The facility didn't look like a place for children.
Concrete walls. Narrow windows reinforced with mesh. A quiet that wasn't peaceful—just controlled. Daiso stood near the entrance with his hands at his sides, the bracelet on his wrist pulsing faintly as it synced with the building.
Other kids waited nearby.
Some talked too much.
Some didn't talk at all.
Daiso watched their feet instead of their faces.
A boy with broad shoulders and cropped hair leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He looked about twelve, already tall, posture loose like he wasn't worried about anyone here. His skin was dark, eyes sharp and assessing, a thin scar running from his jaw to his ear.
"You new?" the boy asked.
Daiso nodded.
"Name's Malik," he said. "Malik Ríos." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What can you do?"
Daiso hesitated. "Move."
Malik laughed once. "That's vague."
"It's enough," Daiso said.
Malik studied him for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Fair."
Across the room, a girl sat alone on a bench, legs tucked under her. She had pale skin and long black hair tied into a low knot, strands falling loose around her face. Her eyes were light—almost gray—and unfocused, like she was listening to something no one else could hear.
Every few seconds, she flinched.
Daiso felt it then.
Pressure. Not physical. Emotional. Like the room itself was holding its breath around her.
A man entered without raising his voice, and the room went silent anyway.
He was tall, mid-thirties maybe, lean build under a dark uniform with no insignia. His hair was black, streaked faintly with silver at the temples. His eyes were calm in a way that felt earned, not gentle.
"Assessment starts now," he said. "If you don't belong here, you'll know before the end."
He looked at each of them once.
"You can call me Instructor Hale."
They were split into groups of five.
No explanation. No warm-up.
Daiso ended up with Malik, the quiet girl, and two others he didn't know. One was jittery, fingers twitching constantly. The other stared straight ahead like he'd already decided nothing mattered.
A line was painted across the floor.
Hale gestured to it. "Cross it."
Nothing happened at first.
Then the air thickened.
The jittery boy stepped forward without thinking.
He crossed the line.
His scream cut off halfway.
He dropped to his knees, gasping, hands clawing at his chest like he'd been punched from the inside. No blood. No visible injury. Just pain.
Hale raised a hand.
The pressure vanished.
"Abilities respond to stress," Hale said evenly. "Some of you create it. Some of you fold under it."
The boy was dragged back by medics, shaking.
The quiet girl hadn't moved.
Neither had Daiso.
"Second attempt," Hale said.
Malik stepped forward this time.
He crossed the line.
Nothing happened.
He grinned. "Guess I—"
The floor cracked beneath his feet.
Malik stumbled as something slammed downward, pinning him in place. His grin vanished, teeth grinding as he fought it.
Daiso felt the pull.
Instinct screamed.
He was already moving before he realized it.
The world folded.
Daiso appeared beside Malik, swapping places with him in a clean, short jump. Malik fell backward across the line, gasping but free.
Daiso crossed it instead.
The pressure hit him immediately.
Not crushing. Not sharp.
Heavy.
Like the room was asking him if he was sure.
His chest burned. His vision dimmed. He stayed standing.
Hale's eyes narrowed.
The quiet girl finally looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, the pressure eased—not gone, just less angry.
Daiso took one step forward.
Then another.
He crossed the line completely.
The pressure vanished.
Silence followed.
Hale didn't smile.
He just nodded once.
"Some of you," he said, "will learn how to push."
His gaze lingered on Daiso.
"Some of you will learn where the line is."
Malik sat up, breathing hard, staring at Daiso like he was seeing him for the first time.
The quiet girl watched too, head tilted slightly, eyes unreadable.
Daiso's legs shook as the aftermath hit him, delayed and sharp. He swallowed it down.
He didn't feel proud.
He felt marked.
Above them, unseen systems updated quietly—reclassifying risk, potential, and cost.
And for the first time, Daiso Reveles crossed a line the world would never let him uncross.