The air was thick with the weight of expectation.
As Gaius stood in formation with the other examinees, the vast expanse of Gaia's capital complex stretched around them. Towering structures of obsidian and gold loomed in the distance, their vast spires disappearing into the clouds. The very ground beneath their feet was smooth black stone, flawless, unyielding, eternal.
The planet radiated power—not just in its architecture, but in its silence.
Even now, standing amongst the best of the best, there were no whispers, no idle conversations. Every individual here understood that they had stepped onto the greatest battlefield of their lives.
And the moment they showed weakness, they would be devoured.
The Imperial officer stood before them, his dark crimson uniform pristine, his golden epaulettes glinting beneath the planetary light.
His eyes, cold and sharp as a blade, scanned the gathered examinees.
Behind him, a cadre of other officers and instructors waited in eerie silence. Each one was a monster in their own right—hardened warriors, tacticians, and warlords who had already shaped history in ways the rest of the galaxy could only imagine.
Finally after 2 hours, the lead officer spoke.
"The trials begin now."
No preamble. No elaborate speeches.
Because there was no need.
"You are not here because of birthright. You are not here because of luck. You are here because the Imperium has deemed you worthy to be tested."
He let the words settle.
And then, he continued, voice cold.
"Some of you believe that your heritage, your noble blood, your family name, will shield you from what comes next."
A pause.
"You are mistaken."
A shift rippled through the nobles—a flicker of quiet tension.
The officer's gaze remained unyielding.
"This planet has swallowed greater men and women than you. It does not care who you are."
He exhaled, slowly.
"Survive. Adapt. Overcome."
Then—he raised his hand.
The ground shook.
Massive constructs emerged from the black stone.
Towering monoliths of shifting metal, seamless and alien, twisting into shapes beyond conventional engineering.
At first, Gaius assumed they were machines.
Then, he realized his mistake.
They were not just constructs.
They were weapons.
And then, without warning—
They attacked.
The first wave came in a blur of motion.
A massive spear-like construct extended with unnatural speed, aimed directly at the heart of the formation.
The reaction was immediate.
Some examinees dodged, some blocked, others barely managed to react in time.
And some…
Died instantly.
Crushed. Pierced. Broken.
Screams filled the air.
The examination had begun.
And it had no mercy.
Gaius moved without hesitation.
His body reacted on instinct, sidestepping a razor-thin blade of energy that cut through the air beside him. The very heat of it sent a sharp sting across his cheek.
Then, he struck.
A pivot. A counter. A brutal, precise strike to the center of the nearest construct.
His blade met resistance.
For a single moment, it was like striking solid iron. An impenetrable wall.
But then—
A crack.
A fault.
The construct fractured under the sheer force of his attack.
It shattered in an explosion of metallic shards and energy residue.
One down.
A hundred more to go.
The battlefield was chaos.
Some examinees fought with desperation, their movements wild, unrefined.
Others fought with discipline, efficiency, the telltale marks of noble training.
And then, there were the monsters.
The ones who did not simply fight.
The ones who dominated.
Odysseus Valor moved like a war god.
His blade cut through the air in elegant, fluid arcs—not striking, but erasing everything in its path.
Each construct that came near him was cleaved apart in a single motion.
No wasted energy. No unnecessary movement.
It was terrifyingly precise.
A single man standing amidst a storm of death.
And yet, he remained untouched.
Unbothered.
Unchallenged.
As if the battlefield itself was beneath him.
Elsewhere, another noble stood amidst the chaos—Lucius Varro, heir to House Varro.
Unlike Odysseus, his approach was brutal, overwhelming.
Where Odysseus was a scalpel, Lucius was a hammer.
His movements were fast, savage, unrelenting.
He tore through the constructs not with elegance, but with sheer overwhelming force.
A single punch from him sent one of the towering monoliths crumbling into dust.
It was a display of raw, unrefined dominance.
The power of a noble trained to be a living weapon.
Gaius saw all of this in moments.
He saw the efficiency of Odysseus.
He saw the ferocity of Lucius.
And he understood.
This was the world of Gaia.
This was the level of power he would have to surpass.
Not match.
Surpass.
And so—
He moved.
Faster.
Stronger.
More precise.
Each step, each strike, each action was measured, executed with perfect calculation.
He did not fight with rage.
He did not fight with emotion.
He fought with intention.
He analyzed.
He adapted.
And then—
He destroyed.
One by one, the constructs fell before him.
Not through overwhelming force.
Not through elegant perfection.
But through Absolute control.
Minutes passed.
Then, suddenly—
The battlefield froze.
The constructs stopped moving.
The last echoes of battle faded into the still air.
And then—
The officer spoke again.
"Enough."
His voice carried across the field, as if he had been watching from the very beginning.
As if he had seen everything.
Slowly, the examinees lowered their weapons.
Their breathing was heavy, their bodies bloodied, some standing over the remains of those who had failed.
But none of them spoke.
Because they knew.
This was only the beginning.
The true trials had yet to begin.