Sylar's eyes widened as he finally understood what had happened. Only when the shockwave crashed into the far-distant wall of the fortress—cracking stone and sending debris scattering—did the reality of his strike reach him.
A deafening silence fell across the stronghold.
Every recruit stared at the young man in the center of the arena with a mixture of awe, fear, and utter confusion. None of them understood what they had just witnessed.
Truthfully, Sylar didn't either. The force behind that last blow felt… wrong. Not wrong in intention, but wrong in scale—something far beyond the limits of his Grade +3 body.
It didn't take long for his mind to latch onto the concept Captain Benjamin had taught him only days before, back on the starship.
"Logos." A solemn light flickered in Sylar's eyes as he whispered the word.
It had lasted only a heartbeat, and he was far from mastering it, yet for that single punch he had managed to channel the unique power born from the merging of two forces: the electromagnetic field of the mind and the chemical energy of the body—bound together by sheer will.
A power capable of letting him leap across the boundaries of strength and battle capability.
But before Sylar could examine the sensation more deeply, a wave of exhaustion slammed into him. It felt as though all the stamina in his body had been drained in an instant. His vision blurred, his knees trembled, and for a moment he nearly collapsed.
Fortunately, the weakness passed quickly. His strength began to return, slowly but steadily, enough for him to remain standing. He could not fall—not now. Falling meant losing the tournament.
With that reminder echoing through his thoughts, Sylar forced himself to focus and searched for Zendo. When he finally found him, his eyes widened again.
The young man was standing in midair—over a hundred meters (328 ft) above the arena.
"He can fly?" The first explanation that crossed Sylar's mind was psychic power. He had never seen anyone fly besides Xerxes, the True Apostle. But as he focused, he sensed clear signatures of biological energy.
"His bio-energy… it's transforming into a force field. A Genetic Ability." Surprise flashed across Sylar's face, followed by something else—something brighter.
A spark of desire. There was no ill intent in it, nor any wish to harm Zendo for the ability, but only a fool would pretend flying wasn't incredible.
It was as extraordinary as heat vision. More importantly, it was a gift on the battlefield: it opened entirely new strategies, angles of attack, and fields of movement.
Still, Sylar pushed those thoughts aside. They weren't important right now.
He began to consider his next move. He couldn't fly, and although he could jump hundreds of meters, launching himself into the air against an opponent who could maneuver freely in all directions would be suicide. He needed a plan—
But he didn't need to make one.
"Sylar wins!" Captain Lancel's voice echoed across the stronghold. A moment later, the familiar presence of the Nemesis System resonated in Sylar's mind.
[Quest #007: Win first place in the recruit tournament
Mission Grade: 3
Status: COMPLETED
Reward: 10,000 XP]
[You have reached Level 22 – 10 Free Points Available]
[You have reached Level 23 – 10 Free Points Available]
Sylar blinked, surprised. He had been so engrossed in the battle that he had completely forgotten the rule forbidding the use of Genetic Abilities.
As for Zendo, he descended slowly, landing lightly on the cracked arena floor. A complicated expression crossed his face before he sighed, lowering his head for a moment.
Then the young man looked at Sylar and smiled faintly. He clasped his hands together and nodded in acknowledgment.
Although it was annoying to lose in such a manner, he knew the truth: had he not leapt into the air at that exact moment, the punch might have shattered every bone in his body. Losing was the only fair outcome.
Sylar returned the gesture with a respectful clasp of his own. They had both fought with everything they had. There was no resentment between them—only respect, and a budding sense of brotherhood.
But not everyone shared that sentiment.
"Wait! He cheated!"
The shout came from a young man with bloody bandages wrapped around his forehead. Of course, it was Pierce—the same Pierce whose skull Sylar had nearly broken with a single blow earlier in the tournament.
The outcome of this match had nothing to do with him, and nothing he said would change his earlier defeat. But he could not tolerate seeing Sylar crowned champion.
"That strength was clearly something else!" Pierce shouted, pride and bitterness twisted his expression. "It must have been an ability!"
Immediately, the recruits began muttering among themselves. Even a fool could see the malice behind Pierce's accusation, yet that didn't change the fact that Sylar's final attack had looked unnaturally strong.
"This is the Star Crucible," Pierce continued, raising his voice even louder. "The supreme trial that determines who is worthy of walking the path of the Shooting Star! Anyone who can't honor it doesn't deserve to be among us!"
He tried to ignite the crowd, twisting righteousness and justice into tools for his bitterness.
Sylar's eyes grew cold. He did not appreciate being called a cheater. But he did not lose his composure. Instead, he glanced toward Zendo.
He owed nothing to Pierce—or to any of the spectators—but he respected Zendo. For his sake, he would offer clarification.
Before he could speak, however, Zendo stepped forward.
"If you have proof," Zendo said calmly, "then state it. Don't smear someone's name because of your jealousy."
Pierce froze, stunned by the direct accusation. He opened his mouth to protest, but Zendo didn't waste another second on him.
The young warrior simply looked down at his fists and clenched them tightly.
"I was defeated. So what?" he said quietly. "It's not the end of the world. It just means I need to improve. I need to keep pushing forward… and become better."
