The hall of the Fighting Corporation felt vast and cold.
Benji stood in front of the registration desk, his posture straight but tense.
Behind the desk sat a woman—calm, composed, and professional. Her eyes carried no emotion, only routine.
Benji bowed slightly.
"I want to become a fighter."
Without reacting, she opened a digital register.
"Name?"
"Benji Arata."
Her fingers moved swiftly.
"Age?"
"Twelve."
She looked up at him.
"Are you ready for the test?"
Benji didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The training hall was filled with candidates.
Some stretched confidently. Others talked casually, as if they already belonged there.
Benji stood among them, out of place.
"Begin!"
The instructor's voice echoed loudly.
The first test started.
Push-ups.
Benji dropped to the floor and tried to follow.
One.
Two.
Three—
His arms trembled.
By the next moment, his body gave out.
He collapsed, gasping for air.
Around him, others continued without effort.
The gap was obvious.
The second test began.
Running.
Benji forced his legs to move.
Step after step—
His breathing became uneven.
His vision blurred.
And then—
He stumbled.
Fell.
The ground hit hard.
Still, others ran past him.
Like he wasn't even there.
Next came posture.
Basic fighting stance.
Benji tried to copy the instructor.
But his balance was wrong.
His guard was weak.
The instructor simply shook his head.
Final test.
A sparring dummy.
Benji stepped forward.
He clenched his fist and threw a punch.
The impact echoed—
But not the way it should have.
Pain shot through his hand.
He pulled back instantly, losing balance
And fell backward.
Holding his hand tightly.
Around him, whispers began.
"He can't fight at all…"
Benji said nothing.
Back at the desk, the manager checked the results.
Her expression remained unchanged.
"Physical score: 0%."
The words hit harder than any punch.
Benji froze.
"You failed miserably." said by the manager
then, Benji asked for a mental test.
For the first time, the manager looked surprised.
"You failed so bad but still wanted to try."
Benji nodded.
"Yes."
The exam room was quiet.
Rows of desks filled the space.
Candidates sat confidently, waiting.
As Benji entered, whispers spread quickly.
"He scored zero."
"He doesn't even know how to fight."
Benji ignored them.
He walked forward.
Sat down.
The test papers were placed on the desks.
He picked his up.
Benji's eyes sharpened.
A memory surfaced—
Books.
Pages turning.
Another memory—
His father.
Fighting calmly, even when injured.
Thinking.
Not panicking.
Benji lowered his head slightly.
If I want revenge… I can't stop here.
He began writing.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Every answer precise.
Time passed.
The clock ticked.
When he finished, he stood up and submitted his paper.
The waiting was harder than the test.
Benji sat alone in the hallway.
Around him, others laughed.
Celebrated.
Talked about their future.
Benji looked down at his hands.
Still weak.
Still trembling.
"Benji Arata."
He looked up.
The manager stood there.
He stood immediately.
She turned the screen toward him.
MENTAL SCORE: 50%
PHYSICAL SCORE: 0%
TOTAL: PASS
Benji's eyes widened.
For a moment, he couldn't understand.
"You barely passed," she said.
Then she handed him a card.
A Fighter ID.
Name: Benji Arata
Age: 12
Status: Official Fighter
Rank: Low Class Fighter
The card was simple.
Dark green and brown.
Plain.
But heavy.
Benji held it tightly.
"You're not suited for fighting…" the manager said calmly.
A pause.
"But you are a fighter now."
Outside, the sky felt wider.
Benji stepped out of the building slowly.
The world looked the same.
But something had changed.
He looked at the card again.
His grip tightened.
Then he raised his head.
His eyes were no longer empty.
They carried something new.
Determination.
"From today…"
He looked at the sky.
"I am a fighter."