The night started peacefully enough. Despite the tension of their new surroundings, everyone eventually found sleep—except for Ethan and Ben. The younger boys sat huddled on one bunk, wide-eyed as the strange man in the corner mumbled incoherently in his sleep.
At first, the sounds were low, barely more than whispers, but they grew louder as the night went on. Disjointed phrases tumbled from his lips, his tone shifting wildly between anger and fear.
"Stay away… they're coming… no, no, NO!"
Ethan clutched his brother tightly, his voice trembling. "Zack… can't you make him stop?"
Zack sighed from his bunk, glancing over at the man thrashing slightly in his sleep. "It's not worth it. Just try to ignore him."
But the boys couldn't. They spent most of the night in a restless haze, their exhaustion evident by the time the first rays of sunlight crept through the cracks in the building.
The guards' wake-up call was abrupt. They banged on the doors, shouting for everyone to get up and gather outside in the dirt field.
Most of the room stirred reluctantly, dragging themselves from their bunks—except for the unstable man.
As soon as the guards entered, he bolted upright, his eyes wild. "No! I won't go! You can't make me!"
He screamed, flailing his arms as one of the guards stepped forward. "I'm not useless! I can help! Just let me—"
The guard cut him off with a sharp glare. "Enough."
Without hesitation, two guards grabbed him by the arms, dragging him kicking and screaming from the room.
Ethan and Ben watched in terrified silence, their pale faces turned toward Zack. "What are they going to do to him?" Ben whispered.
Zack's jaw tightened. "I don't know. But he's gone."
Josh muttered under his breath, "Scary how quickly they can decide that. What if it's one of us next?"
Zack didn't answer. The thought was one he didn't want to dwell on.
The dirt field was already packed when they arrived. Survivors stood in uneasy clusters, their eyes darting toward the stage at the far end. Standing atop it was a familiar figure—the man with the deadly aura, his presence as commanding as ever.
When he spoke, his voice carried effortlessly across the field.
"Today, you will receive your Ithra bands. These bands will determine your potential and reveal what abilities you may develop. For now, the bands will be restricted to this purpose only. We want you to adjust to society here slowly. Misuse of power leads to chaos, and chaos is something we cannot afford."
He paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd.
"If you are deemed useless, you will be thrown to the streets with only the minimum access to manual labor opportunities. Prove your worth, or you won't survive at all. This is the reality of our world."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, unease spreading like wildfire.
One by one, survivors were called to the stage to receive their Ithra bands. The process was straightforward: each person would wear the band, which would display their potential in glowing symbols visible to all.
The majority received low or average potential. The crowd's whispers grew louder with each person who failed to impress, frustration and disappointment clear in their faces.
Then it was Walter's turn.
The elderly man stepped onto the stage with a spring in his step, his cheerful demeanor unshaken. When he placed the band on his wrist, it glowed brightly, the symbol of high potential shimmering in the air.
The crowd gasped.
Walter grinned, turning to face the others. "Looks like I've still got it!"
His friend Edgar wasn't as lucky. When his turn came, the band displayed average potential, earning him a reassuring pat on the shoulder from Walter as he descended the stage.
Time dragged on as more survivors took their turns. Only a handful achieved high potential, their names were quickly noted by the guards.
Eventually, Josh's name was called.
He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, glancing back at Zack. "Wish me luck," he muttered.
Zack nodded, his expression serious.
Josh climbed onto the stage and slipped the band onto his wrist. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a faint glow appeared, the symbol for low potential shimmering dimly in the air.
The crowd's murmurs grew louder, a mix of pity and judgment.
Josh forced a smile as he removed the band and stepped off the stage. He didn't look at Zack or anyone else as he returned to his place.
"Low potential," he muttered under his breath. "Figures."
Zack placed a hand on his shoulder but said nothing.
Finally, Zack's name was called.
He made his way to the stage, the weight of hundreds of eyes on him. Josh gave him a quick nod of encouragement, but Zack barely noticed. His focus was on the Ithra band waiting for him.
He slipped it onto his wrist, and the moment it clicked into place, a brilliant light erupted from it. The symbol for peak potential blazed in the air, brighter than any that had come before it.
The crowd erupted into murmurs, their shock palpable. Even the man with the deadly aura raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.
Zack stepped down from the stage, his mind racing. Whatever this meant, it was clear that his journey was only beginning.