Allen dressed in a tracksuit and stepped out of the hotel. The fresh morning breeze tousled his hair. Drawing in a deep breath, he made his way toward his café, where Alex was just rolling up the shutters.
Allen gave her a brief smile as he passed, then continued down the street. Few people were out—mostly early workers opening their businesses or joggers making their rounds. A glance at a building clock told him it was nearly nine, prompting him to quicken his pace toward the Heroic Federation building.
Beside City Hall in City F stood a wide, three-story structure of blue glass. After stopping for a moment at the entrance to steady his heartbeat, Allen stepped through the doors and entered a spacious lobby several hundred square meters across.
Spotting the reception desk to his right, he walked over and presented the document the man had given him the day before. The receptionist read it carefully, nodded, and handed him a black card printed with a ten-digit number.
"Keep this with you. It's only your ID. You'll start with an interview in the east room."
Allen slipped the card into his pocket and headed to the indicated door. Inside, the room contained only a single chair. On the wall: a speaker and a camera.
"Allen, forty-two."
Allen allowed himself a brief smile.
"Well, my reflexes, strength, and speed are fairly well-documented by now. I find the question somewhat… irrelevant."
"Simple life, nothing noteworthy. Studied. Finished school. Worked. Now I run a café."
There was a pause—whoever was behind the speaker seemed to be writing everything down.
The wall across the room slid open, revealing General Titan, who snatched Allen's paper.
"That little brat…!"
"What is it, Titan?"
A man dressed in a violet ninja-style uniform approached. Titan's face reddened.
"He answered every question with a drawing that looks like something a five-year-old would scribble! And in the final question he wrote, 'I follow only my own rules, not those imposed by a government.'"
The ninja took the paper and waved it calmly.
"His answers aren't our concern. The upper ranks will evaluate him. And I shouldn't need to remind you—Calibur took interest in this man. If you try anything, you'll be dead long before you win your little election."
Titan swallowed hard. He had never met Calibur, but even as an S-Rank hero, Calibur's strength was rumored to rival the S-X tier—capable of defeating a Category 5 monster outright.
"Now we only need to observe his physical test and combat evaluation."
"Who is he fighting?"
"I don't know if it's a cruel joke… or if Calibur wants something from him, but he's been assigned to fight Fortress."
Titan's complexion drained of color.
"That has to be a mistake!"
The ninja fed Allen's test into a fax machine and shook his head.
"No mistake. He must face Fortress for ten minutes."
"That kid is dead. Fortress is an A-Rank hero, top hundred worldwide. He won't even scratch him."
"Then you haven't noticed…?"
The ninja murmured those words almost under his breath. He quickly dismissed whatever thought he had, then headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Titan asked.
"I prefer to see it with my own eyes."
Titan followed, still unable to understand.
---
Outside, they saw on the monitors that Allen had barely passed the physical tests—just enough to meet the minimum. Titan felt vindicated in his assumption that Allen stood no chance against Fortress.
But the ninja saw what Titan did not: Allen's breathing was steady, his expression calm. He hadn't used an ounce of real strength.
Stretching his arms, Allen watched as a square arena about twenty square meters rose from the floor. Standing atop it was a towering man—over two meters tall, broad as a boulder, wearing only undergarments—glaring at Allen.
The advantage was that only a few low-ranking heroes were present, busy with their own training. No one besides Allen was taking aptitude tests that morning.
Allen entered the arena, greeted immediately by the massive man standing opposite.
"Good morning, sir. I'm Allen. I hope you don't get injured during this bout."
The man gave him a sinister grin. Titan imagined the worst; the ninja studied the placement of Allen's feet.
Fortress hardened his entire arm into stone and swung, but Allen had already slipped behind him.
"I should mention—I dislike fighting. I won't be striking you even once."
He bowed lightly, sidestepping another blow.
"Though I must admit, you're quite fast for someone of your size."
"Coward."
Allen blinked, genuinely puzzled.
"Strike me. I guarantee your bones will break."
Allen exhaled.
"I hope you bear no grudge afterward. After all… it is unbecoming of a gentleman to strike someone markedly weaker."
Fortress swung again—but froze when he saw Allen block his stone-arm blow with only his left hand. Before Fortress could react, Allen's right fist drove into his abdomen, knocking him unconscious instantly.
"My mistake… used too much force."
Everyone present—including Titan and the ninja—stared in disbelief. But only the ninja noticed the faint flash of white light on Allen's fist, recalling an incident from years past.
At that moment, alarms blared. A screen showed the image of a turtle-type monster. Allen let out a weary sigh and lit a cigarette.
"Another one…? They don't let me rest a single day."
The ninja was the only one close enough to hear him.