Chapter 74: 74 | It’s Not a Math Test
I crouched low and launched again, the world blurring into streaks of color as Blitz carried me forward. The sensation was fucking addictive. One moment I was standing still, the next I’d crossed thirty feet and my legs remembered how to absorb the momentum without eating concrete.
Twenty percent stamina drain per use. I had five good dashes before I’d need to slow down and let Boundless Stamina work its magic.
The simulation field sprawled ahead like someone had taken a real city block and shrunk it down to toy size. Two-story buildings lined narrow streets. A plaza opened up to my left with a fountain that probably didn’t work. The detail was impressive enough that I almost forgot this was all fake.
A metallic whir caught my attention.
I stopped running and pressed against a brick wall, peering around the corner. Fifteen feet away, a robot rolled into view on treads that left marks in the artificial dirt. The one-pointer. Humanoid torso mounted on tank treads, armed with what looked like a rubber bullet gun. Its head swiveled back and forth in a scanning pattern.
Threat level: pathetic.
The robot’s sensors locked onto me. Its gun arm raised, the barrel tracking my position with mechanical precision.
I activated Spectral Reach, the amber construct materializing from my palm like smoke solidifying into something real. The connection felt natural now after two weeks of tennis ball torture. My brain processed the spatial geometry without conscious effort, finding the optimal angle of approach.
A chunk of broken concrete sat three feet to my left, probably knocked loose during setup. Perfect.
The spectral arm wrapped around the concrete like translucent fingers, lifted it smoothly, and I cocked my arm back in a throwing motion. The construct mirrored the movement. My upgraded Dexterity made the coordination seamless.
The robot fired. Three rubber bullets whizzed past my shoulder.
I threw.
The concrete sailed through the air on a perfect trajectory, carried by telekinetic force that my registered Aspect couldn’t technically produce but whatever. The chunk of building material crashed into the robot’s head with a satisfying crunch of metal and electronics.
Sparks erupted from its neck. The head rolled backward, hanging by exposed wiring. The body twitched once before going still, treads locking up.
ONE POINT
Forty points to go before I hit the theoretical minimum for passing. Assuming the minimum was actually based on points and not some other arbitrary bullshit.
"DUCK!"
I dropped without thinking, pure instinct overriding my Intelligence stat. Something hot passed through the space where my head had been a second ago. The air sizzled and popped. The smell of ozone flooded my nostrils.
A beam of concentrated light carved through the wall behind me, leaving a glowing orange line in the brick.
Holy shit. Someone just blasted a two-pointer.
"Thanks for being a distraction for me!" The voice came from above and behind, male and way too cheerful. "I’ll pay you back sometime!"
I glanced up to see a guy in a black tank top standing on a rooftop, his chest glowing with residual heat. His hands were pressed together like he’d just finished a kamehameha, smoke rising from his palms.
Before I could respond, something massive moved in my peripheral vision.
The three-pointer.
Eight feet tall, quadrupedal design with a reinforced chassis and what looked very much like a chest-mounted laser cannon charging up with an ominous whine. The targeting laser painted a red dot directly over my heart.
Well. Fuck.
The destroyed one-pointer lay ten feet away, its body mostly intact except for the shattered head. My Spectral Reach was still active, the amber construct waiting for commands.
I grabbed the entire robot chassis with my telekinetic arm, feeling the weight strain against my control. One hundred pounds, maybe one-twenty. Right at my current limit but manageable with focus.
The three-pointer’s laser reached full charge. The whine peaked.
I yanked the one-pointer’s body up and hurled it forward with everything I had. My real arm moved through the throwing motion while the spectral construct did the actual work, launching the dead robot like a metal projectile.
The timing was stupid tight. The three-pointer fired half a second before the chassis hit.
The laser beam punched through the one-pointer’s torso, melting metal and circuitry, but the momentum carried the body forward. It slammed into the three-pointer’s face, destroying whatever sensors it used to aim. The laser cut off mid-blast, leaving a scorched trench in the ground that ended five feet from my position.
The three-pointer staggered backward, trying to shake off the dead robot clinging to its head.
"This is for first impressions, asshole!" I shouted, activating Blitz.
The world compressed. I crossed the distance in a blink, coming out of the dash directly beside the three-pointer’s exposed side. Its armor was heaviest in front, lighter on the flanks. My upgraded Intelligence catalogued the weak points automatically.
Spectral Reach grabbed a jagged piece of rebar sticking out from the destroyed one-pointer’s torso. I tore it free and rammed it into the gap between the three-pointer’s leg joint and body chassis.
The robot’s leg locked up. It toppled sideways with a grinding screech of servos failing.
I grabbed another piece of debris, a chunk of concrete with rebar still attached, and brought it down on the three-pointer’s head like a caveman discovering tools for the first time.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The head caved in. Sparks erupted. The body went still.
THREE POINTS
Four total. Only thirty-seven to go.
I straightened up, breathing hard more from adrenaline than actual exhaustion. Boundless Stamina kept my body operational but it didn’t do shit for the mental spike that came from nearly getting lasered in half.
My brain caught up to what Isabelle had said during the briefing.
Some of you will fail because you’re not strong enough. Some will fail because you’re not smart enough. Some will fail because you freeze when it matters. And some of you will fail for reasons you’ll never understand.
That last part stuck with me.
If this exam was purely about racking up the highest point total, everyone would understand exactly why they failed. Too many robots escaped. Didn’t destroy enough high-value targets. The math would be simple and transparent.
But Isabelle had said some people would fail for reasons they’d never understand.
Which meant the scoring wasn’t actually that simple. They were judging on different criteria altogether.
I thought back to the question someone had asked. What about teamwork? Are we allowed to coordinate with other applicants?
And Isabelle’s response: Helping someone else won’t hurt you, but it won’t help you either unless it serves your strategy.
A feral grin spread across my face.
They weren’t just testing our combat ability. They were testing how we approached situations under pressure. Whether we only looked out for ourselves or recognized opportunities for strategic cooperation. Whether we could think beyond the obvious objective and see the bigger picture.
Halloran didn’t just want powerful students. They wanted smart ones.
Time to farm some goodwill and make an impression.
