The Monday morning sun barely peeked through the Academy's training grounds as students filed in for their first practical session. The weekend had done little to diminish the buzz from the testing results, and if anything, the anticipation for actual practice had intensified the atmosphere.
The training arena was a massive circular space with reinforced walls, various terrains, and obstacle courses. Combat zones were marked with glowing blue lines, and survival simulation pods lined the eastern wall. Professor Stanley Marx, today being a stern-faced man with silver-streaked hair, stood at the center.
"Keepers," his voice carried across the arena, "today we begin your practical training. Your scores may indicate potential, but it's what you do here that truly matters." His eyes swept across the gathered students, lingering momentarily on Asher, who tried to shrink further into the background.
Steven Fletcher was the first to step forward when they called for combat demonstrations. His 900 points weren't just numbers – his hands glowed with an intense blue energy as he faced the training dummy. "Watch and learn, peasants," he smirked, before launching into a series of impressive energy projections. The dummy, designed to withstand significant impact, actually stumbled backward. Several students applauded, much to Steven's obvious delight.
"Excellent energy control, Mr. Fletcher," Stanley noted, "though perhaps less showboating next time."
Derek was next, and the difference in approach was striking. Where Steven had been all flash and showmanship, Derek moved with calculated precision. His true name "Ryker" seemed to shimmer in the air around him as he demonstrated his abilities. The training dummy didn't just stumble – it completely disintegrated under his controlled assault.
"Remarkable restraint and precision, Derek," Stanley nodded approvingly. "This is how you maximize efficiency with minimal energy expenditure."
The class moved on to survival simulations. Yuno stepped into one of the pods, his face concentrated as the virtual scenario began. While his physical combat had been average, his strategic thinking shone through. The simulation presented a crisis situation – a collapsed building with civilians trapped inside and a rogue keeper on the loose.
"Extraordinary problem-solving, Mr. Minho," Stanley commented as Yuno successfully evacuated all virtual civilians while neutralizing the threat through clever environmental manipulation. "Sometimes the best solution isn't the most obvious one."
Kira's performance was nothing short of spectacular. Her perfect score translated into perfect execution across all challenges. During the combat demonstration, her movements were fluid and powerful. In the survival simulation, she showed both strength and wisdom. But it was during the team exercise that she truly shined, naturally taking charge and guiding others.
"Kira" Stanley called, "exceptional work on all fronts. Your leadership qualities are particularly noteworthy."
Then came Asher's turn. The surge in his stomach had been growing stronger all morning, almost as if responding to the displays of power around him. But when he stepped up to the combat zone, nothing happened. His attempts at energy projection produced barely a spark. The training dummy stood unmoved, almost mockingly.
"Mr. Reeds," Stanley's voice was neutral, "please move to the survival simulation."
The simulation wasn't any better. In the virtual scenario, Asher struggled with basic keeper protocols. His decisions, while logical, lacked the power to execute them effectively. Whispers started circulating among the students.
"Maybe they made a mistake letting him in," someone muttered.
"Ten points might have been generous," another added.
Steven's voice carried the loudest: "Hey Reeds, maybe you should try the civilian evacuation scenario – as one of the civilians!"
But something strange happened during the team exercise. While Asher couldn't contribute any power, his strategic suggestions, quietly offered to his team members,in his mind were surprisingly insightful. Kira, surprisingly herself dis what he would have done implementing several of his ideas with remarkable success.
During a particularly challenging scenario, when everyone was focused on a frontal assault against a virtual threat, it was Asher who noticed the pattern in the enemy's energy fluctuations. "The shield weakens every third pulse," he thought. "That's your window."
Kira's perfectly timed strike, based on his observation, ended the simulation with record efficiency.
Stanley's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He made a note in his tablet, then announced the end of the session. As students filed out, he held Asher back.
"Mr. Reeds," he said quietly, "power manifests in many ways. Keep your eyes open." Before he could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving him to ponder her words.
Later, in the changing rooms, Derek approached Asher. "You saw something none of us did today," he said simply.
"Fat lot of good it does when I can't do anything about it myself," Asher replied bitterly.
"Maybe," Derek smiled slightly, "or maybe you just haven't found your way yet."
The surge in Asher's stomach seemed to agree, pulsing with an intensity that left him breathless. As he watched his classmates leave, their powers still humming around them, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something obvious – something right in front of him.
Asher shrugged off the lingering feeling of unease, his feet carrying him back to his room with a mix of reluctance and habit. The cafeteria beckoned, its warm glow and bustling energy a stark contrast to the solitude he'd grown accustomed to.
As he entered, the room's vibrant atmosphere enveloped him, a cacophony of laughter and conversation that threatened to overwhelm. Every person flaunted their skills, regaling their peers with tales of triumph and woe from the day's practice sessions. The air pulsed with an undercurrent of rivalry, each individual eager to outdo their counterparts.
Asher filled his plate, the aromas of roasting meats and steaming vegetables tantalizing his senses. He claimed his usual seat, a spot nestled between familiarity and anonymity.
Kira arrived first, her demeanor eerily calm, like the stillness preceding a tempest. She slid into the chair beside him, her silence a jarring contrast to the boisterous surroundings. The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken understanding that something was amiss.
Minutes ticked by, each passing moment weighing heavier than the last. Asher's urge to speak grew, his curiosity piqued by Kira's uncharacteristic reserve. Yet, he resisted, sensing that the timing was off.
Derek and Yuno's absence only added to the unease, their empty chairs a stark reminder of the day's unsettling events.
After finishing their meals, Kira departed for the common area, her movements mechanical. Asher hesitated, then followed suit, his concern for her deepening with each step.
He sat beside her, the space between them thick with unspoken emotions. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyelids fluttering with genuine concern.
Kira's response was unexpected – tears streamed down her face, and she wept uncontrollably, her body shuddering under the weight of her grief. Asher sat frozen, unsure how to comfort her, his mind racing with the implications of her breakdown.
"What happened? Did someone say something?" he ventured, his words laced with empathy, his eyes scanning the surrounding area for potential witnesses.
Kira's gaze met his, but words failed her, her lips trembling as she struggled to contain her emotions. As curious eyes began to pierce through them, Asher grasped the situation and gently ushered her to the gardens, seeking solace in the tranquility of the evening air.
The moon cast an ethereal glow upon the lush greenery, the sound of gentle breezes rustling through the leaves a soothing balm for Kira's frazzled nerves. They sat amidst her shuffling tears, the silence between them a palpable, living entity.
Asher broke the silence, his words measured, "I'm no expert on feelings, but a wise woman once told me that tears are just a medium for the heart to speak. We must find a way to cure it by moving on." His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of conviction.
Kira's sniffles subsided, and she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, "It's funny you say you know nothing of comfort, yet your presence alone does more than that." Her eyes locked onto his, a deep sadness lingering within their depths.
Asher's gaze remained fixed on the roses, their beauty and fragrance a poignant reminder of life's fragile balance. Kira continued, her words spilling forth like a dammed torrent, "My grandfather passed away. He was my only family, my motivation for working hard. Now he's gone."
Her words dissolved into sobs once more, and Asher's eyes locked onto her swollen gaze, his heart heavy with empathy. "I'm sorry for your loss," he whispered, the simplicity of his words belied by the sincerity behind them.
As darkness descended, they sat in silence, the weight of Kira's grief palpable, a shared burden that transcended words.
Later, Asher retired to his room, took a soothing bath, and prepared to activate his plan for the first time that day. The wheels were in motion, and the consequences would be far-reaching.