"There is definitely something wrong with this device," Gil thought to himself after Hugo failed as well.
Aside from him, the rest of the captives simply took it for granted that Hugo had failed. After all, outside of Gil—and the healer, who had clashed with Hugo directly and felt his uncanny nature firsthand—none of the captives knew the full truth. To the crowd, Hugo's impressive showing during their earlier fight was easily chalked up to exceptional raw combat expertise and nothing more.
However, Gil and his inner circle knew better: their giant friend was anything but ordinary.
That left two glaring anomalies—two clearly extraordinary individuals—and yet the crystal meant to detect innate predispositions had failed to react to either of them.
The implications were telling.
Gil for now, could see three distinct possibilities explaining the anomaly:
First : Their unique traits, while formidable, fell below the specific energy threshold required for the device to register a reaction.
Second : The crystal prism itself was defective, compromised, or simply incapable of processing unconventional anomalies.
Third : The fundamental parameters the machine evaluated to define a person's "predisposition" simply did not apply to whatever nature Gil and Hugo possessed.
Regardless of which option it is, it works out in my favor, Gil thought quietly.
He had no intention of voicing any of his theories aloud, keeping his deductions locked firmly in the back of his mind.
After Hugo took his turn, a profound, heavy silence filled with unease settled over the captives.
The weight of their predicament pressed down on them like a lead blanket. With almost the entire group having gone through the ordeal and yielding only two positive results, the cold, mathematical reality was staring them right in the face.
Standing near the back, Gil kept his face completely neutral, though his sharp eyes never left the healer. He could see the masked instructor gathering his thoughts, preparing his next words carefully to address the despair rippling through the hall.
Noticing the suffocating gloom that had settled over the room, the healer paused to collect himself before offering them a faint thread of hope.
"Listen up, all of you!" his voice boomed, cutting cleanly through the silence.
The captives looked up, their faces etched with anxiety. Every single person in the hall understood a harsh, undeniable truth: awakening those powers meant becoming valuable—and being valuable meant being far less disposable to their captors.
Having seen over thirty people step up to the crystal only for the vast majority to be rejected, the remaining youths were gripped by profound dread, feeling as though their last slim chance at survival had just slipped through their fingers.
"If you think everyone in this organization possesses those qualifications, you're dead wrong."
The healer's sharp words immediately reignited a spark of light in the captives' hollow eyes.
"Those with this innate predisposition are extraordinarily rare. I won't bore you with numbers, but you can already guess as much from how few of you passed today."
A few captives nodded subconsciously, grasping onto the sudden sliver of hope.
"That doesn't mean the rest of you are useless," the healer continued, pausing for emphasis as his eyes swept over the silent crowd. "And who said this was the only way? Who told you there was just one path to becoming extraordinary—to gaining power far beyond normal human limits?"
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
"Huh?"
"There's... another way?"
Instantly, those who had only been half-listening or had surrendered to despair snapped their heads up in unison, staring at the healer with eyes burning with newfound hope. Even Mao—who had been entirely consumed by the mystery surrounding Gil's strange anomaly—dropped his train of thought to hang on the healer's every word.
The healer nodded slowly, deciding not to keep them waiting.
"It's a bit early to explain the full picture, but the different paths to acquiring supernatural power are known as 'Ways.' The test you just took measures your affinity for one of the two Ways our organization has mastered training methods for."
In the back, Gil listened with sharp, quiet intrigue.
"So don't abandon hope," the healer continued, his voice ringing clearly across the hall. "Even if you lack the qualifications for the same Way as mine, the second path is far more inclusive. It accepts virtually anyone. As long as you are willing to pour in the effort—as long as you aren't afraid to bleed and sweat for it—you will see results. From here on, your future depends entirely on you."
Even if a few harbored a trace of skepticism deep down—doubting that anything in this brutal world truly guaranteed rewards through sheer effort alone—nobody was foolish enough to voice it.
They desperately needed hope, and the healer had handed them a lifeline.
Fired up with renewed enthusiasm, the captives eagerly stared at the instructor, waiting for their next marching orders. Sensing the shift in momentum, the healer struck while the iron was hot.
"This particular Way is predominantly focused on physical mastery," he declared, his voice carrying across the room. "So if you want any chance of treading this path, you first need to get your bodies into peak condition. While most of you are already accustomed to harsh living conditions and aren't in particularly poor physical condition, there are still physical limitations..."
He trailed off mid-sentence, realizing his eyes had unconsciously drifted toward a specific individual.
He wasn't the only one who noticed. Several glances shifted toward Gil landing squarely on his missing left arm.
He was seething inwardly, but his facial expression remained rock-solid, his gaze locked firmly onto the healer.
Catching himself before the heavy mood could derail his momentum, the healer quickly recovered. "Therefore, you will follow my strict instructions for an initial period of physical conditioning. Although this isn't my primary specialty, I will guide you step by step."
He turned and led them toward another section of the massive hall, where an array of heavy training equipment and fitness gear was laid out.
