A group of assistants moved swiftly, strapping weighted resistance bands across the contestants' torsos, thighs, and calves.
The pressure-anchored gear clinked with each adjustment - not just for show, but embedded with Nexa calibrators to gauge fatigue and strain in real-time.
Scarlet hovered above the upper platform, speaking through a voice amplifier that rang through the hall.
"This is the second phase: the weighted sprint endurance test," she announced.
"The bands you're wearing aren't just heavy - they're calibrated to fight your stride with reactive pressure. The longer you run the resistance."
One assistant approached Boros with the gear in hand. He didn't even look at him. Boros tilted his head up coldly, his crystal blue eyes unblinking beneath the stark white strands that framed his face.
"I can put them on myself."
The assistant froze, unsure if he should comply. Then, sensing the pressure in Boros's tone, he silently nodded and backed off.
Scarlet noticed the exchange from above, lips tightening slightly.
"He's doing it his way, huh..." she muttered, then continued explaining."You'll be given a thirty second dash window. You're to cover as much distance as possible, and the Nexa gear will track both your speed and fatigue. The higher your output before breakdown, the higher your score."
Murmurs spread among the boys. "Damn, thirty seconds? With these on?"
"Mine already feels like it's crushing my knees -"
"They really don't want us walking tomorrow."
Scarlet raised a hand. "You may begin prepping your stance. The countdown starts in twenty seconds."
Boros fastened the final strap across his thigh and calmly stood up, his face unreadable.
Someone a few meters down muttered, "Doesn't he feel anything with that weight on?"
Another whispered, "At this point I'm not even surprised..."
Then as the 20 second countdown appeared on the hovering screen, the contestants took their positions along the track. Most crouched down with focused eyes and strained limbs.
Boros exhaled. A heavy mist escaped his mouth - like frost on a winter morning. He crouched low, eyes forward, not even tensing.
Just beside him, Vren muttered under his breath, biting his lower lip. "I can't keep losing..."
"I worked too damn hard to get here. I'm not letting some stray outshine me and make me look like trash."
His eyes flickered to his test tablet.
[17.2 points.]
And this was only the second trial.
"If I don't clutch this round, I'm done."
Further up the line, Rael Stren, lithe and poised, twisted his neck side to side, stretching with practiced elegance.
His muscles weren't big - but they moved like springs ready to uncoil.
"I've already calculated the stride intervals," he whispered, one eye flicking across the terrain. "Slope hits at 50 meters... I'll launch there."
Beside him, Jonas Tyrek punched his own shoulder with a grin, psyching himself up.
"Let's make it loud," he said. "Top five, here I come."
Scarlet's voice rang through the air:
"On my count... 3..."
"2..."
"1..."
BOOM.
The horn blasted.
And just like that - everyone exploded forward.
Dust kicked up. Arms pumped. Breathing turned ragged as the contestants surged down the track like wild hounds - desperate to claw their way to the top.
Except one. Boros.
Still crouched.
Still still.
His hair slightly in the wind left behind by the others.
.....
Up in the viewing box, the hooded man's aide blinked, confused.
"Is the gear too heavy? Why isn't he -"
"Watch," the hooded man interrupted calmly. "Don't speak. Just watch."
.....
The timer hit 5 seconds
4...
3...
2...
1...
0.
Boros vanished.
Like a bullet uncoiled from a loaded spring, he launched forward, the dirt beneath his feet cracking.The air shivered as he cut through it.
It was as if the weights on his legs and arms didn't exist. Not a single ounce slowed him down.
Up ahead, one boy wobbled as his footing slipped slightly - nervous and already a step behind.
Midway through the track, he slammed into the dirt just ahead of Boros.
Before anyone could gasp-Boros dipped, rolled cleanly, scooped the boy onto his back, and kept sprinting like it was part of the plan.
"Did he just -?"
"That was one move..."
"He didn't even break pace..."The crowd buzzed in disbelief.
Meanwhile, Rael Stren reached the 50-meter mark and launched himself, bounding ahead with a long leap that cleared two other runners. His breath was perfectly controlled.
Jonas Tyrek blasted forward with raw strength, nearly knocking a kid off balance as he shoulder-checked a turn, teeth gritted with effort.
