"Raise your arms," an elderly voice instructed.

  A boy, no older than fifteen, lifted his arms above his head. The old man in a lab coat ran his gloved hands down the boy’s sides, searching for imperfections. He tapped his torso, listening for anything unusual.

  "Put your hands down and open your mouth," the doctor said, picking up a dentist’s mouth mirror from his tray.

  He inserted the mirror, inspecting every nook and cranny. The medical room was silent, the surgical lights casting sharp shadows over the boy’s lean muscles.

  "Mhm. Everything looks good. You can get dressed." The doctor withdrew the mirror and placed it in a sterilizer.

  The naked boy nodded and got off the examination chair. His muscles, taut like a panther’s, flexed as he pulled on his clothes. He tied his shoulder-length black hair into a ponytail and stretched.

  "Thanks, doc," he said, rolling his shoulders.

  "You think the principal will allow that hairstyle?" The old man asked as a robotic arm meticulously sorted the lab equipment.

  "Ehhhh, I don’t really give a shit. What’s she gonna do? Force me?" The boy grinned.

  His mechanical eyes glinted with mischief.

  The doctor shook his head. "It’d do you good to watch that mouth of yours. You don’t want to be barred from the assessment, do you?"

  The boy hesitated. "You think she’d stop me over something that dumb?..." He sighed. "Yeah, that crazy hag just might."

  "Anyway, see ya, doc." He turned toward the door.

  "Oh, Simon—send your sister in. I plan to finish all my inspections before the day is through."

  Simon gave a thumbs-up as he walked out.

  The old man exhaled, shrugging off his lab coat and draping it over his chair. As he made his way to the coffee maker, the glow of the laser bulbs reflected off the badge on his coat.

  Dr. Lambert, Physician, NSI.

  ********

  I must confess something.

  I have a deadly disease.

  I suffer from brainrot.

  I glance at Virav, who’s mindlessly scrolling through his phone. I catch a glimpse of a toilet with a head before he swipes past it.

  I look down at my own phone and continue doing the same, consuming garbage without a second thought.

  We’re on a shuttle headed to District-10, the trade capital of the country. Situated on the western coast of Indat, it’s the wealthiest district in the nation. Goods flow in and out by sea, air, and land, making it the heart of commerce.

  It’s also where last year’s NTA was held—the rowing competition.

  Tearing my eyes away from my screen, I glance around. The shuttle is emptier than usual, thanks to the NTA. With everyone traveling to District-9, the shuttles heading elsewhere feel almost deserted. I look to my right and spot a couple staring blankly ahead, into the air, giggling every now and then. Probably watching something through their NeuroSync. It’s always weird when someone seems to be looking at you, only for you to realize they’re lost in a virtual feed.

  I sigh and turn to Virav. If students were allowed to have NeuroSyncs, we’d all be beyond saving. Thankfully, the government put restrictions in place—no NeuroSyncs for students. They say it’s to prevent overreliance on the internet and to foster critical thinking.

  It’s been almost an hour since we boarded the shuttle. We’ll be arriving in District-10 any minute now.

  Virav tucks his phone into his pocket and stretches his arms with a satisfied sigh.

  “Shouldn’t you be training or something?” I ask, eyeing him. “I know I asked you to come, but why are you wandering around like you have no burdens in life?”

  He smirks. “I’ve trained my whole life, bro. A day off or two won’t kill me. Besides, I have a ritual—always relax on the days before the competition.”

  “If you’ve been training your whole life, how come you never rank under 500,000?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  I notice his fingers twitch, flexing like he’s priming a catapult.

  “Anyway—” I clear my throat, changing the topic. “Why is the gap between the application and the exam so short? Is it always like this?”

  Virav sighs, loosening his fingers. “No, this isn’t normal. Usually, there’s about a month between the application deadline and the exam. But this year’s different. The Flare family left for the US a couple of weeks ago, and they won’t be back until next week. So, people think the top 1000 won’t be dominated by the Flares for once. Naturally, a ton of applicants are hoping to grab a piece of that sweet cake and the deadline was extended.”

  What a bittersweet moment. The Flares won’t be participating this time, but the number of applicants has likely doubled.

