The heavy gates of Trial Field C slammed shut behind Cain with a grinding thud. Ahead stretched a cracked stone arena, bordered by steel walls scorched from years of combat. This was one of Gearbound Academy's deadliest entry zones — the place they sent hopeless cases to keep them from wasting real candidates' time.
Cain stood alone under the blinding spotlights. The floor buzzed slightly beneath his feet, reacting to latent Gear energy in the arena — energy he did not possess.
Over the intercom, a voice rang out, sterile and disinterested.
> "Candidate 117: Cain Valen. Status: Rankless. No Gear Signature Detected."
A murmur of laughter rippled from the spectator gallery above.
> "Opponent: Lars Emon. D-Class. Gear Type: Force Amplifier."
A door hissed open across the arena. Lars stepped in — tall, muscular, red sparks dancing across his fists. His Gear glowed beneath his skin like veins of molten energy.
He grinned when he saw Cain.
> "This some kind of joke?" Lars barked, cracking his knuckles. "They really put a Rankless in the field with me?"
Cain said nothing.
> "Begin."
Lars charged like a bull, his boots cracking the stone beneath him. His first punch tore through the air like a cannon blast — Cain barely slipped beneath it. A second blow followed, faster than before. Cain ducked. Rolled. Moved like smoke.
The crowd above roared.
> "Stop dodging, coward!"
Cain's eyes were cold. Calm. Calculating.
Lars lunged again — and that's when Cain moved.
One step forward. Elbow to the ribs. Palm to the chin. Sweep behind the knees.
Lars hit the floor, wheezing.
Cain didn't wait. He spun, slamming Lars's arm into the ground and locking his shoulder with surgical precision.
> "YIELD," Cain said.
Lars growled, struggling — then screamed as his arm nearly popped.
> "I YIELD! I YIELD!"
Silence.
The announcer's voice returned, this time strained.
> "Winner… Candidate 117."
Cain stood and turned toward the judges' box. His voice was steady, loud enough for all to hear:
> "You test for power. But you don't test for skill."
The room fell completely still.
> "Trial Field C," Cain muttered, walking toward the exit. "Not so bad."
---