With that, most of the contestants struggle to get up and begin their run—but calling it a run is generous. Every step is a fight: balance, breath, footwork… all under the crushing weight of the imposed gravity. Many don't even make it a few strides before collapsing again, realizing how naïve it was to think they could just "start running."
Rachel and Terra move side by side, walking more than anything, slowly adjusting though the pressure refuses to let up."What kind of test do you think Naemor is doing right now?" Rachel asks between breaths."Since he's already past Tier 1… maybe even Tier 2, he probably has mana. They're most likely measuring how much.""It sounds reasonable."
Then snickering cuts through their conversation. Terra halts and snaps her head back."What's so funny?"
One of the girls from the mysterious backgrounds—the ones raised in families Rachel still can't understand—arches a brow."Strictly speaking, the amount of mana someone has matters. But what matters more is its density. A mortal like you wouldn't know something like that."
Rachel intervenes before the tension boils over."Aren't we all going to be part of the same company? Why are we starting fights already?"
The girl sneers."It's our families who will fight when the resurgence happens. They'll be the ones laying their lives down so you mortals can stand again. And look—" she gestures around them, "even with rising ambient mana, there are barely any of you this year. You—"
She's cut off by the boy beside her."Just complete the mission. Don't bother them, and they won't bother us."
With that decree, they move on. Yet Rachel can't let go of the half-spoken truth."What do you think she meant by laying down their lives? Who's coming to kill us?"Terra lifts a shoulder."I live with them, but only in whatever room they assign me. They don't talk around me. If I see anything, it's them staring at their stone tablets. I don't know anything.""Huh… curious."
They keep walking, seemingly endlessly. But as time passes, something changes. The mysterious-background kids begin jogging, some even running—despite the gravity still pressing down. Meanwhile, Rachel and Terra are barely finishing their second lap.
What changed? They were all struggling just moments ago.
Terra, too, looks different—more centered, less breathless."Terra… why do you look better now than when we started?""I don't know. I'm asking myself the same thing. If anything…" She presses a hand lightly to her chest. "It feels like energy is rising from the ground with every step. The feeling keeps getting clearer. Do you feel anything?""No. Nothing." Rachel glances down at the ground as if expecting an answer.
Terra shrugs."Well… I feel it."
Rachel wipes sweat from her face and looks ahead, forcing herself to observe the others. What are they doing differently?
Another quarter mile passes. Rachel's legs buckle, and she falls to her knees. She can't even lift herself.Terra rushes back."Stella, we still have three miles left. You can't stop here.""I can't…" Rachel gasps, vision swimming. "I can barely breathe…"
As more contestants pass, some smiling at her collapse, the boy from earlier slows down."This isn't like the entrance exam," he says. "You can fail here and be fine. This is training."
The words sink deep—tempting.He's right… this is training. I've reached my limit. It's fine to stop—
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!Her own voice in her head snaps her back.What happened to keeping up with Stella? To not being left behind?
Rachel pushes against the ground, forcing herself upright."I'm sorry," she says through clenched teeth. "I can't do that. I have to finish. Or at least fall trying."
The boy looks genuinely surprised before sighing and stepping behind her. His hand presses between her shoulder blades."What are you—""Shut up and focus. Feel the flow of energy. Match your breathing to it."
A soft glow radiates from his palm, and Rachel feels a warm wave surge through her body. Her breaths instinctively sync with the rhythm he's guiding. Her limbs loosen. Her senses open.
When she turns, he's sweating more than before."What was that? And are you okay?""Body tempering is meant to teach your body how to handle mana. To do what I just did… I had to guide the energy gently enough that it didn't backlash and kill you. It takes a toll, but I'll live." He wipes his forehead. "And I taught you a simple breathing method. It'll let you absorb more energy and push farther. I want to see how far a mortal can go. So don't give up. Otherwise I wasted my time."
He jogs off without looking back.
Terra watches him disappear before asking,"How do you feel?"Rachel exhales, still stunned."Better… much better. But when he was guiding that energy, it felt like…" She hesitates. "Like I was back home. Familiar. Like something I've known my whole life but forgot until now."Terra nods."That's exactly how the energy I was talking about feels. Natural. Like a limb you never knew you had."
Rachel stares ahead—the boy already a distant silhouette."Let's keep going before we fall even further behind."
In the Observation Room
The guide sat in a low-backed chair before a wall of shimmering screens, each one displaying a different angle of the training field below. Her fingers rested lightly on the armrest, yet her eyes were sharp as blades.
