anwhile, high above the field in the private viewing room, Dean Sanchez stood nervously in front of the large windows that overlooked the entire stadium. His brow was slick with sweat as he fumbled with his phone, trying once again to reach Miss Claire.
The excitent of the event outside seed to contrast sharply with his anxious mood. Finally, when the call connected, his face lit up with visible relief. 'Yes!' He thought, holding back the urge to scream in joy as he moved away from the viewing window why trying to sound calm, "Uh yes, hello Miss Claire…."
———
Down on the field, the stadium was packed with spectators, all buzzing with excitent as the batch of promising students entered for their evaluations. Fans waved banners, and the deafening cheers echoed through the stadium, creating an almost feverish energy. The candidates lined up, each eager to showcase their abilities.
Up in the comntator's booth, two announcers were broadcasting the event live to viewers across the country. One of them, a man with slicked-back hair and a confident tone, was midway through his analysis of the current batch of students.
"And here we have another promising group of candidates from our city' Elite Hero Program," he said, his voice ringing with excitent. "Of course, all eyes were supposed to be on Starboy today, but things have... shifted in a rather unexpected way since—"
Before he could finish, a man wearing an earpiece rushed up to the booth and leaned down to whisper sothing urgent into his ear. The comntator's face tensed montarily before he cleared his throat and quickly adjusted his posture.
"Anyway," he continued, regaining his composure, "moving on to the introductions…"
His co-host, a woman with short-cropped hair and a more relaxed tone, chuckled slightly. "You know, there's always so unexpected drama during these events, but this year is sothing else entirely."
Below them, the students took their places on the field, with each one stepping forward as their nas were announced. The crowd responded with a mix of cheers and murmurs, sizing up each candidate as they walked toward the evaluation equipnt.
"Alright, folks, buckle up," the first comntator began, his voice booming. "We've got a real lineup of talent coming up next! Leading the charge is Thunderclap, son of the legendary Thunderstrike! This guy is all about power!"
The cara zood in on Thunderclap as he strode confidently across the field, his muscular fra exuding brute strength. His dark blue suit was sleeveless, showing off his thick, powerful arms, and a thunderbolt symbol stretched across his chest.
His short, spiky black hair gave him a fierce look, and his intense eyes glead with pride as he raised his hand to the crowd.
"Thunderclap has an A-grade in strength, folks," the second comntator chid in, her voice filled with admiration. "That's no joke. And those B-grade sonic shockwaves of his? He's capable of generating concussive blasts with just a clap."
"Exactly," the first comntator agreed with a laugh. "He's like a walking earthquake. Don't forget, this kid stopped that bridge collapse last year with those very shockwaves. Stabilized the whole structure. Not to ntion his involvent in taking down villain gangs alongside his father. A true powerhouse!"
The crowd cheered as Thunderclap reached his position, his large hands casually flexing as he prepared for his evaluation.
The cara then panned to the next student, Silverwing, as he gracefully entered the field.
Silverwing was lean and athletic, his tight silver-and-blue suit fitting him like a second skin, designed for maximum aerodynamics. His long silver hair flowed behind him as he walked, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with confidence.
The silver wings that sprouted from his back shimred in the sunlight, a perfect blend of aesthetics and function.
"Ah, here cos Silverwing," the second comntator said, hes voice full of excitent. "Son of The Silver Guardian! Known for his speed and flight."
"An A-grade in flight and B-grade speed," the first comntator added. "He's the definition of precision in the air. Rember that ti he intercepted the terrorist bomb mid-air? He took it out of the city and detonated it safely. Unbelievable aerial skills."
The crowd responded with a wave of applause as Silverwing gave a cool nod and positioned himself, wings flexing slightly as if ready to take off at any mont.
Next, the cara focused on Phantomstrike as he made his entrance. Unlike the others, Phantomstrike moved like a shadow, his dark costu blending into the shadows around him.
His hood was pulled low over his face, but his piercing gray eyes were visible, scanning the field with calculated precision. His black and dark gray armor clung to his slender, agile fra, and the dark tendrils of his cape shifted with each step, adding to his mysterious aura.
"And there's Phantomstrike," the first comntator noted. "Son of The Night Phantom. You might not even see him coming, folks. With B-grade stealth and agility, this guy's all about strategy and silence."
"That's right," the second comntator agreed. "He's the guy who operates in the shadows. And don't underestimate him just because he's quiet—he's got short-range energy projection up his sleeve too, and with his C-grade in that, he can strike when you least expect it."
The crowd watched in awe as Phantomstrike almost seed to vanish into the shadows of the stadium, his dark figure blending in until he reappeared near his position.
The air grew noticeably colder as the next student, Frostbite, made her way onto the field.
Her icy blue suit hugged her athletic figure, and the intricate frost patterns across her arms and legs seed to shimr like they were alive.
Her white hair, cut short in a bob, contrasted sharply with her fair skin, and her piercing blue eyes gave her an almost otherworldly look. A subtle mist of cold air followed her every step, and her breath ca out in visible puffs as the temperature around her dropped.
"Now here's a real showstopper—Frostbite!" the first comntator exclaid, his voice rising. "She's been making waves, and not just because of her frosty powers."
The cara zood in on her face as she approached the field, her expression calm and composed.
"Daughter of notorious supervillains, but don't let that fool you," the second comntator added quickly. "This girl's got an A-grade in frost manipulation. She can freeze just about anything—and with B-grade ice armor and cryo-kinesis speed, she's as fast as she is durable."
"And let's not forget the ti she stopped that bank heist by freezing the getaway cars," the first comntator said. "She had the whole thing wrapped up before the cops even showed up."
Frostbite reached her position and crossed her arms, her icy presence enough to keep the crowd's attention as they marveled at her control over her powers.
The excitent in the stadium built up to a fever pitch as the last student stepped forward, hovering just slightly above the ground.
The golden shimr of his suit caught the sunlight, creating a radiant glow around him as he floated toward the center of the field.
His suit was form-fitting, adorned with a large star emblem on his chest—a clear nod to his father's legacy. His blonde hair, styled perfectly, glistened in the light, and his confident smile never wavered as he waved to the crowd.
"And now, the one you've all been waiting for—Starboy!" the first comntator nearly shouted, barely able to contain his excitent.
"Son of Starman, one of the most iconic heroes in history," the second comntator added. "With a B-grade in strength, durability, and speed—though his durability jumps to A at night—and don't forget, he's got flight. The complete package."
Starboy landed softly on the field, his cape fluttering dramatically behind him as he took his place, the crowd's cheers reaching a deafening level. His blue eyes scanned the stadium, his smile widening as he basked in the adoration.
"Let's not forget his track record," the first comntator continued. "Starboy's already been involved in high-profile missions, including last year's villain breakout. And his heroic skyscraper rescue that earned him his hero license at just sixteen. Talk about following in your father's footsteps!"
As Starboy waved to the crowd, the cara zood in on his face, catching every bit of the pride that radiated from him. The energy in the stadium was almost tangible, with fans chanting his na, eager to see what he would do next.
But just as the comntators prepared to continue, a man wearing an earpiece rushed up to the booth again and whispered sothing into one of the comntator's ears. The comntator's face montarily stiffened as he listened, then he quickly cleared his throat and straightened in his seat.
"Anyway," he said, brushing off the mont of hesitation, "it seems we have a late surprise entry folks…"
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