Vren, eyes narrowed, found rhythm in his panic - arms slicing, legs hammering - until his speed began to match the front pack.
But none of them could ignore the blur behind them - the one gaining ground fast. With a boy slumped across his back.
By the final leg, Boros overtook, five, then eight, then ten contestants, the weight clearly meaningless.
As the finish line drew near, he gently flung the boy forward into the scoring zone before crossing it himself - earning two blaring chimes.
The crowd gasped.
"He didn't even need to save that guy..."
"Why would he -?"
Scarlet narrowed her eyes. "Because he could."
......
"Sir," the aide whispered, rattled. "That wasn't normal. He shouldn't have been able to -"
"Quiet," the hooded man said.
"It's starting to make sense now."
.......
Boros came to a halt past the finish line, he immediately snapped his head toward the timer.
"11 seconds left."
His jaw clenched. "Damn it," he muttered, his hand twitching toward his hair, fighting the urge to yank it out in frustration.
"I finished late... tch. I'm too weak." He scowled, the rage bubbling inside him like lava.
"How the hell am I supposed to beat that fire bastard if I'm this weak?"
Lost in his spiral, a voice suddenly pulled him back. "Thanks, for helping me," the boy he'd saved said quietly, standing on shaky legs.
Boros blinked. "...Help you? Huh?" His tone was cold, almost irritated.
"You were just in the way. I couldn't afford to stop or slow down - so I took you with me."
The boy hesitated, surprised."O-okay... my name's -"
"I don't care," Boros cut in flatly, tilting his head upward as he brushed sweat-slicked strands from his face.
"Not like I'm gonna give you mine."
A small silence hung between them before the boy simply smiled. "It's okay. My name's John." He gave a brief bow, then walked away.
"Tch... annoying," Boros muttered, running a hand through his hair again.
Just then, the sharp trill of Scarlet's whistle cut through the air.
"Time's up!"
The rest of the contestants finally collapsed past the finish line, breathing like dogs in the summer heat. Chests heaved. Limbs trembled.
"Haa... haa... what the...hell?!" one gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Yeah, he's not normal," someone else breathed.
"Started five seconds late, saved someone along the way... and still finished first?"
"He's a damn monster."
Boros heard it all - every whispered word.
"Monster... me?"
His eyes widened slightly.
Then - snap. Like the breaking of a dam, memories surged into his mind:
"That's right, you damn brat. Die, you monster!"
Crowds of angry humans stepping on his crouched back, their shadows long and hateful.
Boots.
Spit.
Blood.
Laughter.
His breath hitched as his nose began to bleed. A throbbing pain spread across his skull like a migraine detonating from the inside.
"Are those... my memories?"
His hands trembled as he clutched his head. "Tch... the hell does my head hurt so much...?"
A voice broke through the fog. "Alright then," Scarlet announced, finally drawing his attention. "We're going to call out the scores now."
Assistants moved swiftly, kneeling beside each contestant, unclipping the weighted straps to prepare the results.
A few of the contestants groaned in relief as the weights were removed, leaving deep marks on their shoulders and arms.
Scarlet's calm voice echoed across the field."Prepare for results. The points of the second test will be announced shortly."
Boros slowly lowered his hand, eyes still twitching slightly from the pain. He wiped the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand and stared at the red streak across his skin.
"This again...?" he muttered. "Tch..."
He looked up, trying to steady his breathing. His eyes scanned the crowd instinctively - until they landed on John.
The boy was now standing a short distance away, surrounded by a few others who were thanking him for something.
John gave a sheepish grin and bowed lightly, then looked back at Boros for a split second - just long enough to make eye contact.Boros looked away.
"Tch. Don't look at me like that, brat."
He flexed his fingers once, then cracked his neck with a snap. The pain in his head was still there, a dull, angry pulse - but he forced it down, burying it beneath the surface.
"Alright then," Scarlet announced again, voice rising above the murmurs.
"Assistants, report to your tablets. Time to log the final points for this stamina test."
As the straps were removed from each contestant, faint groans of relief echoed across the field.
Many collapsed to their knees the moment the weights came off, too exhausted to even stand.
Boros stayed standing.
Still.
Quiet.
Watching.
Waiting.