The test began before Malik even touched the ability user. The rules had been simple in theory: take your team's crest-stitched flag to the other side of the field. First team to plant it in the opposing base wins. Sounds easy.
But nothing at Continental Academy ever stayed simple.
The battlefield was an open dome arena—half forest, half rubble zone—with scattered ruins, broken towers, and fake terrain for cover. A perfect ground for chaos.
Before the flags were even secured, the Fighting Maniacs—the rival team notorious for their aggression—had already launched into action. Their strategy was brutally straightforward: take out the strongest players first.
The Falcon Team had expected something clever. They hadn't expected raw force.
Margaret had barely reached the mid-point when it happened. Three opponents surrounded her—one with stone fists, another manipulating air currents, and the last, a whisper-thin boy with venomous vines curling from his sleeves.
Malik, stationed in the rear as part of the fallback group, saw it all unfold. His job was simple, they said—retrieve and run. But the path was already messy.
He hesitated. Was this really his moment? No one believed in him anyway.
But when Margaret screamed, his legs moved on instinct.
That's when he saw a boy launching a wave of water at one of his teammates. Malik reached out and grabbed the boy's wrist.
A pulse ran through his body—then nothing.
He froze.
"Now what?"
Silence. No voice came.
Was I imagining everything before? The doubt itched under his skin.
Frustrated but focused, Malik changed course and bolted straight toward the flag. Everyone else was locked in battle. No one was watching him—finally, an opening.
He grabbed the flag and dashed.
But just when he thought the way was clear, three cadets stood blocking the finish zone.
"Hand over the flag," the tallest one growled, his eyes glowing orange.
Malik skidded to a stop. He wasn't built for direct combat. That was the whole point of keeping him back.
I could just… hand it over, he thought.
But the memory of his team's disappointed glances—Margaret's voice reminding him to try, if nothing else—echoed through his skull.
He gripped the flag tighter.
Lost in his thoughts, a punch landed square on his cheek.
It sent him stumbling back, stars flashing behind his eyes.
The second came from behind—faster, harder. The boy's hand was coated in obsidian—a hardening ability meant to knock him out cold.
But this time… Malik moved. His instincts kicked in. He turned just in time and grabbed the boy's fist mid-swing, stopping it inches from his face.
Time slowed. He could feel it—the hardening, like stone encased in flesh. He didn't know how, but he knew. The moment he clenched his own fingers, the boy's bones cracked.
"AHH!" the cadet screamed, dropping to the ground.
The second opponent jumped back, now wary. Flames burst to life in his palms as he hurled a fireball straight at Malik.
Malik flinched. His arms came up in reflex—and suddenly, a barrier of water rose in front of him, steam hissing as fire met liquid.
"What the—?!" the boy gasped, eyes wide.
The leader of the trio, a boy known for being invisible more often than seen, froze in shock. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but he didn't. Instead, he vanished.
Gone.
Malik lowered his hands, breath heaving. He looked at the steam, at his hands, at the two groaning cadets.
Then he laughed.
Not a cocky laugh—just pure disbelief.
"I can activate more than one ability?" he whispered.
He jumped up, giddy. Then caught himself.
He coughed, straightened his back, and walked to the finish line, trying to pretend like his heart wasn't about to leap out of his chest.
But he couldn't hide the smile stretched across his face.
As he crossed the final line and planted the flag, sirens blared across the arena.
Trial Complete. Falcon Team Wins.
The instructors' voices crackled over the comms, mixed with scattered gasps from the spectators who had watched it all unfold on the screens above.
The dust hadn't even settled when the scoreboard lit up with cold, blinking letters:
FALCON TEAM — 50 POINTS
CHAMP TEAM — 0 POINTS
Gasps rippled through the watching students. No one had expected it—Falcon, the academy's laughing stock, the team ranked dead last in every single trial… had just crushed one of the strongest squads on the field.
Malik stood off to the side, fingers still trembling, the adrenaline only just beginning to fade from his system. His cheek ached from the punch, but he barely noticed. His eyes remained locked on the score, part of him wondering if this was all a dream—if at any moment someone would tell him he wasn't supposed to win.
Margaret limped toward him from the sidelines, a cut bleeding down her eyebrow but a proud grin stretched across her face.
"You did it," she said under her breath. "You actually did it."
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.
The instructor's voice echoed across the arena, dry and unimpressed. "Next round. Ravin Team versus Echo Team."
A new team entered the arena.
This time, the Ravin Team used a completely different strategy. Instead of splitting up and hunting the flag separately like most teams had, they moved as a single unit—tight, disciplined, silent. A wolf pack in formation.
The Echo Team didn't stand a chance. They'd divided early, each chasing rumors of Ravin's location. But no one could find their flag, no matter how hard they searched.
That's because Ravin's flag carrier had been cloaked, protected in the center of their formation the entire time. By the time Echo realized what was happening, it was too late. Their own flag had already been stolen and planted.
One by one, the remaining matches played out. Some were brilliant. Others descended into chaos. By the end of the day, all thirty-two teams had completed the trial.
And for the first time, Falcon was not at the bottom.
And even they weren't sure how to explain it.
Malik—who days ago had been avoided like a virus. He was the anomaly, the "blank," one without ability. No aura spikes, no flashy powers. Just… nothing.
But now, the stares had changed.
The whispers had turned into wide-eyed glances, into nods of respect, into hesitant questions.
"Was that really him?"
"He took out three of them alone."
"Did you see the water? But I thought he didn't have an ability…"
"I heard he used two abilities,"
"But one could only have one,"
Malik tried not to listen. But it was hard not to notice.
Especially when even the instructors began to eye him differently.