Chapter 19: The Admission Exams begin 2
The ascent from Terra was not the smooth, cinematic glide the recruitment videos promised. Inside the UHF Raven Transport, the vibration was a violent, bone-rattling shudder as the shuttle fought the planet's gravity well. Roman Dawson sat with his back pressed against the cold metal hull, his hands resting naturally on the hilt of the Lightning Sword strapped between his knees.
Beside him, John's face was a shade of pale green, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. Ellen, however, was staring out the reinforced viewport, her eyes wide as the sky transitioned from a familiar blue to a bruised purple, and finally, to the absolute, terrifying black of the void.
"Look," Ellen whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the atmospheric thrusters.
Roman didn't need his physical eyes. His True Sight perceived the shift in the environment long before the light hit the glass. As they cleared the thermosphere, the turbulence died instantly, replaced by the eerie, weightless silence of space. And there, hanging against the backdrop of distant, cold stars, was the NS-Sovereign.
It was not a ship; it was a floating continent of steel and flux-reactors. Miles long, the mothership was a jagged silhouette of docking bays, sensory arrays, and defensive turrets. It glowed with a faint blue ion-shield, a shimmering veil that protected the thousands of lives within from the lethal radiation of the cosmos.
The Raven banked, its thrusters firing in short, precise bursts as it lined up with Hangar Bay 42. As they drifted closer, Roman could see dozens of other transports and sleek private ships of the "Gold-Blood" clans and battered sector shuttles like their own—swarming around the mothership like silver gnats around a leviathan.
The landing was a muffled thud as the Raven's mag-locks engaged with the hangar floor. The hatch hissed open, and the pressurized air of the mothership—smelling of ozone, recycled oxygen, and expensive fuel—rushed in.
"Disembark! Move it, candidates!" a UHF officer barked, his voice amplified by a neural-link. "Head toward the registration deck. Follow the light-strips on the floor. Do not wander, or you will be jettisoned."
Roman stepped out onto the hangar floor, and for a moment, even his stoic calm was tested. The scale was staggering. Thousands of students were streaming out of hundreds of ships. He saw teenagers in high-tech exoskeletons, students draped in silk robes , and the familiar, uniform-clad ranks of the Terran sectors.
"Stay close," Roman commanded, his voice cutting through John and Ellen's daze. He could feel the chaotic tangle of soul-force in the room—thousands of beasts being suppressed in their soul-spaces, creating a localized pressure that would have made an ordinary person or a weak rank 1 tanet faint.
They moved toward the central Registration Deck, a massive floating platform manned by hundreds of holographic AI droids and stern-faced UHF officials. As they reached the front of their line, a sleek droid with a polished silver face scanned Roman's biometric ID.
[ ID Verified: Roman Dawson. Origin: Terra, Eastern Sector. Rank: 2 Aperture Opening. ]
"Candidate Dawson, please finalize your University Selection Form," the droid stated, its voice a perfect, soulless melody. "Note that your choice is binding for the duration of the practical exam. Your performance will be broadcasted directly to the admissions board of your chosen institution."
A holographic screen appeared before Roman. The list was a directory of the galaxy's elite.
At the very top, glowing in a prestigious gold, was Astral Star University. It was the undisputed Rank 1 institution of the United Human Federation, a place where the curricula were dictated by Rank 8 Saints and the resources were funded by the Core Worlds' treasuries. To even apply was considered an act of arrogance for someone from a backwater planet.
Roman didn't hesitate. His finger tapped the gold crest of Astral Star.
Beside him, John and Ellen looked at the screen, then at Roman. They knew the stakes. If they chose Astral Star and failed to hit the top percentile, no other school would take them. It was the highest peak or the deepest abyss. With a shared look of defiance, they both selected Astral Star University.
A few meters away, Brent Miller was finalizing his own form. He looked over at Roman's screen and scoffed, though there was a flicker of genuine nervousness in his eyes. Brent's finger hovered over a different crest—a silver eagle clutching a star.
Federation Star Academy. It was currently ranked second, though many in the "Gold-Blood" circles argued it was equal to Astral Star. It had held the Rank 1 spot for decades until a recent shift in the Intergalactic Tamer Trials. For the Miller family, it was a safer bet—a school that also valued lineage and traditional perfection like the raw, unpredictable talent Astral Star was known for.
