Chapter 68: 68 | The Red Line and the End of the Tutorial
The female host nodded enthusiastically. "Sources close to the registration office confirm that Lukas Belmont recently updated his status from Unmarked to Channeler-type with a rare-tier Force Manipulation Aspect. Quite the late bloomer!"
"How the hell do they know that?" I hissed.
Sloane’s knuckles went white against the steering wheel. "Mom would never leak that."
"No," I agreed. "She wouldn’t."
"Who, then?"
My mind raced through possibilities. Dr. Weber? The receptionist with green hair? Someone at the IHL who accessed my updated file?
"Grande Dame," I said suddenly. "Remember how she took that selfie with me? She must have connections at the IHL registration office."
"That bitch."
"Doesn’t matter." I sank back against the seat. "They were going to find out anyway when I showed up for the exam."
The hosts moved on to discussing other applicants, but the damage was done. I was on the radar now. The son of two dead Heroes, recently manifested, applying to Halloran.
The countdown timer in my vision showed one hour, twelve minutes remaining.
"We’re almost there," Sloane said as traffic finally started moving. "You still okay?"
"Never better."
"Liar."
"It’s my best quality."
She reached over and squeezed my hand. Her fingers were warm against mine, and I felt something in my chest tighten.
"Look," she said. "There it is."
I followed her gaze and saw it rising from the Creston Hills like something out of a dream—the white geometry of Halloran Academy’s main campus. Clean lines. Glass and stone. A beacon visible from miles away by deliberate design, meant to be a constant reminder to Verano of what protected them.
It was both smaller and larger than I’d imagined. Smaller because no building could match the legendary status the academy held in my mind. Larger because it sprawled across the hillside like a small city, contained within white walls that seemed to glow in the morning sun.
"Pretty," I said.
"Scary," Sloane corrected. "Beautiful and terrifying. Mom says the architecture is psychological warfare. It’s designed to make you feel small when you approach it."
"Mission accomplished."
We inched closer, joining a line of cars turning onto the academy access road. Security checkpoints dotted the route, staff in Halloran uniforms checking credentials before waving vehicles through.
"You have your ID, right?" Sloane asked. "And your registration confirmation?"
"Yes, mom."
"I’m serious, Lukas. They won’t let you test without it."
"It’s in my pocket. I checked three times before we left."
We reached the first checkpoint. A woman in a crisp white uniform approached Sloane’s window.
"Applicants or observers?" she asked.
"Applicants," Sloane replied, handing over two confirmation emails displayed on her phone. "Sloane Fitzgerald and Lukas Belmont."
The woman checked her tablet, scrolling through what looked like a list of names.
"Fitzgerald... yes. Belmont... yes. Proceed to parking lot B. Follow the signs to the check-in station."
"Thank you."
As we pulled away, the countdown in my vision ticked down to forty five minutes.
"Almost there," Sloane said, her voice tight with excitement and nerves. "You ready to become a Hero, Belmont?"
"Born ready," I lied.
We parked in a massive lot already filled with expensive cars. Halloran applicants came from money, or at least most of them did. Those who didn’t tended to arrive by public transit or were dropped off by parents who couldn’t afford to leave a car in the visitor lot all day.
The check-in station stood at the edge of the parking lot—a white tent with the Halloran logo emblazoned on its side. A line of applicants stretched from its entrance, each dressed in athletic wear or custom-designed proto-hero outfits.
"God, look at these tryhards," Sloane whispered as we joined the line. "That guy’s wearing a cape. A cape!"
"It’s aerodynamic," I deadpanned.
"It’s stupid. Everyone knows capes get caught on things."
I tilted my head toward a girl further ahead in line. "What about her? She’s basically wearing a swimsuit."
"Her Aspect probably involves skin exposure. Some powers need direct contact with air."
"Or she’s hoping the judges are perverts."
Sloane elbowed me hard enough to make me grunt. "Don’t be gross."
"I’m observing strategic considerations."
"You’re observing her ass."
"That too."
The line moved slowly. Each applicant spent several minutes at the check-in desk before being waved through to the next stage. My countdown timer dipped below thirty minutes.
Whatever the System had planned, it was approaching fast.
"What do you think they’ll test us on?" I asked, trying to distract myself.
Sloane shrugged. "Combat, obviously. Crisis response. Aspect control. Decision-making under pressure. Mom says they’re looking for how we think more than what we can do."
"That’s comforting."
"Is it? Most people don’t think very well under pressure."
"Fair point."
We inched forward. Twenty minutes on the countdown. Then fifteen. Then ten.
I could see the check-in desk now. Two Halloran staff members sat behind it, processing applicants with robotic efficiency. They scanned IDs, checked registration confirmations, and handed out numbered badges that applicants pinned to their clothes before proceeding through a gate into the campus proper.
"Five minutes," I muttered, watching the timer.
"Until what?" Sloane asked.
"Until we’re at the front of the line."
"Oh. Yeah, probably."
Three minutes. Two minutes. One.
The System had been silent for two weeks. Whatever came next would be significant. A new quest? A forced ability usage? Something worse?
We reached the front of the line. One of the staff members waved us forward.
"IDs and confirmations, please," she said, not bothering to look up from her tablet.
Sloane handed over her documents. The woman scanned them, nodded, and passed Sloane a badge with the number 137 printed on it.
"Proceed through the gate. Follow the blue line to the combat staging area."
Sloane pinned her badge to her tracksuit and stepped aside, waiting for me.
I handed over my ID and confirmation email. The woman scanned them, then frowned at her tablet.
"Lukas Belmont," she said, looking up at me for the first time. "Recently reclassified from Unmarked to Channeler-type. Force Manipulation?"
"That’s me."
"Interesting." She tapped something on her screen. "Your registration flags you for additional verification at the secondary checkpoint. Please proceed through the gate and follow the red line, not the blue line."
My stomach dropped. "What? Why?"
"Late manifestations require additional verification before testing. It’s standard procedure."
"But I’ll still be able to take the exam, right?"
"Assuming your verification goes smoothly, yes." She handed me a badge with the number 138. "The red line. Secondary checkpoint. They’re expecting you."
I pinned the badge to my shirt, trying to keep my expression neutral.
"I’ll see you at the staging area," Sloane said, squeezing my arm. "Don’t worry. It’s just bureaucracy."
"Yeah. No problem."
We passed through the gate together, then faced a fork in the path. A blue line painted on the ground led straight ahead toward what looked like an arena. A red line branched right, leading to a smaller building set apart from the main campus.
"Go," I told Sloane. "I’ll catch up."
She nodded, though I could see worry in her eyes. "Don’t be late. The exam starts at eleven sharp."
"I’ll be there."
Sloane headed down the blue line, her ponytail bouncing with each step. I watched her go, then turned toward the red line.
The countdown timer in my vision showed three seconds.
Two.
One.
Zero.
〘 TUTORIAL COMPLETE. SCUMBAG SYSTEM ENTERING PHASE TWO. 〙
〘 PREPARING INITIALIZATION... 〙
Oh fuck.
