Inside the simulation...
Ryn let out a long, suffering sigh, scratching his ear.
'So noisy,' he complained inwardly. 'Whoever voice-acted these hostages deserves an award for being annoying. Do they really have to scream every three seconds?'
He checked the time. Twelve minutes had passed.
'If I finish this too perfectly, I'll draw attention again. Being ranked second in the combat showcase is already a disaster. I need to look... barely competent.'
He sat up slowly, stretching his neck. He peered through the dusty skylight window. Below, the terrorists were distracted, their formation loose.
'Distance to floor: 15 meters. Distance to Safe Zone: 150 meters. My recorded limit is about 50-60 meters within line of sight. So I shouldn't jump straight out.'
He formulated a plan.
A messy, desperate-looking plan that would get him a passing grade but keep him out of the "Elite" conversation.
"Alright," he mumbled. "Let's do this."
He stood up and stomped his foot hard on the glass skylight.
CRASH!
The glass shattered, shards raining down into the warehouse.
"What the—?!" The mercenary leader looked up, his Arc-Caster humming to life.
"Intruder on the roof!" the Ranger on the balcony shouted, raising his Heavy Bolt-Caster.
Ryn didn't wait. He jumped through the broken frame.
Vwoom.
Space distorted.
He vanished in mid-air and reappeared instantly in the center of the room, crouching between the three hostages.
"Gotcha," he whispered.
He grabbed the ropes binding the hostages with both hands.
"There he is! Shoot him!" the leader screamed.
Ryn's eyes darted to the balcony. The ranger had a bead on him. In his mind, Ryn saw the trajectory. He could have warped instantly. He could have ducked.
But he didn't.
'Take the hit,' he told himself. 'Make it look real.'
ZZEWW!
The Ranger fired.
A streak of crimson arcana tore through the air.
Ryn was 'too late to dodge'.
The energy projectile slammed into his left shoulder, cauterizing the fabric of his uniform instantly.
"Gah!" Ryn grunted, a spray of red data fragments bursting from the wound. Ideally, it hurt like hell; the simulation pods replicated pain at 20-30% intensity.
He grimaced, his face twisting in "agony."
"Shoot him again!"
"Urgh," Ryn hissed through gritted teeth.
Vwoom.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
He warped again, taking the three hostages with him.
They reappeared back on the roof, just outside the skylight. It was a short jump, well within his 60-meter limit.
Ryn stumbled, dropping to one knee as he clutched his bleeding shoulder.
"Down!" he shouted to the confused hostages.
ZZEWW! ZZEWW!
More energy bolts pierced the roof from below, missing them by inches and scorching the concrete.
"We need... to move," Ryn panted, playing the part of the desperate rescuer perfectly.
He looked toward the Safe Zone in the distance. He couldn't reach it in one go, but from this height, he could see the checkpoint.
He grabbed the hostages again.
Vwoom.
They vanished from the roof.
A split second later, Ryn and the three civilians tumbled onto the grass of the Safe Zone, rolling to a stop.
[Objective Complete.]
A soft chime rang out, and a translucent blue interface materialized directly in Ryn's field of vision, displaying his performance metrics.
________
[Mission Report]
[Objective: Hostage Extraction - SUCCESS]
[Hostages Rescued: 3/3 (Perfect)]
[Efficiency: High]
[Combat Rating: Low]
[Final Grade: B+]
[System Analysis: Candidate displays exceptional mobility and decisiveness. However, defensive instincts are critically lacking. Candidate failed to evade a predictable trajectory, resulting in significant injury.]
[Recommendation: Prioritize Evasive Maneuver Drills and Reactive Shielding.]
________
Ryn read the harsh critique regarding his "defensive instincts" and fought the urge to smirk. It was exactly the assessment he wanted.
He lay back on the grass, clutching his shoulder with a grimace as he felt the cameras zooming in.
"Ouch..." he groaned loudly. "That... really hurt."
In the monitoring room, the tension broke.
"He passed," the bespectacled professor exhaled, "but it was messy. He took a direct hit from the ranger. His situational awareness still needs some work."
"Yeah, he was reckless," another professor agreed, scribbling notes. "He relied too much on his ability and ignored the enemy positions. If that had been a headshot, the mission would have failed."
Shaylo stared at the screen, her brow furrowed.
She saw a student who had panicked, made a noisy entrance, and barely escaped with his life. It was a passing performance, but certainly not an elite one.
Well, that's what an ordinary person would think.
But Shaylo's gut told her that something was amiss.
She narrowed her eyes, replaying the last few seconds of the simulation in her mind.
'!'
'...I see.'
Shaylo realized the tactical implication immediately.
He didn't make that entrance because he was reckless. There was a reason behind it. By smashing that skylight, he had forced a violent reaction. Every mercenary in that room had instinctively looked up and aimed at the roof, at him, and away from the captives.
If he had tried to sneak in silently and was spotted, the mercenaries might have executed the hostages in a panic. But by making himself a loud, undeniable threat, he ensured he was the only target.
'...He wasn't sleeping,' she realized, a sudden shiver running down her spine. 'He was calculating. He was analyzing the patrol patterns, waiting for the exact moment where that distraction would be most effective.'
And that hit...
The system penalized him for low defensive instincts, claiming he failed to dodge the Ranger's shot. But Shaylo looked closer at the trajectory.
If Ryn had warped immediately to dodge, the bolt would have passed through his empty space and likely hit the hostage cowering right behind him.
Her eyes widened slightly.
'He didn't fail to dodge. He chose not to.'
He drew the aggro, took the hit, and secured the objective. In a real hostage situation, that kind of selfless, split-second decision-making was more valuable than any flashy skill.
A faint, approving smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She looked at the boy on the screen with a newfound light in her eyes.
'It seems like I missed a gem in the previous tests.'
Sure, he was rough around the edges. He was reckless. And he was definitely lazy.
But he understood the core of a mission better than half the "Elites" in this room.
"B-Plus is a fair grade for the execution," she murmured to herself, tapping her finger against her arm. "But the potential..."
She glared at the screen, her resolve hardening.
"Well, that just means I will have to train him even harder," she decided. "I'll make sure he doesn't have time to sleep in my class."
The other professors exchanged subtle glances and shook their heads in unison. They recognized that look in her eyes.
The famous 'Demon Instructor' had found a new favorite toy, which meant that the poor boy in Pod #02 was about to experience a very special kind of hell soon.
However, none of them voiced any objection regarding his grade. They didn't doubt Ryn's capabilities or think he would fail the entrance exam.
In fact, they considered him a highly promising cadet.
A Flux Arcanist, one with Space Affinity and a well-developed teleportation ability, was a strategic unicorn in the world of Arcana. The ability to instantly reposition allies or extract targets was invaluable on the battlefield.
Even if his combat technique was unrefined and even if he performed "poorly" by elite standards, the fact that he showed the will to act, the courage to take a hit for the hostages, and the personality to prioritize the objective over his own safety meant he was more than qualified.
"He will be a valuable asset," the bespectacled professor agreed silently, taking a secret glance at Shaylo. "With the right guidance, of course."
Then, everyone turned their attention back to their own assigned candidates.
