Sami normally wasn’t one to shy away from volunteering, but wasn’t feeling very confident in his physical abilities. His Shadow Hand was the only physical power he had, and the grade system only seemed to go as low as “Grade F” for leaving a dent in the clay dummy. What if he wasn’t able to leave a dent at all? Was there a Grade lower than F? Did it mean he wouldn’t be accepted into HUE?

  “If no one volunteers, Naomi’s going to pick you at random,” Apex told the row of potential recruits.

  Claire raised her hand, waving it gently.

  “Yes! Come on up. What is your name, young lady?” Apex beckoned her forward, taking a few steps back to give her the floor.

  “Yeah, I’m Claire Ettie. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m Awakened, but I don’t have a physical power. I read subtitles under people. I’m not strong enough to show off,” Claire informed him.

  “Everyone will participate,” Naomi answered.

  Claire shrugged and walked up to the clay dummy. It stood a head taller than her, looking straight ahead with a featureless face. Claire looked up at it, then braced a fist. Swinging her hips with the movement, she threw a powerful punch forward. A numb thud echoed across the room, followed by Claire tutting her tongue. Stepping away, the dummy looked entirely unchanged. Not even a dent. Steve took notes while Naomi nodded to her, taking another sip of her drink.

  “Thank you, Claire,” Naomi said, dismissing her with a nod.

  Claire turned back and joined the lineup, looking somewhat disappointed. Sami’s heart was tight in his chest. He was planning to do the same thing, throwing as much force forward as he possibly could and hoping to get a decent Grade from his innate physical prowess. But if Claire couldn’t even leave a mark, could he do much better?

  When Claire joined the line, Naomi and Apex scanned the crowd expectantly. No one stepped forward. Naomi pulled out her phone and tapped a few times.

  “Can I get a ‘Gan Wen Dadan,’ please? Demonstrate your abilities,” Naomi invited.

  Gan Wen moved forward with long strides, his robe giving him a grand flow like he was gliding forward. He turned to both Apex and Naomi and placed a fist to his heart in salute.

  “This one is Gan Wen, of the Path of the Radiant Sun. I will demonstrate my best ability; that of the Shining Palm,” Gan Wen informed them, waiting for their permission before moving.

  “One moment,” Steve looked up from the notes he took. “You said you’re from a place called ‘Radiant Sun?’”

  “No,” Gan Wen said, mildly irritated at Steve. “My Path is that of the Radiant Sun.”

  “He is from Hammerton,” Naomi said, reading from her phone.

  “I’m not sure I understand the point about ‘Radiant Sun,’” Steve said, tapping his clipboard as though searching for what to write.

  “I think we can figure out these details later,” Apex said, watching Gan Wen with a hint of interest. “Go ahead and begin your demonstration.”

  “This one thanks the Sect Elder for the opportunity.” Gan Wen saluted him and stood three feet in front of the dummy.

  Breathing deeply, Gan Wen thrust his arm forward, the flat of his palm pointed toward the dummy. A golden blast charged forward, maintaining the shape of his hand as it flew and expanded. By the time it reached the dummy, it was twice the size of the clay man. The golden palm crashed into it, destroying it and sending large chunks flying back enough to hit the far end of the hangar.

  The hangar stood in stunned silence, save for the pieces of clay rolling to a stop on the ground.

  “Hey, that was great!” Apex shouted, applauding Gan Wen. “That’s Grade A, easy!”

  The others in the room applauded Gan Wen, and he turned to Apex and Naomi, saluting them humbly. Steve stumbled forward to create a new dummy while Gan Wen strode back to his place in line.

  “Can I get a ‘Dawson Zephyr?’” Naomi called forward.

  “Uh oh, that’s me,” Dawson said, stepping forward. “Wish me luck.”

  He was a red-headed young man with freckles and a toothy grin. His outfit was strangely flashy, like he already made a uniform for himself out of fabric he found collected from a curtain and a green screen. Glancing over his shoulder, he waved to the people waiting their turn, though no one waved back.

  Sami examined the single red bubble over Dawson, trying to put together an understanding of the colors he saw on people. One of the Power Sense bubbles over Naomi was blue while the other was a sickly black. The ominously dark color for power showed up rarely, but Sami never had the chance to ask someone enough questions to correlate any color to a meaning.

  Steve breathed hard as he walked away from his newly created dummy, dabbing himself with a damp handkerchief while he looked at Naomi. Sami eyed the power above Dawson as he stood in front of the dummy, determined to get some hint of meaning from Power Sense.

