Chapter 5: Power Suppression Exam
The training dome hummed with containment fields.
It was a massive, circular chamber — all smooth alloy walls and force-dampening floors, with transparent observation decks spiraling high above. Cameras clicked into place along every surface, drones hovering with silent precision.
Hernan stood in line, wrists already magnetically bound with suppression cuffs. Cold metal against his skin, pulsing with microcurrents. They weren't painful — just limiting. Like being smothered by a warm, invisible blanket.
He watched the students around him fidget.
Some cracked their knuckles. Others whispered prayers.
Power Suppression Evaluation.
No powers. No gadgets. No gear.
Just your instincts. Your body. Your mind.
It was the Academy's way of separating the lucky from the skilled.
Two students entered the ring at a time. Sparring matches. Point-based. No injuries allowed — in theory.
The instructor, a wiry man with sunken eyes and a voice like chewing gravel, barked out names in pairs.