  I sigh as an announcement blares through the shuttle: "The shuttle has arrived at District-10."

  We walk through the aisle, ignoring the digital displays of ads plastered on the shuttle walls.

  "Hey, blue t-shirt!" I hear a voice shout.

  "Hey, you! The black-haired guy wearing a blue tee and jeans! You, the plain-looking guy—average height, average build, average everything!"

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I glance to my right and find the image of a soda bottle wearing sunglasses on one of the ad displays.

  "Yeah, you!" The bottle points at me.

  "What?" I ask, annoyed.

  "Buy me! You may look painfully average, but with Cola-Cola, you'll be cooler than the North Pole!" The bottle markets itself while violating my dignity.

  I ignore the bottle as it moves on to catcalling another poor passenger.

  .

  .

  .

  Virav and I step out of the underground shuttle station entrance.

  "Let's catch the metro. The harbor is quite far from here," Virav suggests.

  We walk for a few minutes and reach the metro station.

  The whole place feels abnormal to me. No magrails flying around the skies like dragons, no supercars zipping through the air at Mach speed, no ads calling me average. None of that. It’s weirdly peaceful.

  We enter Polo Ward Metro Station and are greeted by... nothing. No loud stores, no sales bots, none of that. Just a few ticket booths and an escalator leading to the platform.

  We pay the ticket agent—a human male—for our tickets and hop on the escalator. Our student IDs are only valid in District-9.

  "Doesn't your grandma live here?" Virav asks.

  I nod. "Yeah. We'll probably visit her this Sunday."

  The maglev train arrives just as we reach the platform. We squeeze into the packed train and immediately get crushed by the crowd.

  Even though District-10 has less than half the population of District-9, it's over 200 times smaller. The result? A way higher population density.

  My face ends up buried in an obese man's armpit while he's on the phone, talking about some business venture involving perfumes.

  I try turning my head, only to get sweat smeared onto my face. I glance at Virav and see him pressed against what I’d call a baddie. He's smiling and making conversation, the sexy girl giggling at whatever he’s saying.

  Quietly, I turn my head back and find solace in the obese man's armpit.

  ********

  "What?" Virav asks as I stare at his frustrating face.

  I remain silent, the sound of waves crashing against the harbor walls ringing in my ears.

  Hundreds of boats, big and small, swarm the waters. Some yachts are preparing to set sail, while others have just returned from a cruise. Some boats have families boarding with happy faces, while others carry groups of horny dudes looking thirstier than a whale in a desert.

  I continue staring at the biggest whale of them all.

  "Come on, she was cute," the whale in question groans. "It ain't my fault you're afraid of talking to women," he adds unnecessarily.

  I'm not.

  I sigh and glance around. "So, this whole place was evacuated for the competition last year?"

  "Yeah. We had to form groups of ten and row for fifteen kilometers. The competition lasted just over a week. It was like a tournament, with the number of people per boat decreasing every round. In the end, ten thousand participants, each on a single boat, reached the finals, and the fastest thousand won the race," he replies.

  I look around, lost. What the hell am I supposed to be looking for?

  I shouldn't have been influenced by those conspiracy theories.

  One internet post said the government follows the ley lines throughout the country and holds the NTA at every node. What the fuck is a ley line, and where am I supposed to find one?

  "Hey, Lord of the Flames!" a voice calls out, cutting through the harbor noise.

  Virav and I both turn curiously to find a tall, tan woman on top of a boat, waving toward us. What her baggy pants hid, her tight tank top revealed. Her glistening muscles, ready to burst, shone with sweat, while her ample chest was soaked in it.

  A muscle mommy, if you will.

  I look at the Lord of the Flames, who couldn’t even cook an omelet with his flames.

  “It’s not what you think it is,” he says, expressionless.

  You bastard.

  “Whatcha doin’ here?” The woman jumps out of her boat, landing with an easy grin.

  “Nothing. My friend here wanted to take a look at the sea. He’s never seen it before,” Virav lies blatantly.

  What are you saying, you bastard?

  The woman’s eyes widen as she looks at me.

  “What, seriously? What’s up with you District-9 folks?” She says in disbelief.

