his hands. They still trembled faintly, not from fear, at least not anymore, but from adrenaline and something deeper. He liked to think that it was determination.
He clenched them into fists. "Next time, I'll do better."
Yeon glanced at him, her expression softening. "You sound like my old instructor."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she said. "He's dead."
Kenji blinked, unsure if he should laugh or apologize. Yeon didn't seem bothered, though. Her grin was crooked, wry.
He sighed. "Noted. I'll, uh… avoid ending up like that."
"You do that," she said, crossing one leg over the other as the next recruit stepped onto the stage.
Kenji leaned back again, eyes half-lidded as the hum of the hall filled the air. His heart had steadied, but that sting of inadequacy still lingered beneath his ribs, a reminder that for all his newfound power, he was still a long way from standing among monsters like them.
And for the first time in a long while, that thought didn't crush him.
As Kenji glanced up at the next recruit, his curiosity piqued. He leaned forward, one leg crossing over the other as Aiden stepped onto the stage.
The boy carried a metal blade taken from one of the nearby racks, likely dulled for training, though its faint glint suggested it wasn't harmless. Leather gauntlets wrapped his wrists, and he held the blade loosely at his side, pointing down, posture relaxed yet deliberate.
"Name," Anselm Grimmel commanded.
"Aiden de Châteaunoir, Knight Errant."
...
'What the fuck?' Kenji thought, blinking once, then twice.