020 STEPPED INTO A TRAP
"And the other fights where the fighters are struck by psychic attacks, he was there too?" Ambrone pressed.
Lander shook his head. Another clip appeared: Damen waving at a security camera before leaving the stadium.
"What is this?" Ambrone demanded.
"Proof of Alibi," Lander said. "He had already left the stadium when the later attacks occurred."
Ambrone scoffed. "Then he's not our psychic. Attacks of this level don't work without direct line of sight, not even from an S-class."
"Exactly," Dorin agreed. "It couldn't have been him."
Lander folded his arms. "Which is why I said 'yes and no' earlier when you asked if I have a suspect. He may not be the psychic, but Damen Dark is at the center of this puzzle."
Ambrone stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. "You dragged me here for theories and half-baked clues? Call me when you have something solid." He stormed out.
The room lingered in heavy silence.
"What should we do now?" Dorin asked quietly.
Lander' eyes narrowed. "He still trains at your gym, doesn't he?"
"Yes."
"Then have him checked. Thoroughly."
"No, we can't do that. Not in our gym", Dorin protested.
"Why?" Lander asked.
"If we did that, he would become suspicious. We must have him checked without his overt knowledge", she said.
"Good. I'll leave it to you."
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[Melrose Middle School No.9]
The main examination hall of Melrose Middle School No. 9 buzzed with activity. Massive machines lined the space, each one designed to test students' Strength and Meta attributes with precision.
This was the most important exam of their lives, a gateway to their futures.
Students with exceptional Strength aptitudes could gain admission to military high schools, setting them on a path toward careers in the city's armed forces or related industries. The best among them could become Supersoldiers.
Those who excelled in Meta aptitude, however, had an entirely different future waiting.
They would enter prestigious Meta Schools, honing their abilities to become the city's next generation of heroes and perhaps even Superheroes.
For students who fell short in both Strength and Meta, the outcome rested on their Theory test scores.
They might still attend ordinary high schools, but their lives would be predictable, their careers confined to research or mundane work, far removed from the extraordinary paths of their more gifted peers.
Soon, students began filing into the examination hall after finishing their Theory exams. One by one, they registered and were ready to step up to the machines.
From a raised platform in the center of the room, a woman's sharp gaze scanned the crowd.
She was Miss Poney Black.
She was looking for someone…someone she had been nursing a grudge against for weeks.
"Where is that darn Damen Dark? that bastard skipped school for a whole month just so I have no reason to expel him… now he'll bring down the score of my entire class. He better not make it here today," she muttered, her patience running thin.
She scrutinized all the students in class and only one of them was missing- Damen.
"Good…that bastard is not here", she thought, relieved.
Suddenly and finally, Damen Dark appeared, striding into the hall, his looks completely changed and almost unrecognizable.
"It's you…" she almost screamed, only to freeze when she noticed the person beside him: It was Principal Dean. She couldn't dare punish Damen here, not with the principal watching.
"You better wait, Damen Dark," she seethed silently. "After this test, I'll make sure you're rejected from every high school in the city—even the mundane ones."
Damen moved past his classmates. Most didn't recognize him immediately.
"Who's that beau? Is he even in our class?" a girl whispered, her eyes wide with longing.
Gradually, recognition set in. "He's… Damen Dark… the trash," someone muttered.
Another added, "How did he get so tall and… cute? And he's lost his glasses?"
"Will he have lunch with me?"
Comments buzzed around him as usual, but the tone had shifted. There were fewer sneers from before, but more murmurs of admiration.
Sexy… tall… instead of Trash and Garbage.
Damen ignored them, waiting in line, but his attention drifted to the constellation of test machines.
"I remember during the mock test there weren't this many machines," he thought. "And these ones look more complex. If the machines for the mock test were already close to finals, why the upgrade? It's expensive."
He leaned toward his friend Mikey. "Something's different with these machines."
"Who cares about the machines?" Mikey fretted. "I've only got 3.0 in Meta and 5.0 in Strength. That's barely passing!"
Damen stayed silent, analyzing.
Even the machines at Heroes Gym that were more advanced and precise were simpler than these. A gut feeling stirred in him.
"Something isn't right."
And then, his eyes landed on someone familiar: Dorin from Heroes Gym, busy adjusting the machines.
"Why is Dorin here?" he muttered under his breath.
Damen wanted to call out to Dorin, to greet her—but she quickly looked away, as if avoiding him.
"Is she avoiding me?" he wondered, a knot forming in his stomach.
With that uneasy feeling, his mind began spinning with conspiracy theories.
A guilty mind is always suspicious; a villain's fate is to doubt everyone around him.
"Something's off…"
"Did Dorin figure out what my mining app can do and just isn't saying anything?" he asked himself. Deep down, he had always worried that she might suspect him when he suddenly acquired the Flash Dash skilll.
He forced himself to calm down. She's probably just doing her job. "Maybe the school contracted her gym to handle these machines."
But the nagging doubt wouldn't leave him.
"Better focus," he muttered under his breath.
At that moment, it was Mikey's turn to step up to the testing machine.
-----
Dorin made her way to the back of the testing hall, where a temporary control center had been set up. Inside, Special Investigator Lander was already monitoring the equipment.
"What did you find?" she asked, her tone low and urgent.
Lander smiled faintly. "He's here. The psychic energy readings are off the charts—this entire hall is saturated with it."
"So, the psychic serial attacker is actually in this hall?" Dorin's eyes widened.
"I'm certain of it. Now we just need to pinpoint exactly who," Lander replied.
Unaware of the setup, Damen stepped into the testing booth for his turn.
Every detail around him—the machines, the layout, even the guards—had been arranged for a single purpose: to trap and test him.
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