Days slipped by in a quiet, repeating rhythm—school, training, pushing himself, then collapsing into bed only to wake up and do it all again. But every night, before sleeping, Michael practiced the rotation of the blue core.
Tonight felt different. He was closer.
Rotate right… shift the spin down… then back again—
He winced as a pressure pulsed through his veins. The energy resisted him like a beast tugging at its chains.
"It's stressful…" he muttered under his breath, jaw tight. "But I did it…"
A small smile tugged at his lips despite the sweat.
Thirty-five percent. Finally.
"I can control it more now," he whispered. "But manifesting it… that's still insane."
He reached for his wooden training sword. Green energy flowed around him smoothly, like it always did, wrapping the blade in a calm, steady glow.
"Energy coat… at least this much is fine," he said, doing a couple of test swings. "Couldn't do it before. If I use the blue energy to force it out, I can maintain it in a real fight."
The green faded. He inhaled deeply.
Time for the risky part.
Blue energy surged toward the sword.
Halfway down the length of the blade—
Crack.
"…Ah—come on!"
The sword snapped apart, scattering across the floor.
Michael stared at the broken pieces, exasperated. Then he sighed.
"Luckily it was wooden… No wonder Smith told me not to use it. I… definitely put too much power into it."
He picked up one of the broken pieces and turned it between his fingers.
"At least I'm getting better," he said quietly. "Even if it still breaks everything…"
He looked toward the window, the moonlight shining faintly into his room.
"Tomorrow… I really hope this is enough."
He finally went to bed, but sleep didn't come easily. His heart beat with a mix of excitement and fear he didn't want to admit.
---
Morning came faster than expected.
Michael dressed in a fitted dark-blue combat jacket, a grey shirt underneath, black tactical pants, and light flexible boots—simple, practical, and made to move. He stared at himself in the mirror longer than usual, adjusting the collar, fixing a crease.
"Okay… that's fine," he whispered.
At the dining table, Smith ate calmly, barely looking up. Michael tried to eat but realized halfway he was chewing faster than usual.
Probably nerves.
"So… we're going now?" Michael asked, pushing his empty plate forward.
Smith stood up. "Yeah. Recruitment starts at nine. It's eight-twenty."
Michael blinked. "…Seriously? Isn't that tight?"
Smith grabbed his jacket. "Hyper train."
"Oh. Right." Michael sighed. "Then we're fine."
They left the house, catching a bus to the station. Michael tapped his foot the entire ride, unable to sit still.
Once they reached the hyper train platform, he looked around at the sleek metal rails humming with energy.
"The hyper train… one of the breakthroughs from celestial energy research," he narrated in his mind. "Six hundred miles per hour… and they still want to push it."
"There'll probably be people there before us," he said out loud.
"Of course," Smith replied. "Don't think about it."
Michael nodded, though his stomach twisted anyway.
The train shot forward like a streak of light. Even with the insane speed, Smith crossed his arms and muttered:
"Twenty minutes still feels long."
Michael laughed under his breath. "Yeah."
---
They arrived in front of the Riftguard headquarters, a skyscraper tall enough to disappear into the clouds. Michael swallowed as he stared up at it.
"I'm going this way," Smith said, stepping aside. "Head to the counter, give your name. They'll guide you."
"That's it…?" Michael said, but Smith was already moving toward an elevator. He sighed. "Should've expected that."
He approached the counter. "Excuse me. I'm here for recruitment. Michael Covar."
The receptionist typed quickly. "Area 5. Down the hall, to your right."
"Thank you."
He followed the directions, stepping into a large waiting room filled with candidates. Some glanced at him, sizing him up. Others whispered among themselves. Michael kept his eyes forward and found an empty seat.
"You're using that sword for recruitment?" a boy beside him suddenly said. "It looks cool."
Michael blinked, surprised. "Oh—um. Thanks."
"Sorry for the sudden talk," the boy continued with a grin. "Thomas Tepson."
"Michael Covar. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. But that sword… it's kinda outdated. Surprised to see something not made from star metal."
"…Outdated?" Michael said, caught off guard.
"Yeah. Most weapons now use star metal. Really rare to see anything else."
Michael froze for a second.
Years of training… and I never researched this once? Really?
"Well shit," he muttered internally.
"Smith gave me this one," he said aloud. "It should still work, right?"
"Smith?" Thomas blinked. "Then yeah. It'll work. But—"
A loud automated voice cut him off.
"The Riftguard recruitment will now begin."
The front wall opened mechanically, revealing five doors.
Everyone shifted nervously.
Michael felt something in his pocket and pulled out a tag.
"167…? When did they—how—?"
"Probably when you walked in," Thomas whispered. "Some machine scanned you."
Michael stared at the tag.
I didn't notice anything…
He wasn't the only one confused—half the room looked shocked.
Time passed. Numbers were called. One by one, people went in.
Then—
"167. Michael Covar."
Michael stood, exhaling slowly, hand tightening on his sword.
Alright… let's do this.
---
Inside the dark testing room, a screen lit up softly.
"Place your hand on the panel and release your energy," the voice instructed.
Michael swallowed and placed his hand down.
Only green. Don't show them blue yet.
Thirty percent of green energy flowed out.
The screen flashed:
GREEN — 30%
Michael's eyes widened. "It… reads the percentage?"
In the control room, examiners watched him closely.
"Michael Covar, correct?" the overseer said.
"Yes. Recommended by Mr. Smith."
"But he's only thirty percent?" another scoffed. "Why recommend someone this weak?"
"It's Smith. He must've seen something."
"Hmph. We'll see."
---
"Next phase: combat test," the voice in Michael's room announced. "Holographic monsters will appear. They are imbued with celestial energy. They can still harm you. Defeat them. If you cannot continue, declare you quit."
Michael took his stance, exhaling steadily.
Spider-like beasts the size of bears materialized around him.
Okay… focus…
Green energy coating his limbs, Thought Acceleration activating—
He dashed forward.
The first beast split in half before it moved.
The second lost its head.
The rest fell one after another, fast and clean.
In the control room:
"Impressive skill," the overseer murmured. "Even with weak energy, he compensates well."
"He's easily C-rank," someone added.
"He should grow quickly to B."
"Increase difficulty," the overseer ordered. "Let's see his limits."
A woman watching behind them smiled faintly. "Another candidate earlier had A-rank ability. If he keeps this up, he might meet you in S-rank."
She smirked. "Maybe. But I'll beat the difference into him first."
---
Back in the arena, Michael gritted his teeth.
"They're stronger now… great."
He dodged narrowly and exhaled.
Time to use the coat.
Green energy coated his sword again, glowing sharply.
"That little energy… and he can maintain a coat?" one examiner muttered. "Definitely C-rank."
Michael rushed forward, slicing through monsters with increased speed and precision. Each swing carried more weight; each movement felt sharper.
Minutes dragged.
When the final monster dissolved, Michael stood still, shoulders rising and falling.
A soft chime sounded.
"You have passed."
Michael lowered his sword slowly, staring at the door unlocking ahead.
A small smile formed—relief, disbelief, pride all mixing together.
I'm finally a step closer… to becoming a Riftguard.