When Alexandre exited the forest, he found the huge crowd of prospective students had formed into neat military rows on one edge of the training grounds, which were surely over a kilometer long from end to end. He quickly followed suit and got into line. A podium had been erected nearby, facing the lines of candidates.
Before long, the two candidates he'd left on the ground in the forest also emerged and got staggered into place next to him. Both of them shot uneasy glances in his direction. Interestingly, seeing Alexandre's incredible combat skills—and, likely, the fact that he'd taken all the money which both of them had carried—almost seemed to have been a traumatic bonding experience for them!
But Alexandre was more concerned with something else: since he'd left, several hundred drones had appeared in the clearing and were hovering overhead. Before Alexandre could examine them more carefully, though, a man's rough voice came over the training grounds' loudspeaker.
"Everybody shut your traps! General Pantherson will now speak!"
A podium had been erected nearby, and all the Hunter Academy staff were arranged in a dignified way on either side of it. As he was announced, an old man in what was clearly a general's uniform stepped up to the podium.
He had an air of dignity about him, like an aged wolf or lion, and his appearance was indeed that of a seasoned predator: he was missing his left arm completely and had very little hair left. Underneath his military cap, most of his scalp seemed to be knobby scar tissue. This scarring extended down across his face, and he'd lost an eye in the middle of it.
The old man spoke up in a gravelly voice that suggested he'd sustained internal damage during his service. "Hello. I am General Pantherson. That is who I am, officially speaking, to the government. To my enemies, I am something more: the Rank A Hunter with the callsign White Wolf. To some of you, I will be even more significant: the director of Hunter Academy."
He took a long moment to leer at several candidates, staring them directly in the face with his single eye. "I am here today to explain exactly what the profession of Hunter consists of. I don't want to waste anybody's time, including my own!"
All the prospective students glanced at one another in surprise. After all, Hunter was the most prestigious profession in the world! Who would want to be anything different if they had the chance to become one?
"Hunters," the general continued, "are, first and foremost, private contractors with the United States Army. They are the defenders of humanity against those infected by Virus Z. They have the responsibility of intervening everywhere on the planet—including the Black Zone!
"But you all know that. Fame. Fortune. Power. All of that. Here's one thing the media won't tell you: most Hunters die violently before the age of thirty."
General Pantherson paused to let his words sink in. "I remind you that the upper age limit on applicants is not long before that. Look at me. See how I'm too mutilated by my service to return to active duty? I'm one of the lucky ones!"
He pointed a crooked finger at one young woman in the front row, who looked ready to cry. "The only reason to be a Hunter is to protect the interests of humanity! Are you here for glory and money? Then leave. You won't find it here. Only suffering, hardship, and self-sacrifice."
The general broke into a fit of coughing, but then twisted up the corner of his mouth into a savage grin. "Thank you all for listening to my speech. If you pass the exam, I will see you again. Good luck to all!"
The candidates broke into thunderous applause. After all, it was thanks to heroes like him that humanity had not totally disappeared during the Great Wave. Even the snobbiest and most arrogant youths in the crowd admired a hero like him.
After the general turned and hobbled off the stage, several other uniformed staff took his place. One of them was the instructor who had challenged Alexandre in the forest, the white-haired man called Omega.
"Greetings, candidates! I'm a Rank C Hunter of the name Omega, Professor of Competence at this academy. That means I orchestrate the tests which determine who becomes a student in 2036! Pay close attention, because I'm not going to explain it twice."
Alexandre listened intently as Omega's voice blared over the loudspeaker. The instructor was adding a goading edge to his voice, one which hadn't been present during their first confrontation. It seemed that he was trying to sting the pride of some of the more arrogant students… but was quite a calculating professor, probably taking in every detail of his prospective students, even from his position on the podium.
"Since you've had more than enough opportunity to jerk off all day," Omega continued, "You're no doubt eager to get your heart rates up and prove that you can be of even the tiniest shred of value to the military."
He gestured beyond the lines of candidates, where equipment and markers had been set up for the purpose of testing. "First, an endurance test. Then dexterity, then strength. Finally, a general knowledge test, on the unlikely chance that all of you put together happen to have more brain cells than a cockroach."
Omega paused for a moment, then let a malicious grin cover his face. "Oh, yes. One more little thing. Every year, we have a few minor accidents... Lacerations, broken bones, gouged-out eyes. The occasional torn-off limb. Casualties, sometimes, when a particularly stupid candidate shows up. You might be fighting for the chance for the United States government to make you its bitch, but we're not under their jurisdiction out here. If you die, we feed you to the sharks, and that's all there is to it. If you know you can't keep up and you value your life… Well, this ain't the place for you, sweetie!"
A long silence fell over the candidates. Then the muttering started up again.
"What a bunch of nuts..."
"I thought Hunters were treated like heroes, but apparently the military's just a bunch of assholes! I'm leaving!"
"I'm done with this! I've been waiting around for hours and they don't give a shit. Wanna come with me to the city? I need a Big Mac."
However, despite the many complaints, not many people actually left. After all, it was still at least an hour's walk just to get back to the beach! Almost everyone who had made it this far had enough resilience to stick out the challenge. All in all, only about a dozen young people left the crowd.
After it was clear that nobody else was going to leave, Omega nodded to a Hunter at his side, who pointed his finger into the air. Red energy pulsed around his arm and then shot into the air, burning red like a flare.
This was apparently the signal for two Hunters at either end of the training field to use cans of paint to lay down huge red lines that were exactly one kilometer apart.
"Let's get on with it!" said Omega. "In two minutes, the first event will begin! We call it 'The Shuttle.' You will all stand behind the starting line. There's plenty of space for everyone. When the signal is fired again, you will run as fast as you can to the far red line. Those who do not reach the line before the signal fires for the third time will be eliminated!"
He looked up at the drones in the air above the candidates. "Those who are eliminated will be announced on the loudspeaker by our AI, which is monitoring the field. I wish you all good luck!"
Omega's claim that there would be enough room for everyone was clearly sarcastic, as the candidates crowded each other as they tried to get as close as possible to the still-damp red line which served as their starting point. It seemed that the trial wasn't going to make it easy for anyone to simply focus on their own performance and ignore everyone else.
Then the Hunter who had previously fired into the air did it again. The bolt of energy let out a screaming whistle as it burst into the sky.
They started running.