"I suspected it from her file," she murmured, leaning closer, "but seeing it in person… marvelous. There aren't many Touched in our ranks anymore. She'll be difficult to teach. Hopefully, when the resurgence begins, the realms will be close enough for her to hear them."
A ripple of darkness stretched across the room, and a man cloaked in shadow stepped out of it.
"How are the mortals this round?" he asked, voice flat.
"They're as most mortals are," she answered calmly. "Slow to acclimate. They're still walking, barely any change. A few are mimicking the hidden families, but most can't figure it out."
"That is none of our concern," he replied. "If they cannot adapt, they do not deserve to be here. Keep me updated."
He dissolved back into the darkness.
The guide exhaled. "I hope they improve, and fast."
From the far edge of the room came a sharp, derisive breath.
"Is it truly productive," Saevra sneered, arms crossed, "for us to sit here watching them run in circles? We should be training."
The guide turned her head slowly. "Excuse me if I need time to figure out what to do with two Peak Tier Two children while still doing the rest of my duties."
Saevra's aura flared—cold, murderous. But before the pressure could bloom fully, the guide vanished from the chair and reappeared behind her, a blade pressed lightly, almost casually, to her throat.
"Remember your place," she said, voice a calm statement of fact.
She flickered and was back in her seat, legs crossed, as though nothing had happened.
Naemor, sitting atop a floating platform shaped like a slab of stone, watched with mild interest. "She does speak truth," he said. "What are we supposed to do while they train?"
"We do have plans for you," the guide said, finally looking at him. "A few Tier Three practitioners were scheduled to train you and other gifted children, but they're recovering from a mission. They'll arrive tomorrow. The main reason you're here today is because the second stage will include a competition. Higher-tiered children like you will be team captains. Consider this your chance to observe your future subordinates."
Naemor and Saevra exchanged a look—half shock, half annoyance.
"This meager group is nowhere near enough for a real competition," Saevra scoffed. "And I only see two captains here. Where are the rest?"
"Oh my, such an astute observation," the guide replied dryly, clicking her tongue. "This organization spans the entire world. Do you really think this is the only trial happening right now?"
Saevra bristled. "I meant locally."
"Locally," the guide said, waving a hand, "the other families handle their own selections. If not for certain… special conditions this year, the Nihelson family wouldn't have given these trials a second glance. You'll meet your competition in three months. That should be enough time for your subordinates to become… sturdier human shields. And we're waiting to see if any new talent emerges."
"Talent," Saevra muttered. "What talent could come from these mortals?"
The guide's eyes snapped toward her, cold and ancient. "If you read more history, you'd know these lands weren't always weak. Humans were not always at the bottom of the food—"
A violent, invisible jolt cut her off. She froze, back arching, breath strangled. The same numbing pain that Stella once felt on the bus crawled through her body like cold lightning.
She gasped, steadying herself. "Read… more."
Saevra and Naemor exchanged a wary look, then turned back to the screens, suddenly far more attentive—trying to see what it was the guide was seeing.
Back to the Fields
The sun dipped low, staining the sky with fading gold. Most contestants had finally finished the ten laps; the rest dragged themselves forward, legs trembling, breaths sharp and uneven.
A door materialized in the air, and the guide stepped through as if returning from a casual stroll.
"Congratulations," she said lightly. "You completed the first test. Well—'test' is generous. Think of it as a warm-up. You'll understand why soon."
She swept her arm, and thin stone slips shimmered into existence, dropping neatly into each contestant's hands.
"Place the slip against your foreheads. You'll receive the organization's standard breathing method. You'll also sign a contract preventing you from spreading that knowledge."
Terra shot to her feet, furious. "Why didn't you give us this beforehand? So many more people could've finished!"
Without turning, the guide flicked her finger.
Terra was blasted backward, slamming into a tree so hard bark cracked.
"Terra!" Rachel cried, sprinting toward her.
"I've answered far too many questions today," the guide said, voice growing colder, "especially from lower lifeforms such as yourselves."
Her gaze swept over the group like a winter wind.
"Let me remind you—this world follows one rule. The strong survive. The run tested willpower, not endurance. The gravity adapted to your limits. The pressure at the start is not the pressure at the end—otherwise none of you would have completed a single lap."
She paused, letting silence crush the air.
"You all could have finished. The only question was whether you wanted it badly enough. Now…" Her eyes narrowed. "Any more questions?"
No one spoke. Some trembled. Others were too exhausted to lift their heads.
"Good," the guide said. "You'll learn the breathing technique tonight. If you don't, you will suffer tomorrow."
She stepped through another door.
When it vanished, a long row of stone barracks stood behind the group—silent, waiting.