"Hahaha, no wonder you defeated me." Vorg approached the duo with a grin and stood shoulder to shoulder with Sylar. "If you don't fail, you don't learn. And if you don't learn, how can you evolve?"
Two more sets of footsteps echoed across the arena floor. Michael and Arthur appeared beside them, silent but resolute, each standing firmly with Sylar and Zendo.
Pierce, however, refused to back down.
"Even if you don't mind," he spat, "the rest of us might! Who knows how many times he used that power to gain an unfair advantage? We're talking about the honor of the Shooting Star!"
"Hmph. What do you know about our honor, boy?" Captain Lancel's voice cut through the stronghold like a blade, heavy with power and intent. Instantly, every recruit turned toward him. Silence fell.
The captain cast a single scornful glance at Pierce before shifting his attention to the five young men—Sylar, Zendo, Vorg, Michael, and Arthur. Then, to the shock of everyone watching, he smiled.
It really took them by surprise as up to this moment it was as if the old man was physically incapable of smiling.
"In this life," Captain Lancel began, his voice calm yet carrying immense weight, "you will face failure and loss beyond anything you can imagine. But you must never surrender. Never give up. Rise as many times as you fall."
"So even if you break," He continued, his eyes glowed with a fierce, unwavering light, a light that seemed to reach into the hearts of the five youths. "you will break in a blaze of glory—burning through the darkness with your light. Like a shooting star."
Sylar, Zendo, Vorg, Michael, and Arthur clenched their fists. Determination surged within them, their admiration for the old captain deepening. They could feel in his words the echoes of battles fought, comrades lost, and a spirit that refused to collapse under despair. This was a man worthy of respect.
After seeing the renewed fire in their eyes, Captain Lancel nodded once. His smile faded, replaced by his usual solemn expression as he faced the rest of the recruits.
"The power Sylar used is something that lies dormant inside every man and woman of humankind," he declared. "It awakens when mind, body, and will become one. If you wish to know more, finish the Star Crucible—you'll find your answers."
A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd. Curiosity replaced suspicion. The idea that Sylar had cheated vanished almost instantly—after all, the tournament only forbade Genetic Abilities, and if the power he used was something all humans possessed, then there was nothing unfair about it.
As for Pierce, the momentary attention he had gained dissipated completely. No one cared about his words anymore; even those who looked at him did so as one would look at a clown.
The humiliation twisted his expression, but he did not dare speak again. If he provoked Captain Lancel further, he might not survive the consequence.
Captain Lancel, uninterested in wasting time on someone he deemed unworthy, simply continued, his voice reaching every recruit. "So far, you have proven your mentality, endurance, physical ability, marksmanship, cold-weapon skills, toughness, and combat capability. Now, it is time for the last trial. If you surpass it, you will have survived the Star Crucible and begun your transformation into one of us."
Every recruit leaned forward, eyes glowing with anticipation.
"There is only one trial left," the captain said. "Shooting Stars enter every kind of battlefield. You must be prepared for any danger—no matter how strange or unpredictable."
He raised a hand as he pointed into the distance. "The final trial is called the Long Walk. It is simple: reach the opposite side of Akai in less than six months."
Gasps rippled through the stronghold.
Sylar's eyes widened. His body tensed.
Akai was a Death World—planets where life struggled to exist, where even natural phenomena could kill trained soldiers. Traversing it from one end to the other was enough to doom a careless Grade 2 lifeform. It was a land they knew nothing about, a world overflowing with predators, toxic landscapes, and unpredictable chaos.
A place where everything wanted you dead.
A place that would push every recruit to their limit.
"Each of you will receive a Dawnfire Hybrid Sidearm," Captain Lancel continued, "three magazines of ammunition, a grenade, a cold weapon, a map outlining basic geography, a compass, and rations lasting ten days."
Immediately, the other instructors began distributing heavy backpacks among the recruits.
"All who arrive before the six months are up will pass. You may travel as a team if you choose—there are no rules. However, the fastest among you will score higher. Remember: the Shooting Star Order is a meritocracy. The better you perform, the greater the resources and weapons you will be granted."
Traveling as a group meant moving slower, but many recruits accepted the idea immediately. Cooperation drastically increased the chance of survival.
Sylar, Zendo, Vorg, Michael, and Arthur exchanged glances. Then they smiled and, without speaking, split apart.
This was a competition—each of them would do everything in their power to be the first to cross Akai.
"Those who fail to arrive after six months… we will use the trackers in your weapons to locate you."
Although the words sounded caring, every recruit knew the truth: what the captain truly cared about were the weapons. Each piece of Dawnfire tech was incredibly valuable. Allowing them to be lost on a Death World was unacceptable.
With everything prepared, the recruits marched out of the stronghold in orderly fashion according to ranking.
Naturally, Sylar was the first to step into the world.
He didn't look back. His eyes were sharp, fixed forward with unwavering resolve as he began descending the massive mountain. Using his combat knife as leverage, he carved footholds into the stone and made his way down.
Danger awaited him—countless dangers.
But so did opportunity.
A chance to grow stronger.
A chance to evolve.
A chance… to rise.
A chance to level up.