"Is that... Monroe?" Blair’s voice carried across the grass.
Hikaru gave her a single bored nod.
Charles’s face went through a fascinating journey. Amusent first, then total confusion, then sothing close to rage.
Belle lost it beside . "Her face! Oh my god, her face!"
"Yeah, that’s pretty good," Jordan said, managing an actual smile.
"Alright, enough," Misato cut in. "We should warm up before—"
"ATTENTION FIRST YEARS!" Garrett’s voice crashed over the field like thunder. "LINE UP BY HOUSE!"
"Well, shit," Naomi muttered.
Professor Garrett marched onto the grass like he was about to lead an invasion. The man was built like a truck that hit the gym. His black academy t-shirt with the Obsidian crest stretched tight over slabs of muscle. Tactical pants and combat boots finished off the whole military vibe. His buzz cut and permanent scowl said he didn’t give a single fuck about your feelings.
We scrambled to form sothing resembling a line. About forty Obsidian first-years total, most of them looking nervous. Garrett walked up and down our ranks, sizing us up like livestock at an auction.
"Pathetic," he announced. "Half of you look like you couldn’t run a mile without vomiting. The other half look like you’d vomit and then lie about it."
A few nervous laughs.
"Shut up. I didn’t tell a joke." His gray eyes swept over us. "Physical conditioning separates hunters who live from hunters who die screaming in a D-rank gate. Your abilities won’t save you if your body fails. You understand?"
"Yes, Professor," we chorused.
"I CAN’T HEAR YOU!"
"YES, PROFESSOR!"
"Better." He crossed his arms. "Today’s endurance benchmark determines who has what it takes to survive. Top 10% earn privileges. Bottom 10% earn bonus training sessions with ."
The field went dead silent. Nobody wanted that.
"First test," Garrett continued. "One mile. Four laps around this track. Obsidian goes first."
We shuffled to the starting line. I positioned myself in the middle of the pack where I wouldn’t stand out. Blair ended up near the front, still stealing glances back at like I’d grown a second head.
Garrett pulled out a whistle. "On my mark... BEGIN!"
The shriek split the air and we exploded forward.
The first lap was easy. Everyone started too fast, adrenaline and competition driving them forward. I maintained a steady pace, conserving energy. Belle sprinted ahead with the frontrunners, her competitive nature overriding common sense. Jordan and Naomi paced themselves just ahead of .
By the second lap, the pack had spread out. The truly athletic students pulled ahead while the weaker ones fell behind. Blair ran with perfect form, her red hair tied back in a ponytail that swung with each stride. Hikaru kept pace with her, looking completely comfortable.
I felt good. Really good. My breathing remained steady, legs pumping without strain. The C-rank strength combined with nearly D-rank endurance made this almost... enjoyable?
Third lap. People started fading. Heavy breathing and cursing filled the air. I passed several students who had burned out too quickly. Blair and Hikaru still led the pack, but I was gaining on them.
"Pick it up, Monroe!" Garrett shouted as I passed. "You’re sandbagging!"
He was right. I had been holding back. So I listened and accelerated.
My legs responded instantly, eating up distance. I passed Jordan, who gave a surprised look. Then Naomi, who smiled encouragingly. Then the gap between and the leaders closed rapidly.
Blair glanced back, her eyes widening when she saw approaching. She tried to speed up, but it was too late in the race. Her form was deteriorating.
I pulled even with her on the final turn. "Morning."
She gasped, unable to respond through her heavy breathing.
I winked and pushed ahead, crossing the finish line in third place, right behind Hikaru.
Garrett looked at his stopwatch, then at , his eyebrows rising slightly. "Five minutes forty-seven seconds, Monroe. Not bad."
Not bad indeed. My previous mile ti had been over eight minutes.
Blair staggered across the finish line two seconds later, bent over with hands on her knees, gasping for air. She glared at with a mixture of shock, rage, and sothing else I couldn’t identify.
"What... the fuck... happened to you?" she wheezed.
I shrugged. "Training."
"Bullshit."
"Language, Davenport," Garrett barked. "Save your breath for the next test."
Naomi jogged in at six minutes twelve seconds, grinning when she saw . Belle finished just behind her, looking annoyed that I’d beaten her.
"Since when are you faster than ?" she demanded.
"Since right now, apparently."
"Cheater. You used Wave Motion."
"Nope. Just legs."
Jordan finished last in our group, though still in the top half overall. He collapsed onto the grass, dramatically sprawled like a cri scene outline.
"I hate everything," he announced to the sky.
"Second test in fifteen minutes!" Garrett shouted. "Hydrate and recover!"
I grabbed a water bottle from the cooler and chugged half of it. My legs felt fine – barely even warm. The stats upgrade was no joke.
Blair kept staring at from across the field, whispering furiously to Hikaru. Charles looked like soone had pissed in his protein shake.
Naomi appeared at my side. "You were holding back," she said quietly.
"Maybe a little."
"Why?"
"Don’t want to draw too much attention."
"Too late for that." She nodded toward Blair. "You’ve got her complete attention now."
"Not what I wanted."
"Too bad." Naomi’s eyes sparkled with amusent. "You can’t just transform from chunky to hunky and expect no one to notice."
"Chunky to hunky? Did you just—"
"I’ve been saving that one." She grinned. "Accurate though."
"I wasn’t that chunky."
"You were adorably chunky. Now you’re dangerously hot. Deal with it."
Before I could respond, Garrett’s whistle blew again.
"Pull-up test! Maximum repetitions in two minutes!"
We gathered around the pull-up bars. There were ten stations, which ant we’d go in groups. The first group stepped up – mostly guys who looked confident about upper body strength. Charles was among them, cracking his knuckles and smirking.
"Begin!"
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