I joined the family downstairs, following the scent of pancakes and coffee. The Harrison household was picture-perfect—sunlight streaming through windows, breakfast spread on the table, and a family that looked like they'd stepped out of a cereal commercial. Except for Lila, who looked like she'd stepped out of something much less wholesome.
David stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with the precision of someone who'd done it a thousand times. He glanced up as I entered, his face breaking into a genuine smile that made me uncomfortable. I wasn't used to people being happy to see me.
"Morning, son! So, what's the plan? Are you prepared for testing today?"
I slid into an empty chair, nodding with practiced humility. "Definitely, sir. I've been practicing the techniques you showed me."
"That's what I like to hear!" David loaded a plate with pancakes and set it in front of me. "Today's important. The testing will determine your official rank, but I already know you've got what it takes."
Sarah appeared behind me, placing a glass of orange juice by my plate. Her hand brushed my shoulder, lingering just a second too long. The scent of her perfume—something floral and expensive—enveloped me as she leaned close.
"I made your favorite," she said, her voice low near my ear. "You'll need the energy today. The testing can be... intense."
I mumbled thanks, hyper-aware of her proximity and the way her robe gaped slightly as she reached across the table. When I looked up, I caught Maya watching me from across the table. She immediately dropped her gaze to her plate, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
Lila, on the other hand, maintained direct eye contact as she deliberately dipped her finger into the syrup on her plate and brought it to her mouth. She sucked it clean, her eyes never leaving mine.
"Sleep well, little brother?" she asked, her tone innocent but her eyes anything but.
"Fine," I managed, forcing myself to look away. Under the table, I felt her foot brush against my calf.
David, oblivious to the undercurrents, continued talking about the testing process. "I pulled some strings to get you evaluated early. Usually, there's a waiting list, but Coach Marcus owed me a favor."
"Thanks," I said, genuinely appreciative of the advantage. "I won't let you down."
"I know you won't." David's faith in me was almost touching. Almost.
(He has no idea what you're capable of,) the assistant commented. (None of them do.)
A car horn honked outside, saving me from further family bonding.
"That'll be Zack," I said, standing quickly. "I should go."
Sarah handed me a lunch bag. "Good luck today," she said, her fingers brushing mine during the exchange.
I nodded, escaping to the front door before anyone could see how their combined attention was affecting me. These people thought I was their troubled foster son. They had no idea they'd invited a wolf into their home.
---
Zack's car was surprisingly decent—a late-model hover sedan with only a few dents.
"Nice car," I said, sliding into the passenger seat.
Zack snorted, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Yeah, my mom gave it to me when she heard you were tagging along. She definitely doesn't trust me driving alone with my 'condition.'"
He pulled away from the curb, the car's hover system humming smoothly. "So, ready to get ranked? I'm just hoping they don't laugh me out of the building."
"It can't be that bad," I said, though the memories I'd inherited from Kelvin suggested otherwise.
"Dude, I can barely move a paperclip. Do you know what they call that? Micro-telekinesis. Micro. As in, microscopically useless." He sighed dramatically. "My dad nearly disowned me when the preliminary tests came back. 'No son of mine is an F-rank,' he said. Then spent fifty grand on enhancement treatments that did jack shit."
I let him rant, gathering information. Zack was the perfect source—insecure enough to be grateful for my friendship, knowledgeable enough to be useful.
"So how does this testing work exactly?" I asked.
"They put you in this chamber with a power-measuring orb. It reads your elemental affinity, power output, and control. Then they assign you a rank from F to S. F is me—useless. D is basic civilian protection stuff. C is where the real Arena potential starts. B is professional level. A is championship material. S is... well, legends."
"And what happens after ranking?"
"Depends on your score. C and above, you get offers from training facilities, sponsors start sniffing around. Below that, it's private security jobs or flipping burgers." He glanced at me. "You'll be fine though. I've seen you practicing those sonic moves. Solid C-rank material, maybe even B if you impress them."
I nodded, hiding my smile. If he only knew.
"What about the social scene?" I asked casually. "Any hot fighters I should know about?"
Zack's face lit up. "Dude, so many. There's Amber Reyes—total smoke show, but she's dating Jake Mercer, A-rank lightning user. He's put three guys in the hospital for looking at her wrong. Then there's Frost—real name Eliza Chen. Ice element, B-rank minimum. They call her the Ice Queen because no one's been able to melt her, if you know what I mean."
He continued listing potential conquests as we drove, unaware he was giving me a target list. By the time we reached the testing center, I had a mental catalog of the most interesting women in the Arena system.
Perfect.
---
The Hero Association Testing Center looked like a cross between a hospital and a sports arena—all gleaming white surfaces and high-tech equipment, with motivational posters of famous fighters on the walls. Dozens of candidates milled around the lobby, some showing off minor powers to impress each other.
We joined the registration line, where an attractive woman in her late twenties was processing candidates.
"Name?" she asked when we reached her desk.
