Chapter 72: 72 | The Girl with the Mirage
I followed the yellow line north with a dozen other applicants, our footsteps echoing against polished concrete. The assessment auditorium rose ahead like a massive glass box, sunlight refracting through panels that were probably reinforced enough to survive a direct hit from a Legendary-tier Aspect.
The doors slid open automatically. Cold air hit my face, carrying the sharp scent of industrial cleaning solution mixed with something fruity. Inside, the space opened into a waiting area that looked more like a professional athlete’s lounge than a testing facility. Tables lined the far wall, loaded with sports drinks in every color, sliced oranges arranged in neat pyramids, bananas still green at the stems, protein bars, and what looked like custom energy gels in little packets.
My stomach growled. I’d been too nervous to eat much breakfast.
Fuck it. If I was going to fight robots or whatever insane test they’d designed, I needed fuel.
I grabbed a blue sports drink and two bananas, peeling one immediately. The first bite tasted better than it had any right to. Around me, other applicants moved through the space with varying degrees of composure. Most looked like they were heading to their own execution.
A guy with spiky blue hair stood near the drinks table, muttering to himself in a rapid stream of consciousness that I could hear from three feet away.
"Combat assessment means robots probably, everyone says robots, but what if it’s simulation, no wait Mom said they stopped using full sims after that lawsuit in 2019, okay so definitely robots, which means ranged attackers have advantage unless the environment is tight quarters, but Field 3 designation could mean anything, I can’t disappoint Dad, not after he pulled those strings to get me extra prep time with Coach Henricks—"
I bit into my second banana and watched him spiral. The kid looked about eighteen, maybe nineteen. His hands shook as he reached for a drink bottle, reconsidered, then grabbed it anyway.
"Huh. Seems like everyone is a little tense."
"I know right!"
I turned. A girl stood next to me, blonde hair falling in soft waves past her shoulders, blue eyes wide and bright. She wore pink athletic shorts that were definitely not regulation length and a white crop top that left very little to the imagination. Her body was curvy in all the right places, the kind of figure that made my newly upgraded stats feel entirely insufficient for processing.
She smiled at me like we’d been friends for years. "Like bestie, the vibes in here are lowkey tragic? Everyone’s acting like we’re about to fight actual Villains instead of robots."
"Maybe they know something we don’t," I said, finishing my banana.
"Nah, that’s just anxiety talking." She grabbed a sports drink, twisted it open, and took a long sip without breaking eye contact. "You look way more chill than everyone else though. Either you’re super confident or you literally don’t care."
"Option three. I’m too tired to be nervous."
She laughed, a genuine sound that turned a few heads. "Okay that’s so valid actually. I’m Felicity by the way. Felicity Hardy. Halloran hopeful, Aspect is Mirage, and before you ask, yes I can make illusions and no I won’t show you right now because apparently that’s ’against testing protocol.’" She made air quotes around the last part.
"Lukas Belmont."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Wait, Belmont? As in Vanguard and Reina Belmont?"
"Yeah."
"Oh my god." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to something resembling a whisper but still loud enough for half the room to hear. "I heard about you on the news this morning! They said you just manifested like two weeks ago after being Unmarked your whole life. That’s literally insane. What’s your Aspect?"
"Force Manipulation. Telekinesis variant."
"That’s so snatched though!" She bounced slightly on her toes, which did interesting things to her proportions that I tried very hard not to notice. "Like you’re out here defying probability and now you’re at Halloran. Main character energy for real."
I couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or making fun of me. Her expression suggested both simultaneously.
"What about your Mirage thing?" I asked, deflecting. "How does that work?"
"Oh it’s giving versatility, bestie." She held up her hand and I watched as a small, translucent butterfly materialized above her palm, wings fluttering with impossible colors before dissolving into nothing. "Full sensory illusions, visual plus audio plus even some scent if I push it. Super useful for crowd control and also for like, general chaos purposes."
"Chaos purposes?"
She grinned. "You’ll see."
A digital timer appeared on the massive screen at the front of the auditorium, numbers glowing red against black.
FIND YOUR SEATS: 03:00
The countdown started immediately. Three minutes.
Around us, applicants began moving toward the rows of stadium-style seating that faced a raised platform. I spotted my badge number on an armrest in the middle section and headed that way, Felicity following without invitation.
"So like, are you nervous at all?" she asked as we climbed the steps. "Because you’re giving very unbothered energy and I respect that."
"I’m compartmentalizing," I said honestly.
"Ooh, healthy coping mechanisms. Love that for you."
I found my seat, 138, and dropped into it. The chair was surprisingly comfortable, padding firm but not hard. Felicity checked the number beside mine, saw 139, and immediately sat down.
"Guess we’re neighbors!" She settled in, crossing her legs in a way that made me very aware of how little fabric her shorts actually contained. "This is lowkey perfect actually because I hate sitting next to people who are all stressed and quiet. You seem like you have actual personality."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Obviously."
〘 NEW HEROINE DETECTED: FELICITY HARDY 〙
〘 TEMPTATION GAUGE INITIALIZED: 2% 〙
〘 CURRENT STAGE: NEUTRAL 〙
〘 NOTE: SUBJECT RESPONDS POSITIVELY TO CONFIDENCE AND HUMOR. PHYSICAL ATTRACTION BASELINE ESTABLISHED THROUGH PROXEMIC BEHAVIOR AND SUSTAINED EYE CONTACT. 〙
Interesting.
Two percent wasn’t much, but it was something. The System apparently considered anyone with functional ovaries a potential target. I dismissed the notification and focused on the timer, which had dropped below one minute.
Felicity leaned over, close enough that I could smell her perfume. Something sweet. Vanilla maybe, mixed with something floral.
"Real talk though," she said quietly. "You actually think we can do this? Like all of us here trained our whole lives for this and they’re still only taking like forty people."
I looked at her. Up close, I could see the nervous energy beneath her cheerful exterior. The way her fingers tapped against her thigh. The slight tension in her jaw.
"You wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t do it," I said.
She smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. "Okay that’s actually really sweet. Thank you."
The timer hit zero.