  “N-no, he’s just joking. I saw some theories online about predicting the NTA format, so I wanted to check them out,” I fumble, trying to explain.

  Her eyes glint. “Ahhhhh, so you’re investigating those conspiracy theories?” she asks curiously.

  “Uhhhh, yeah,” I reply, avoiding direct eye contact.

  She flaps her tank top lightly, trying to cool off. “I’m guessing you’re a fresh applicant, then?”

  I nod, barely managing not to stare directly at her cleavage. I have to settle for my peripheral vision.

  Her smile widens. “So cool! What’s your ability? You look pretty fit. What training program do ya follow?” She starts bombarding me with questions excitedly.

  What a weird woman.

  I smile awkwardly. “Actually—”

  “What are you doing here? Most applicants reached District-9 weeks ago. Aren’t you being a little too carefree?” Virav interrupts me.

  Don't cockblock me, you selfish bastard.

  The woman grins. "What are those guys gonna do by going there so early? We don’t even know the exact test location in District-9. Plus, I can just hop on one of those sexy shuttles and be there in no time."

  Virav stares at her quietly, deep in thought.

  “What? You wanna fuck me, ember boy?” the woman teases.

  He sighs. “Fuck no. Have you… seen any marks on the tree in the garden we went to in the 2020 NTA?”

  My ears perk up as I focus.

  Her brows furrow. “A mark? What kind of mark?”

  “I dunno, we saw something on its bark but couldn't get a good look,” Virav says.

  A smile creeps onto her lips. “What do I get in return?”

  Virav scowls. “What do you want?”

  The woman grins. “Team up with me this time too.”

  Virav is silent. After a few seconds, he speaks. “Fine. But only if your information is actually useful.”

  Her eyebrows scrunch as she starts speaking. “Well, I don’t remember it too well, but after the competition, I and a couple of my friends stayed back and visited one of the cafés there. We spent well over an hour inside, then headed back to the metro station. But once we got there, I realized I’d left my phone back at the café.

  “When I was returning, I passed by the garden and saw someone scratching the tree’s bark. It was a little kid with pigtails, wearing a maid costume. I called out to her, and she said she was writing her name. I didn’t think much of it and went back to the station.”

  We remain silent.

  Then why didn't the robot just tell us that?

  The woman smiles as she extends her hand. “I’ll see ya in District-9, then.”

  Virav begrudgingly shakes her hand. She then walks back onto her boat.

  “Let’s go,” Virav says as he leaves the harbor.

  I stand there for a moment, taking one last look at the boat she disappeared into.

  I have to compete against her.

  “Hey! Who was that?” I ask, jogging to catch up to Virav.

  “She was my teammate last year. A low Tier-5 Water type. Like me, she’s been an NTA applicant for years. She was pretty helpful—until she decided to switch teams and ram into my boat,” he sighs.

  That woman, no, girl because she must be 21 or younger, did that?

  “Why?” I ask.

  “’Cause the other team had a higher chance of winning. In the end, she got pushed out of the boat before they reached the finish line, so… Karma’s real, I guess,” he replies.

  So stuff like this happens in the NTA... I have to be careful.

  “What’s her name?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested.

  He stares at me in disbelief.

  “I dunno. We only teamed up temporarily and weren’t even close. It was a one-time thing. Team-ups like that happen all the time in the NTA, so most of us don’t bother getting close.”

  “By the way, you gotta be careful. You saw how she was acting all cute, asking about your ability? She was trying to gauge your threat level. If Awakened applicants find out you’re a Normal, you’ll be treated like a pushover. Although... I suspect she may have already figured it out because of my interruption.”

  Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will win a hundred battles, huh?

  “My bad…” I mumble.

  “Not your fault, man. Just keep it in mind next time,” he says as we head toward the metro station.

  That little robot is very suspicious.

  “Hey, let’s just head back home,” I say as we step into the Harbor Metro Station.

  I'll do some studying for the rest of the day.

  “You sure?” Virav looks at me, slightly puzzled.

  And tomorrow, I'll punt that little robot to oblivion.

  “Yeah.”

  3 days left for the commencement of the NTA.