"Kelvin Harrison," I replied, giving her my most charming smile.
She looked up, her professional demeanor slipping slightly as she assessed me. "Harrison... as in David Harrison's son?"
"Foster son," I corrected. "Recently adopted."
Her eyes lingered on mine a moment longer than necessary. "Lucky you. David's a legend around here." She typed something into her tablet. "You're scheduled for testing group C, 11:30. Your preliminary assessment indicates sonic element, is that correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She smiled at the formality. "Good luck, Mr. Harrison. I'll be monitoring your results with interest."
As we moved away from the desk, Zack elbowed me. "Dude, she was totally into you."
"Just being professional," I said, though I'd definitely noticed her interest.
"Yeah, right. Professional my ass—" Zack stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening. "Oh shit. It's him."
I followed his gaze to a group entering the lobby. At the center was a tall, athletic guy with the confident swagger of someone who'd never questioned his place in the world. His arm was draped possessively around a stunning brunette who looked simultaneously bored and beautiful.
"Jake Mercer," Zack whispered. "A-rank lightning user. And that's Amber, his girlfriend."
I studied them both, assessing. Jake: physically impressive, clearly powerful, but with the insecurity of someone who defined himself by others' perceptions. Amber: gorgeous, aware of her value, but chafing under Jake's possessiveness. Her eyes scanned the room restlessly, like she was looking for an escape.
When her gaze passed over me, I held it for just a second longer than appropriate. Something flickered in her expression—interest, curiosity, rebellion.
"Dude, no," Zack hissed, noticing our exchange. "Jake will literally vibrate your organs until they explode. He put three guys in the hospital last month."
"For what?" I asked, still watching Amber.
"One asked for her number. One complimented her outfit. One just looked at her too long."
I smiled. "Sounds insecure."
"Sounds deadly," Zack corrected. "His girlfriend's hot, but she's not worth dying for."
I finally looked away as Jake led his entourage toward the VIP testing area. "Some things are worth the risk."
(Playing with fire already?) the assistant commented. (I approve.)
---
The waiting room was a study in teenage anxiety. Some candidates practiced their powers in small, controlled demonstrations. Others sat silently, eyes closed in concentration. A few huddled in corners, clearly terrified.
Zack and I found seats near the back wall, watching the show.
"Zero!" A loud voice cut through the murmur of conversation. "I thought I smelled failure."
A stocky guy with close-cropped hair approached, flanked by two equally unimpressive friends. I recognized him from Kelvin's memories—Brad Thompson, a mid-tier fire user who compensated for his mediocre powers with excessive aggression.
"Hey, Brad," Zack said, shrinking in his seat. "Good to see you too."
"Still moving paperclips, Zero? Or have you graduated to bottle caps?" Brad and his friends laughed at their own wit.
I assessed Brad quickly—physically strong but slow, reliant on intimidation rather than skill. His vital points were obvious to my experienced eye—solar plexus, right knee with an old injury, throat vulnerable due to his habit of jutting his chin forward.
"Who's your friend?" Brad asked, turning his attention to me. "Another loser?"
I smiled pleasantly. "Kelvin Harrison. Nice to meet you."
My calm response clearly wasn't what he expected. "Harrison? As in David Harrison? No way that legend is related to a friend of Zero's."
"Foster son," I corrected. "Recently adopted."
Brad snorted. "Well, foster son, what's your element? Let me guess—something useless like bubble generation?"
"Sonic," I replied, still smiling.
"Sonic? Like sound?" He laughed. "What do you do, talk people to death?"
I maintained eye contact, still smiling, but focused a tiny thread of power toward him—a subtle vibration at a frequency that stimulated the fear center of the brain. Nothing obvious, just enough to make him suddenly, inexplicably uneasy.
Brad's laughter faltered. He took an unconscious step back, confusion crossing his face.
"Something wrong?" I asked innocently.
"I... no." He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. "Whatever. See you in testing, losers."
As he walked away, Zack stared at me in amazement. "What did you do? He looked like he was going to piss himself."
I shrugged. "Just a little trick I picked up. Some people respond to the right... frequency."
Before Zack could question me further, a technician appeared at the door. "Group F, you're up first."
Zack's face fell. "That's me. F for failure, right on brand." He stood, trying to look brave. "Wish me luck."
"You don't need luck," I said. "You've got something better than power."
"What's that?"
"Me as your friend." I meant it to sound manipulative, but it came out almost genuine. Strange.
Zack grinned, clearly touched. "Thanks, man. See you on the other side."
As he followed the other F-group candidates, I settled in to wait, observing the room. My eyes were drawn to a solitary figure in the corner—a striking Asian woman with an icy demeanor that kept everyone at a distance.
(That's Frost,) the assistant supplied. (Ice element. B-rank minimum. They call her the Ice Queen. No one's melted her yet.)
I studied her with interest. "Challenge accepted."
(One conquest at a time, Romeo. Focus on today's test first.)
Right. The test. Time to put on a show.
---