  “All right, here I go!” Dawson announced, stepping forward and raising one arm.

  Something in the air shifted around Dawson’s arm and the Power Sense bubble glowed slightly above him. Dawson’s arm swung down, and the dummy’s leg cut clean off. Dawson followed up with a jab, stabbing his arm through its chest. Then Dawson grunted, pulling his arm and getting no movement. Sami blinked, realizing the Power Sense bubble stopped glowing at the same time that Dawson stopped moving.

  “Errm,” Dawson said loudly. “My arm’s stuck.”

  Sighing, Steve shambled forward and placed a hand to the dummy, expanding the hole enough for Dawson to pull out his hand. Looking over his fingers, Dawson opened and closed his fist as Steve put the rest of the dummy back together.

  “Errm, that just happened,” he said, sounding like he was projecting his voice for a stage play. “But I just cut that guy’s arm off with my freakin’ hand. Pretty cool, right?”

  Sami couldn’t tell who Dawson addressed the question to and Dawson seemed to look around the room in search of someone’s opinion. Or maybe validation. He smiled at Apex who was still looking at Gan Wen with a thoughtful hand on his chin.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Thank you, Dawson. Next is Chester Featherbottom,” Naomi read off her phone.

  Dawson sauntered back in line in disappointment as Chester stepped forward, holding an animal carrier under one arm. He was a grown man as far as Sami could tell, somewhere in his twenties. There was short stubble around his chin and thinning black hair combed over on his head. Chester placed the container on the ground a few feet ahead of the dummy and unlocked it. Before he opened it, he looked up to the proctors.

  “You may wanna step back. You asked me to go all out,” Chester warned them.

  Apex remained in place. Naomi took a step back and Steve slinked behind Apex, trying not to look nervous as he dabbed his forehead. Even a few people around Sami took half-steps back, wary. Sami remained confidently in place, eyeing the Power Sense bubble floating with Chester. As soon as he had placed the carrier down, the blue circle of energy above him started to glow.

  Chester looked around, making sure no one was nearby, before thrusting the cage in front of the carrier forward.

  “Now! Kill!” Chester screamed, pointing toward the dummy.

  A tense second passed in silence. Followed by another. Chester continued to point, but his head turned back to the cage.

  “Come on, go kill,” Chester murmured, sounding like a mother encouraging a toddler to introduce themselves.

  Emerging from the carrier, a chicken’s head popped up. With quick, staccato movements, it looked around, remaining only a step outside of the carrier.

  “That guy, right there,” Chester whispered, but his voice carried all around the silent hangar.

  The chicken clucked lightly and poked at a small piece of clay at its feet. Sami could feel the tension release from the others in line. Some chuckled, and others murmured, asking whether it was a joke. Sami continued to watch the shining bubble above Chester, curiously.

  “Look.” Chester picked up the chicken. It was clearly comfortable with him, as it didn’t resist. Chester walked all the way up to the dummy. “This is the bad guy. Get him. Right there in the eye.”

  The chicken’s head turned one way, the other, back the first way, then thrust its head forward quickly, pecking the dummy where the nose would be. Chester roared a loud cheer, and the startled chicken waved its wings in shock at his sudden outburst.

  “Fear the beasts that I can control!” Chester roared.

  Rather than applause, he was met with laughter from the line of people watching. He turned to them in confusion at their reaction, then grinned.

  “Some of those experiencing unadulterated fear laugh out of pure shock,” Chester assured the chicken. The chicken clucked in agreement, and the line went further into laughter.

  “Thank you, Chester,” Naomi said, no amusement in her eyes, though Apex looked surprisingly interested. “Next up will be Francine Gorbonifus.”

  Sami watched as Chester returned his chicken to its carrier, the glow of his mist of power dissipating. A triumphant smile stretched Sami's face as the elegant yet simple pattern revealed itself.

  The Power Sense bubble would glow whenever someone was using their power. He felt silly for not having noticed it before. With this in mind, he could figure out which power bubble correlated to which ability. But there was some trickiness to it. Gan Wen’s power was always a glowing gold, and even Naomi’s black cloud seemed to shine faintly. Were they both constantly in use of their power? That seemed absurd, since it took energy for him to keep up Power Sense.

  Francine blasted fire forward, engulfing the dummy in a pyre. Sami watched her red Power Sense bubble glow up until she stopped streaming flames. His lips thinning, he was further made certain that a shine meant an active power.