"Aiming for the sun, Dawson?" Brent sneered as he stepped away from the deck. "Just make sure you don't burn up before the first drop. Federation Star doesn't take 'broken assets,' and neither does Astral."
Roman didn't bother responding. The choice was made. The path was set.
The trio was directed toward the transition tunnels, which led to the massive living quarters of the mothership. The "seats" were more like individual pods arranged in a gargantuan stadium-like hall that could hold ten thousand candidates.
As Roman settled into his pod, checking the seal on his Lightning Sword, a shadow fell over him. A boy with messy silver hair and a cloak that seemed to change color depending on the light dropped into the pod directly beside him.
"Astral Star, huh? Brave. Or suicidal. It's hard to tell the difference these days," the boy said, grinning. He was leaning back, his hands behind his head, looking perfectly relaxed in an environment where everyone else was vibrating with anxiety.
Roman turned his head slightly. Through his True Sight, he saw the boy's energy—it was strange, slippery, and incredibly dense for his age. "I'm Roman," he said simply.
"Shane," the boy replied, flashing a toothy grin. "Shane of the Void-Drifters... or just Shane the Gossip, depending on who you ask. So, Roman, do you have any idea what kind of monsters we're sitting with on this ship?"
Roman remained silent, but Shane didn't seem to need a prompt to keep talking. He was a fountain of information, his eyes darting around the hall as he pointed out various groups.
"See those guys over there? The ones in the red-and-black armor? That's the Crimson Vanguard from Mars. Their leader, a guy named Nero, allegedly evolved his beast to 2-star peak before he even hit sixteen. He's the one to watch if you want to see a Fire-type slaughter."
Shane leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "But they aren't the real problem. There's a girl from the Core Planets, Lyra Valerius. Word is, she's already a Rank 3 Spirit Sea Tamer. She didn't even have to take the written exam; Astral Star invited her personally, but she's taking the practical just to 'crush the competition.' Talk about a spoiled genius, right?"
Roman listened, his mind categorizing the names and power levels. He knew that in a Rank 3 Hazardous Zone, the environment was dangerous, but the other candidates were the real variables.
"And then there's you," Shane said, his eyes suddenly sharpening as he looked at Roman's Lightning Sword. "An blind orphan from Terra a backward planet with a 5-star evolution. You're the biggest gossip in the Eastern Sector right now, buddy. People are wondering if you're a secret experiment or just the luckiest kid in the galaxy."
"Luck has nothing to do with it," Roman said coldly.
Shane chuckled. "I like that. 'Luck is for the weak,' right? Well, hold onto your seat, Roman. The engines are warming up."
As Shane spoke, a low-frequency hum began to vibrate through the floor of the mothership. It started as a whisper and grew into a bone-deep roar that made the teeth ache.
[ ATTENTION CANDIDATES. PREPARE FOR WARP JUMP. ]
[ DESTINATION: PLANET X-99 (CODENAME: THE FORGOTTEN CRADLE). ]
[ ARRIVAL IN T-MINUS 120 MINUTES. ]
The massive viewing deck at the front of the hall unshielded, revealing the stars. But they weren't static points of light anymore. As the NS-Sovereign's warp-drive engaged, the stars stretched into long, brilliant white lines. The ship lurched—a sensation of being pulled through a needle-thin tube—and then, they were in the "Between."
Outside the ship, the universe was a swirling kaleidoscope of blue and violet flux energy.
Roman sat back, closing his eyes. He didn't need the gossip or the warnings. He could feel the Azure Dragon Stone within him vibrating in resonance with the ship's engines. It was hungry.
"Planet X-99," Roman murmured.
Beside him, Shane was still talking, now debating the merits of different types of emergency rations, but Roman had already tuned him out. He focused on the Lightning Sword, the Aperture Opening in his chest, and the sleeping sovereign on his shoulders.
The journey to the planet had begun. On Terra, he had been a "broken asset." On the NS-Sovereign, he was a curiosity. But on Planet X-99, Roman Dawson would become a legend. He would show Astral Star University exactly why a 5-star evolution was the only thing that mattered in a universe governed by the strong.
"Rest while you can, Shane," Roman said, his voice like iron. "Because once we land, the gossip ends and the hunting begins."
The mothership hurtled through the void, a sliver of silver carrying the future of the Human Federation into the heart of the Star Realm. The countdown to the practical exam was ticking, and the predator was finally home.