Chapter 211: 211 | A Hero Who Cannot Run A Mile Will Die
"Exactly. And then strength testing, agility drills, probably some sparring if she’s feeling particularly sadistic." He shrugged. "Good news is I’ve been training specifically to be mediocre at all of those things, so expectations are already managed."
"You’re doing the underperformance thing deliberately," Felicity said. It wasn’t a question.
"I prefer to think of it as sustainable pacing." Caden’s grin widened. "Why show everything on day one? Save some surprises for when they actually matter."
"That’s either very smart or very stupid," Felicity said.
"The line between those is thinner than people think." He turned to me. "You’re doing the same thing, right? Steele called you out on it. Your entrance exam performance versus your demo today, there’s a gap there that she noticed."
"Everyone noticed," I said.
"Yeah, but most people are too polite to mention it." Caden’s eyes held something sharper than his casual demeanor suggested. "I’m not most people."
"We keep having this conversation today."
"Because it keeps being relevant." He clapped me on the shoulder with easy familiarity. "Look, I don’t care what you’re hiding. Felicity doesn’t care what you’re hiding. Half the people in this cohort are hiding something. That’s just how hero academies work. You take a bunch of teenagers with dangerous abilities and a lot of complicated feelings about those abilities and you throw them in a competitive environment where hiding weakness is survival instinct."
He gestured at the field, at Petra isolated on the bleachers and Nyx taking notes in her corner and Rina hovering at the edge of a group that probably wanted her included more than she believed they did.
"Everyone here has secrets. The question isn’t who’s hiding what. The question is whether you can trust each other anyway."
It was a surprisingly insightful observation from someone who spent most of his visible bandwidth on being the class clown.
"You’re smarter than you act," I said.
"Absolutely." Caden grinned without apology. "And I act the way I act because it’s more fun and nobody expects anything from the guy who’s always making jokes. Lower expectations, lower pressure, more freedom to operate."
"The strategic cowardice principle."
"Applied to all aspects of life." He turned back to Felicity with obvious interest, his casual energy shifting into something more intentional without losing any of its warmth. "So. Felicity. After this assessment concludes and Steele releases us from captivity, what are your plans for the evening? Because I know a place that makes incredible ramen and I’m absolutely shameless about asking attractive women to have dinner with me."
"You’re really just saying that out loud," Felicity said, though the faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth suggested she was entertained rather than offended.
"Why wouldn’t I? Life’s too short for subtlety." Caden spread his hands in a gesture of complete transparency that probably concealed exactly as much as he wanted it to. "I think you’re gorgeous, I think you’re interesting, and I’d like to get to know you better in a setting that doesn’t involve our terrifying instructor evaluating our every movement. If you’re not interested, say so and I’ll respect that completely. But I figured I’d shoot my shot while the opportunity presented itself."
Felicity studied him for a moment, her blue eyes assessing something I couldn’t quite read. There was calculation happening underneath the surface warmth that suggested she was running considerably more analysis than her presentation indicated.
"Ask me again after the mile run," she said. "If you can still talk after running a mile with Steele watching, I’ll consider it."
"Deal." Caden’s grin was triumphant. "Prepare to be impressed by my cardiovascular endurance."
"I’ll manage my expectations accordingly."
Steele’s voice cut across the field before Caden could respond. "Class 1-B. Physical evaluations begin now. Everyone to the track."
The scattered students began moving toward the track that bordered the east edge of Field Epsilon, a standard four-hundred-meter oval with lane markings that looked freshly painted.
I fell into step beside Felicity and Caden, watching the rest of the cohort assemble around the starting line. Percy had his notebook out and was scribbling something, probably timing calculations or optimal pacing strategies. Camille was stretching with the intensity of someone who intended to win whatever race was about to happen. Rina looked like she was considering whether she could hide inside her own wool and avoid the entire evaluation.
Steele stood at the edge of the track with her tablet, waiting for everyone to find positions.
"Mile run," she announced. "Four laps. No Aspect use unless your Aspect is permanently active and cannot be suppressed. Branded students, you know who you are. Everyone else, this is a baseline physical evaluation. I want to see what your bodies can do without powers helping."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"A hero who cannot run a mile is a hero who will die in the field. Your Aspect is not a substitute for physical conditioning. It is a supplement to it. If your body fails before your power does, your power cannot save you."
Nobody argued. Nobody joked. Even Caden’s perpetual grin had faded into something more focused.
"Line up," Steele said. "On my signal."
I took a position near the middle of the pack, not wanting to draw attention by placing myself at the front with the obvious competitors. Camille was at the starting line like she intended to set a record. Caden stood beside Marco, both of them exchanging looks that suggested they had some kind of side bet happening. Felicity found a spot near me, her ponytail swaying as she settled into a runner’s stance.
"Don’t embarrass yourself," she murmured.
"I never do."
Steele raised her hand.
The afternoon sun beat down on Field Epsilon, warm and indifferent to the twenty students about to test their limits. Somewhere on the other side of campus, Class 1-A was probably doing the same thing under Vincent Hale’s supervision. Sloane was probably crushing her own evaluation while mentally tracking where I was and what I was doing.
The thought made me smile.
"Begin."
