The echoes of Cain's victory still lingered in the academy's combat halls.
In a control room high above the arena, several instructors stood behind glass screens, watching the replay in silence. The footage of Cain subduing Lars played in slow motion — no energy surges, no Gear activation, just fluid, brutal precision.
> "Still no Gear signature?" one instructor asked.
> "None. Not a flicker."
> "Then how the hell did he drop a D-rank brawler in under twenty seconds?"
No one answered.
On a separate monitor, Cain's profile flashed:
Name: Cain Valen
Status: Rankless
Gear Affinity: Null
Observed Threat Level: Unknown
A silent red tag had been added:
⚠ Flagged for Evaluation
---
Meanwhile, Cain sat alone in the observation wing, his hand wrapped in a simple bandage. Not from the fight — he hadn't taken a single hit — but from gripping too tightly after it ended. The adrenaline still hadn't faded.
His victory didn't bring applause. It brought stares.
Other examinees whispered as he walked past. A few glared openly. One even muttered:
> "Lucky shot. He won't last a week."
Cain didn't care. He hadn't come to make friends.
But someone else was watching — a girl with violet eyes leaning against a corridor wall, arms crossed. She wore a white uniform with a red emblem on her collar: A-Class.
> "You're Cain, right?" she said, stepping forward.
Cain stopped.
> "The Rankless boy who embarrassed a ranked fighter?"
He didn't answer.
> "I'm Iris Kyrell. Top of A-Class. And you… you're interesting."
Cain's brow furrowed. "You're not here to mock me too?"
She smiled faintly. "No. I'm here to warn you."
Cain tensed.
> "The others saw what you did. And they don't like questions they can't answer."
"The instructors will watch you. The students will target you. And someone will try to 'correct the glitch'."
Cain met her gaze. "Let them try."
Iris chuckled and turned. "Trial Day's not over. You've got two more tests. Let's see if you survive those, too."
---
Later, in the instructor's chamber, a tall man in a dark cloak reviewed the files alone. His face was hidden in shadow, but his voice was sharp.
> "Cain Valen… no known Gear, no backing family, no special marks… and yet…"
He tapped the screen.
> "Pull records from the Forbidden Zone six years ago. Cross-reference with any Valen survivors."
A younger aide blinked. "Sir, that data's restricted."
The man's voice dropped.
> "So am I."
The screen flashed red for a moment, then loaded.
His eyes narrowed as he read, lips curling into a grin.
> "So that's what you are."