"We often assume that, faced with a threat, human beings generally tend to want to eliminate it."
Aaron Stelar.
——————-
Zikron descended into the waiting area, his face expressionless despite the growing excitement within him.
With a simple tilt of his head, he noticed all the young people present staring at him. Among them, a girl with dark crimson hair, ink-black eyes, and an oval, harmonious face stepped forward. Beside her, another young girl with black hair and a round face accompanied her.
— Sery? I'm glad to see you again, Zikron said, a smile crossing his lips.
Sery locked eyes with Zikron, knelt before him, and declared:
— I greet the young master.
— I've already told you that such formalities between us are unnecessary, Zikron replied with a sigh.
— W-Well… G-Good morning, young master, stammered Laura, lowering her head.
— Good morning, Zikron replied with a slight smile before turning his attention back to Sery, now standing at his right.
— Has anyone caught your attention? he asked with a hint of excitement.
After a moment of reflection, Sery observed the candidates and pointed to around fifty students.
— I see, Zikron responded.
Zikron noticed movement beside him, accompanied by hushed whispers.
"So that's the youngest of the Zeta family?"
"Does he think he's better than us?"
He felt a slap on his back and turned to see who had the nerve to hit him, though he already had a pretty good idea.
"Zikron! How's it going, buddy?" Elyone exclaimed cheerfully.
Elyone had rushed over the moment he saw him, followed closely by Lunar and Ayla. A small circle had formed around them, as no one dared approach the imperial children while they were together.
"I'm fine. And you?" Zikron replied, shaking his head with a tired expression. He shifted his attention to Lunar, who was staring straight into his eyes. No words were exchanged, but a faint smile appeared on Lunar's face.
"When you're done fooling around, do let me know," Ayla said, looking at them with an annoyed expression.
Just then, a man stepped forward, holding a microphone, and addressed the crowd in a loud, authoritative voice:
— Your attention, please. The exam will begin shortly. Before that, I must inform you that you will be teleported to an area protected by the academy. Please take the badges being distributed by security and place them visibly on your person. The exam will consist of three stages: physical, theoretical, and strategic. Teams may be formed, but it is not mandatory.
He paused briefly to allow everyone to collect their badges and process the information. Once the crowd's attention returned, he continued:
— Your badges will transmit everything you see in real-time. If you encounter a life-threatening situation, the badge will immediately transport you back here.
A young boy raised his hand, drawing the organizer's attention.
— A question?
— What happens if we don't make it to the end of the test? the boy asked, his voice tinged with slight nervousness.
— In that case, unless by some miracle, your potential will be deemed unworthy of further consideration. Anything else? the man replied, a trace of irritation in his tone.
The boy remained calm as murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Lunar, who had been listening attentively, suddenly had a thought and raised his hand. The organizer, clearly eager to wrap things up, frowned at the sight of another raised hand. However, when he realized who it was, his demeanor changed immediately.
with utmost politeness, his tone almost deferential.
Ignoring the organizer's courtesy, Lunar replied, his voice calm but laced with a sharp edge of curiosity:
"Can artificial intelligence truly evaluate us accurately?"
The organizer blinked, momentarily caught off guard. For this boy to already deduce that the evaluation would not come from human overseers but from AI itself was impressive—but not entirely unexpected. After all, this was Lunar Lumen, a name that carried weight. Collecting himself, the man nodded and responded:
"The AI will assess you based on your performance, decisions, logic, and individual strength. The first phase will begin in five seconds. Each phase will last 1 hour and 30 minutes. Best of luck to all of you."
Without further warning, the students were teleported into pristine white rooms. The spectators gasped as a massive holographic screen materialized before them, displaying multiple live feeds from different perspectives. They quickly realized there were 15 rooms, each holding 50 participants.
Among the dignitaries observing, whispers rippled through the air. The most powerful leaders of the seven empires exchanged glances as they noticed something peculiar.
"The children aren't in the same room," one remarked, disappointment clear in their voice. "Pity. That would've settled things quickly."
"That said," added Krys Dantes with a smirk, "we still haven't decided what's at stake. What are you prepared to wager, Azhel?"
The ruler of the Zeta family remained silent, his gaze fixed on the screen.
"Azhel, your silence speaks volumes," Krys teased, leaning back in his chair. "What's wrong? Has the mighty Zeta lost faith in his own son?"
Azhel's response was cold, detached: "Your provocations are wasted on me."