  Thinking a little deeper, he realized one of the three powers above his own head was always glowing. The blue one. It must have been Power Sense itself, since there was no way for him to see it, except that it was active.

  “Thank you, Francine. Sami Raheem?” Naomi asked, glancing up from her phone.

  Looking up sharply, Sami realized with a pit of dread that he was panting. He had been pushing himself so hard to get information through Power Sense that he had tired himself out. It was a sad oversight when he wanted to be in top shape for the demonstration. Controlling his breathing, he hoped it wouldn’t affect his ability to use Shadow Hand.

  Putting on a brave smile, Sami made his way up to the dummy and flexed his fists. He squared up his arms, looking around the dummy for weak points. He and it were the same height and Steve repaired it after Francine burned it rather than creating an entirely new one. Sami squinted, thinking he spotted a crack in the dummy’s neck—maybe he could snap it off. If he could get something as high as a Grade D in power, maybe he wouldn’t be laughed off like Chester.

  Breathing steeply, Sami ran up and threw a fist toward the dummy. At the same time, his Shadow Hand raced around the clay man like a heat-seeking missile. Both his hand and his shadow fist crashed into the dummy’s neck simultaneously, the force causing the dummy to tremble. Sami took a step back, massaging one hand with the other as he evaluated the damage. The crack had expanded slightly, a very thin dent in the dummy. Sami’s heart dropped. He had to think of something else, quick, before…

  “Thank you, Sami,” Naomi said.

  Wincing, Sami looked at Apex and Naomi to read their impression of him. Naomi was scrolling through her phone and Apex was looking out at the people still in line. Not a single lingering eye on him. His face downcast, Sami thrust the Shadow Hand back at the dummy, striking as hard as he could at the head to tear it clean off.

  It made even less of an impression than his first hit.

  “I said, ‘thank you,’ Sami,” Naomi said, her tone stern and dismissive.

  His neck warm, Sami kept his eyes on the floor as he made his way back into the line. He didn’t even pay attention to the rest of the tryouts, feeling like he was just waiting to be rejected. Mortification snaked through him in a shiver. Why had he come here to make a fool of himself in front of Apex and all of HUE? He knew his Shadow Hand was weak, so why did he insist on trying out? His application had been so confident in his abilities, he thought he could be clever instead of brute forcing his way into the team.

  But out in the field, they needed genuine power. If he wanted to save people, flimsy abilities wouldn’t be enough to stop calamities like what caused the Silent Scream.

  “Thank you everyone. I hope to see some of you fighting by my side soon,” Apex said, looking between Gan Wen and Francine. “Best of luck.”

  Sami looked up, realizing that the examination was over. Apex waved to everyone and applauded them all for their effort. The others returned the applause, some cheering for him as he smiled at them all.

  “So, that’s it,” Sami said, downtrodden.

  “Well, yeah? How many times did you think they were gonna have us hit the same target?” Claire asked.

  Sami didn’t reply, sighing. Naomi scrolled through her phone, taking a sip from her drink. The short slurp of shallow contents rang out for only a moment before Steve rushed to Naomi. Looking at him with narrow eyes, she flicked his head as though to dismiss him.

  “I’ll get you a new one,” Steve promised.

  “I’m fine. It’s not even empty.” Naomi shook her cup.

  Ignoring her response, Steve hobbled away, sweating.

  “That wasn’t great,” Gutshot said. “My power doesn’t really hurt others really well.”

  “Neither does Steve’s, but he’s in HUE,” Claire said, watching as the larger man waddled out the room.

  “True, that could help. Especially since Steve’s my dad,” Gutshot said, standing up straighter.

  “He is? You look twice his size,” Claire said.

  A look of utter surprise washed over Sami’s face, looking over Gutshot with a quick scan of his eyes. “Wait, how old are you?”

  “I’m eighteen, why?” Gutshot asked.

  “I just… I’m surprised by how young your dad looks,” Sami said, wondering what age he must have been when he had Gutshot. Sami would have guessed that Steve was about twenty-five, maybe thirty at the oldest.

  “First up… Sami!” Naomi asked, looking up from her screen.

  “What?” Sami asked, stunned. With horror in his eyes, he waited for her to tell him he wouldn’t be made a part of HUE.

  Instead, Naomi looked at him impatiently.

  “Please pay more attention. The mental evaluation. Come with me,” she said, turning and making her way into one of the side rooms in the hangar.