Chapter 389:Dillian

Chapter 389: 389:Dillian

Current performance rankings appeared. It wasn’t final admission rankings, only the best recorded performances from the Soul Pressure Examination so far.

He wasn’t near the top, which wasn’t surprising. He’d performed well but with more than two thousand candidates, some monsters were inevitable.

A name appeared in first position.

[CURRENT HIGHEST EVALUATION PERFORMANCE]

[DILLIAN] ℴ

[SOUL CAPACITY: 17]

[CONTRACTOR RANK: 2]

Antony stared in shock.

"Seventeen."

Rebecca looked up.

"Rank Two too."

A murmur spread across the recovery yard. Someone nearby spoke excitedly.

"That’s him."

Antony turned.

A group of candidates were looking toward another exit.

"Who’s him?"

One of them pointed.

"That guy. Dillian. He was in one of the earlier groups."

Antony followed the gesture. For only a moment, he saw him; a young man walking away from the recovery section with three women nearby.

He looked tired, like everyone else, although noticeably less exhausted than most people who had completed the final pressure stage.

Antony looked back at the board.

"Dillian."

The name meant absolutely nothing to him. He searched his memory but nope, never heard it.

Rebecca glanced over.

"You know him?"

"No."

"You looked like you recognized the name."

"I was wondering if I should."

She shrugged.

"Maybe he’s from one of the major Contractor families."

Antony looked toward Dillian again. The young man was already disappearing into the crowd.

"Maybe."

Then Antony forgot about him. There were more important things happening like his legs threatening to stop functioning.

He returned to his male form once his core settled enough to handle another transformation, then he sat on the ground without a care for decorum.

Approximately an hour later, all examination groups had finished. The surviving candidates were assembled in the same yard again.

The number on the central display changed.

[GENERAL-ENTRY CANDIDATES REMAINING: 1,218]

More than eight hundred gone from one examination.

Someone behind him whispered, "That’s insane."

Another answered, "We’re not even halfway through Day One."

He slowly turned.

"What?"

The second candidate looked at him.

"You didn’t know?"

"Know what?"

"This isn’t the only test today."

He visibly paled.

Rebecca, standing beside him, sighed.

"I told you my brother said it would be worse."

He stood up and looked toward the front platform as an officer walked onto it. Candidates gradually became quiet.

"One thousand two hundred and eighteen candidates have successfully completed the first evaluation. Those who failed will receive individual performance reports within seventy-two hours. If you believe your evaluation was terminated due to equipment malfunction, appeals may be filed through the academy admissions office. Disliking your score is not grounds for appeal."

Several candidates looked unhappy.

The officer continued.

"Successful candidates will receive a forty-five-minute recovery period."

Relief spread through the crowd.

Antony smiled.

"Finally."

Then the officer continued.

"At the conclusion of that period, Day One’s second evaluation begins."

The relief disappeared.

He looked toward Rebecca, she didn’t look surprised.

"I hate your brother."

"You haven’t met him."

"I still blame him. He should have told you every nitty gritty detail before you came here. Would save us a lot of wondering."

She rolled her eyes without even looking towards her.

The officer gestured toward the enormous structures beyond the yard.

A set of reinforced gates began opening. Behind them was something Antony hadn’t properly noticed before.

There were buildings, roads, collapsed concrete, abandoned vehicles, towers, alleys, and sections of underground access.

It looked like a ruined district had been constructed inside the academy grounds.

Antony slowly stood straighter.

"What is that?"

The officer answered as though he’d heard him.

"Your first evaluation measured whether you can control your own power."

The massive gates continued opening. Something roared somewhere beyond them.

The candidates became silent.

The officer looked across the remaining 1,218.

"Your second evaluation will determine whether you know when to use it."

Antony stared into the artificial ruined district. A second roar came from somewhere between the buildings, this one sounded closer.

The officer continued.

"You have forty-five minutes." He stepped back. "Drink water. Eat. Restore what energy you can."

Then he delivered the part that wiped the remaining relief from Antony’s face.

"Because when those gates reopen, some of the things waiting on the other side will be trying to kill you."

---

Forty-five minutes sounded generous until Antony realized the academy expected them to use that time for everything at once.

They had to recover, eat, drink, have their cores checked if necessary, inspect their weapons, replace any training ammunition used during the first examination, and listen for their next assignment.

Furthermore, apparently, somehow convince themselves that walking voluntarily into an artificial ruined district containing actual beasts was a perfectly sensible way to spend the rest of their afternoon.

He sat on a concrete bench near the recovery yard with a packaged meal resting on one knee and a bottle of water in his other hand, staring toward the enormous gates separating the candidates from the combat district.

Something roared again.

He stopped chewing. Rebecca, sitting several places away with her spear case between her knees, didn’t even look up.

He swallowed.

"Nobody else is concerned that they keep roaring?"

She opened an energy bar.

"They’re beasts."

"I know they’re beasts. I’m questioning why the academy put them inside a fake city."

"Probably because putting them inside the cafeteria would be inconvenient."

He slowly turned toward her.

"Was that a supposed to be a joke?"

She bit into the bar.

"No."

He smiled.

"I’m beginning to like you."

"Please don’t."

He laughed and returned to his meal.

His core still felt strange after the pressure examination. Not damaged, exactly, but tired in a way he wasn’t accustomed to.

Drawing power from it remained easy enough, yet he could feel the difference between his normal reserves and what remained after repeatedly maintaining controlled output under pressure, manipulating objects, firing weapons, enduring attacks and transforming at the final stage.

He’d already switched back into his male form. It was more comfortable for recovery, mostly because it was the body he’d spent most of his life using.

The examiner’s advice remained in his thoughts.

Strength when strength is needed. Speed when speed is needed.