Before Krys could retort, Leonord Lumen interjected, his tone calm but commanding:
"I propose a simple wager. The family whose child places last will cede one of their territories. If that seems excessive, we can settle for gold or weapons of exceptional quality. What say you all?"
Azhel glanced at Pery Zeyran, who inclined his head. "That works for me," he said.
"I agree," the others echoed in turn.
"Perfect," Krys concluded, his smile sharp.
In one of the rooms, Zikron stood still, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings. He quickly discerned the nature of the trial. A robotic woman's voice echoed through the space:
"Participants may choose a weapon or opt for disarmament. The trial is a battle royale between the 50 participants. The last ten survivors will move on to the next phase. The others will receive medical attention but will be eliminated from the competition."
Zikron's thoughts raced. He thinks for a moment before making his choice.
Approaching the weapons array, he chooses a sword, thrusts it into the ground and leans on it, closing his eyes as if uninterested in what was to come.
This singular demonstration immediately attracts the attention of his peers. Several competitors whisper to each other, doubt and mischief creeping into their voices:
"Why don't a bunch of us take him out? He's technically ranked number one here, but even he can't take us all on at once. We have the advantage."
The murmurs grow louder as their plan becomes clearer. A young man with an ironic smile steps forward and addresses Zikron:
"Young master, forgive us, but you must understand. You're stronger than all of us, so it's only logical that we eliminate you first."
Zikron slowly opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the boy. His calm demeanor betrayed no emotion as he asked,
"What's your name?".
"Ester", replied the boy, his smile widening.
For a moment, Zikron felt a slight chill. Ester's face was strangely sinister - her half-closed eyes and wide, eerie smile gave her the air of someone who feeds on chaos. Far from being intimidated, Zikron began to smile, excitement evident in his eyes.
"Ester, isn't it? You did well to gather your allies against me," Zikron said, his voice cold but tinged with amusement. "Like you said, I'm number one. So let's give it everything we've got."
The race began with a thunderous roar of footsteps and battle cries, as a wave of competitors surged past him. To the spectators, victory for the crowd seemed inevitable.
But something unexpected happened.
Zikron left his sword buried in the ground.
Unarmed, he stepped forward, his calm smile unwavering, his entire presence exuding quiet provocation.
In the observation room, Empress Yelena laughed, her tone tinged with sarcasm:
"He's bold, I'll give him that. But isn't he overconfident? I think you've already lost your bet. There's no point looking all the way.
Zoey, who was observing the scene impassively, replied coldly: "Empress, you know better than to count chickens before they hatch."
The other dignitaries raised an eyebrow at Zoey's assurance, their interest piqued.
Empires and noble families returned their attention to the screen, their curiosity now piqued. Was the "young dragon" really capable of turning things around?
In the white room, Zikron suddenly began to move. His silhouette turned into a trail of speed and he dashed towards the oncoming crowd. Before they could react, he struck.
In one fluid motion, Zikron dispatched two competitors with the back of his palm. The blows were swift, precise and devastating.
One of them, to the chin, knocked him out cold.
A sword flew at him, thrown desperately by another contestant aiming for his head. Zikron twisted, dodging the blade with ease before launching a brutal kick into the attacker's neck.
Another participant approached him from the front - too slowly. Zikron slammed the heel of his palm under the man's chin, knocking the breath out of him and forcing him to bite his tongue. He collapsed, choked with pain, unable to scream.
Behind Zikron, a hulking figure smiled, certain he'd found the perfect opening.
Stealthily, he advanced, convinced that the dragon hadn't noticed him. But his confidence shattered in an instant when Zikron pivoted and drove a foot into his chest with bone-crushing force.
The man stumbled back, gasping for air.
Seizing the moment, Zikron flipped backward in an acrobatic display of agility, evading the next wave of attacks. As he descended, he grabbed two heads mid-air and slammed them into the ground with inhuman force.
The impact left both contestants unconscious, their defeat instantaneous and absolute.
At the back of the room, Ester stood frozen, his once-confident grin now replaced with a pale, horrified expression.
"He's a monster," Ester mutters under her breath.
"No wonder he's an heir. It was supposed to be simple... If they'd managed to weaken him, I could have delivered the coup de grace. But now... there's no opening. He's watching me all the time."
It would have allowed me to shine, he thought with a hint of irritation.
Ester let out a shaky sigh, scratching his head with a nervous laugh and muttering to himself:
"I really hate geniuses."
Fifteen minutes passed.