I stayed in my room longer than usual.
The house was quiet again. My laptop sat open on the desk, application tabs still lined up across the screen, untouched since I'd last reviewed them.
I wasn't tired. Not really. My head still carried a faint ache, but it no longer demanded attention. It was distant, rather than directly painful.
A notification chimed.
I glanced down at my phone, expecting nothing in particular—news, maybe, or another automated update from the marketplace.
The sender wasn't familiar.
[Academy Outreach Division — Priority Message]
I frowned and opened it.
The message was brief.
Mr. Johnson,
We have reviewed a recent incident report and associated Archive data tied to your name.
Based on this, we would like to extend an invitation for a voluntary capability assessment at one of our affiliated evaluation centers.
Attendance is optional and will not negatively impact any existing applications.
Location and time are listed below.
I read it twice, just to be sure.
This wasn't one of the academies I'd applied to. I was certain of that. I'd checked and double-checked my submissions over the past hour, weighing each choice carefully, trimming anything too optimistic.
This academy hadn't been on the list.
I tapped the attached credentials and let the verification run. The system responded almost immediately.
Verified.
I leaned back in my chair.
So this was real.
I scrolled through the academy's profile. It was an elite institution, and not just in name alone, but in reputation.
Their graduates didn't struggle to find placements. They were recruited, fast-tracked, and the elites of society.
And they were reaching out to me.
The message was careful not to promise anything. Just an invitation to test.
I checked the address.
It was close, a testing center nearby.
I sat there for a moment longer, weighing my choices. I didn't need to go. The message made that clear. But accepting wouldn't hurt me.
I closed the laptop and stood.
Downstairs, my mother was moving around the living room.
"I'm heading out," I said.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Where to?"
"Testing center," I replied. "An academy reached out."
That got her full attention.
She turned, turning off the TV. "One you applied to?"
"No," I said. "They contacted me directly."
She studied my face for a moment, searching for hesitation or doubt. Whatever she saw, it seemed to be enough.
"Will it take long?" she asked.
"I don't think so."
She nodded slowly. "Be careful."
"I will."
I booked a taxi from my phone and paid automatically when it arrived; the credit transfer happened so smoothly it barely registered in my mind.
The driver didn't ask questions. The route displayed itself on the dashboard, and we pulled away from the curb.
The ride was quiet.
I watched the city pass by through the window. It looked ordinary. Same buildings, same streets. Nothing about it suggested scripts, or rifts, or anything out of the ordinary.
We stopped in front of a low, wide structure set back from the road.
The exterior was plain—concrete, glass, minimal signage. It looked more like a sports complex than anything academic.
I stepped out and thanked the driver, then walked toward the entrance.
A security gate scanned me as I approached. A guard stood to the side, posture relaxed but attentive.
"Name?" he asked.
"Elias Johnson."
He checked a screen, paused briefly, then nodded. "You're cleared. Go on in."
The doors slid open.
Inside, the space expanded dramatically. The gymnasium stretched far beyond what the exterior suggested, ceiling high, floor reinforced, divided into multiple testing zones by subtle markings and barriers.
Teenagers were scattered throughout the space, each paired with an instructor. Some stood beside summoned creatures of all sorts. Others held items or constructs, waiting for instructions.
This clearly wasn't just an exam hall. It was a proving ground.
I hesitated just inside the entrance, unsure where to go.
Then someone waved.
A woman stood a short distance away, one hand raised casually, already walking toward me.
"You must be Elias," she said as she reached me. Her tone was warm and gentle. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."
She smiled, then added, almost apologetically, "I know this was sudden."
I nodded. "It was unexpected."
She laughed lightly. "That's fair. Things change quickly around here."
She gestured toward the testing floor. "Let's talk over there."
I followed her.
We walked side by side across the edge of the gymnasium.
Up close, the scale of the place was clearer.
The floor wasn't just reinforced—it had been layered, faint seams visible where different materials met.
Some zones were scarred. Others looked freshly reset.
"My name's Mara," the woman said. "I oversee intake assessments."
She didn't offer a last name, which felt oddly intentional.
"I should apologize," she went on. "You weren't on today's schedule originally."
I glanced at her. "Then why am I here?"
She smiled, a small one. "A few candidates withdrew this morning. Last-minute decisions. It happens more often than you'd think."
"Why withdraw?"
"Options," she said simply. "Families with plenty of resources like them don't like committing too early. Especially when they can shop around."
We stopped near one of the marked zones, this one empty for the moment. A few instructors watched from a distance, not obviously paying attention, but not ignoring us either.
"When a slot opened," Mara continued, "we ran a quick sweep for replacements. Your file came up."
"My file," I repeated, an eyebrow raised.
She nodded. "Gray-quality first script. An emergency deployment incident happened yesterday." She glanced at me sideways. "That narrows the list quickly."
I didn't respond. There wasn't much to say.
Mara turned to face me. "Before we begin, tell me about your script."
"Creature-type," I said. "Brawler class. F-tier base."
She took a step back, giving us space. "May I test it?"
"That's why I'm here," I said.
"Good." She lifted a hand slightly. "Summon when ready."
I focused inward.
The Archive responded with a familiar pull. I kept my breathing steady and let the summoning complete.
Baki emerged a few paces ahead of me, bare feet touching the floor without sound. He didn't look around immediately. He stood as if he already knew where he was.
Mara's gaze flicked to him, then back to me. "Interesting posture," she murmured.
She raised her own hand.
A translucent mass spilled into the air beside her, swelling rapidly before settling into a defined shape.
Limbs formed last, thick and rounded. The creature finished shaping itself into something like a bear, though its surface remained glossy and semi-gelatinous.
A slime construct.
It shifted its weight, testing itself, then stilled.
"Strike it when ready," Mara said, calm. "Full power."
Baki turned his head slightly, eyes finding me.
I met his gaze and nodded once.
He moved.
The strike was direct. His fist drove into the creature's torso with a sound like crippling concrete, the impact compressing the slime inward before it rebounded, absorbing the force and sliding back half a step.
But the construct held.
Baki withdrew his hand and flexed his fingers once, as if assessing resistance.
"Interesting, it looks soft, but its skin is dense," he said.
Mara's eyes flicked to the slime, then back to Baki. She nodded, not to either of us in particular, though.
"Now try your fastest strike," she said next.
With a shrug, Baki followed.
He stepped in and snapped his arm forward. The motion was almost invisible. The air cracked softly, and the slime's surface rippled from the point of contact, a delayed wave following the strike.
Mara exhaled through her nose. Satisfied.
"That'll do," she said. "You can dismiss him."
I focused inward again.
Baki glanced back at me, then at Mara. He lifted one hand in a brief, casual wave before dissolving into the pull of the Archive.
Mara turned to me. "That's a good first script," she said. "Especially given your background."
"Background?"
"Normal household," she replied. "No prior training, or any real resources. Most candidates like you don't even attempt something like that."
I didn't comment.
She folded her arms loosely. "We'll keep in touch. You'll likely hear from us soon."
"You sure?" I said, a confident smile on my face.
She smiled back. "Do you want to be accepted?"
"Yes," I said.
"Why?"
I didn't answer immediately.
"I want access," I said finally. "To knowledge. Plus, it'll make a more believable story once I succeed."
She studied me, then nodded slowly with a smirk. "It won't be easy. Influence matters more than talent, most days."
"I know."
Her smile faded away as she extended a hand. "Then we'll see what happens."
I shook it.
She stepped away, already turning back toward the testing floor. I headed for the exit, the noise of the gymnasium fading as I moved.
Near the entrance, another teenager was walking in.
Someone called out from behind me.
"Elias?"
I paused.