"To begin, I need baseline data on your raw physical stats following your combat evaluations earlier."
Hungry for progress, the youths followed his directives without hesitation, stepping up to the machines under the healer's watchful eye.
After demonstrating how to operate the various machines and leaving strict instructions for their routines, the healer approached Helena and Arya.
Following a brief discussion, he led the two girls into the lift that had brought them down, disappearing into the upper levels.
His departure didn't go unnoticed. Everyone realized he was leaving to oversee the specialized training for the two confirmed candidates.
Though a trace of bitterness lingered among the rest for missing out on such personal instruction, they channeled that frustration into raw effort, redoubling their determination to walk the only path left available to them.
Since none of them were lazy by nature, the captives threw themselves fully into the conditioning exercises the instructor had outlined. Even Mao—whose slight build made him look far frailer than the rest—could be seen gritting his teeth, refusing to give up as he ran on a treadmill while the device logged his physical metrics.
Back with Gil's group, the tension eased the moment the healer vanished.
Letting out a long sigh of relief, Gil led his crew toward a quieter corner of the training area. He picked an equipment setup designed to train core balance, working at a steady, measured pace while the others gathered on nearby machines, keeping their voices low.
"Well... that didn't go so badly," Gil began smoothly.
Greg opened his mouth to interject, but Kuro cut him off. Her voice carried a tense, unusually sharp edge, laced with a trace of quiet reproach.
"Are you really so sure about that?"
Gil looked at Kuro, sensing her frustration but genuinely puzzled as to what he had done to offend her. Realizing her agitation had been painfully obvious, Kuro took a deep breath, composed her icy facade, and stared right into Gil's eyes.
"Can you really be certain?" she asked. "Are you absolutely positive that passing that test is guaranteed to be a bad thing?"
Gil's brows knit together. "Like I said, I don't have concrete proof, but I'm certain nothing good awaits those girls up there."
"Alright. Let's say you're right," Kuro pressed, her gaze unyielding. "What then?"
Gil's eyes narrowed further.
"Don't get me wrong," Kuro continued softly. "I respect your caution, and under normal circumstances, I would've made the exact same call. But this isn't an immediate life-or-death scenario—this is about power. Have you ever heard of anyone gaining real strength without sacrificing something in return?"
Understanding began to dawn on Gil, and his expression hardened. "So... you would have preferred taking the test and leaving your safety to the whims of our captors?"
Greg felt the sudden spike in tension and made a move to intervene, but Orphée quietly placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.
"No," Kuro replied firmly. "That doesn't mean I would blindly trust them. After everything we've been through here, I know better than that."
Gil's brow relaxed just a fraction. "Then why?"
"Because it's simple, Gil—it comes down to raw power," Kuro said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Look at our group right now. Aside from you, Hugo, and Orphée, even Greg has a little something special."
"Huh? Me?" Greg turned his head, pointing a finger at his own chest in sheer confusion.
Ignoring his interruption, Kuro drove her point home. "Me? I only have my past combat training as a foundation. And in a place crawling with freaks and people who can shoot light out of their hands, that becomes increasingly useless."
Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists, the memory of her utter helplessness when the healer blasted her backward still burning fresh in her mind.
"So yes, I wouldn't trust them—far from it. But if playing their game, no matter how dangerous, gives me the strength to defend myself, I would take that risk. After all..."
She let out a faint, slightly bitter, and uncharacteristically sad smile."...can you guarantee that you'll always be there to protect us, Gil?"
Gil remained dead silent. He couldn't promise that, not even as a joke. After all, during their earlier ordeal, he had been entirely powerless—unable to protect them, unable even to protect himself.
Kuro let out a sharp sigh, abandoned the machine she was working on, and channeled her mounting frustration into a heavy punching bag nearby, unleashing a barrage of fierce strikes.
Gil watched her, his mind racing as he wrestled with how to resolve this shift in their dynamic.
We're lucky there's an alternative—the second Way the healer mentioned. But even then, they're the ones holding the keys. If they hold back crucial details or teach us an incomplete method, things could spiral out of control fast.
What should I do?
What can I do?
The atmosphere was suffocating. Greg stood awkwardly, completely at a loss for words, while Orphée quietly translated the intense exchange for Hugo.
Hugo, sensing the heavy rift forming in their group, listened intently.
He rumbled a short, low response back to Orphée.
The reply was so absurd that even the perpetually unbothered Orphée gasped out loud, his usual calm mask slipping entirely.
"Huh? Are you serious, big guy?"
Gil spun around, his attention pulled away from his heavy thoughts, and stared at Orphée . It took a lot to crack Orphée's laid-back, unbothered facade, so seeing him genuinely shaken immediately raised red flags.
"Boss, you're not going to believe this," Orphée stammered, pointing a finger back at the red-haired giant.
Gil braced himself, expecting bad news or some bizarre misunderstanding. But the next words out of Orphée's mouth froze him completely in his tracks.
"Hugo says... he already knows a Way. He knows a method to get stronger on his own."