The crowd outside Supe School was a blend of anticipation and nerves. Hundreds of aspiring students stood at the gates, some fidgeting with their uniforms, others speaking in hushed, fast-paced whispers. Camera drones buzzed overhead, capturing hopefuls from every angle. The air smelled of ozone and adrenaline, like the edge of a thunderstorm.
Among them stood a boy with black hair that danced in the breeze like ribbons of smoke. His posture was relaxed, yet the swirling pressure around him was undeniable.
Elijah Marris.
To most, he looked like any other student — black-and-white standard-issue Supe uniform, sleek backpack slung low, boots polished. But it was the eyes that gave him away. Deep purple, chromatic, subtly shifting in hue like oil under water. They didn't glow, but in the light, they shimmered just enough to unsettle.
Eli stood still, his breathing calm, though his mind was not.
Because while every other kid was panicking about whether they'd pass the entrance exam, Eli was parsing through their feelings like flipping through a library of open books.
Fear.
Excitement.
Worry.
Hope.
Fear.
Fear.
Fear.
It was suffocating, a tide of human anxiety crashing into him like waves. His hands clenched slightly, fighting off the rising burn of emotional noise. He'd learned to dull it, to filter out most of it. But here — this many minds in one space — was overwhelming, even for him.
Then came the sharpest emotion of all.
Suspicion.
From the trees.
Eli's eyes flicked to the upper branches along the perimeter wall. Three minds. Cold. Analytical. Watching him. Spies.
They knew who he was. Maybe not what he was, but they knew the rumors.
And yet…
Eli smiled at the trees.
Not smug. Not menacing.
Just… a smile.
As if to say: I see you too.
The spies froze.
He could feel it — their confusion, their hesitation. But he moved on. Let them report what they wanted. He wasn't here to hide.
He was here to see if this place was worth a future.
Unfortunately, destiny had a sense of humor.
Because as Eli walked toward the main building, he tripped.
One leg, left lazily extended from a bench.
He stumbled forward, catching himself, then turned back toward the source.
"Seriously?" came a voice. "Of all people to trip over me, it had to be a smiling mess."
Eli blinked.
The girl had braids — dark and glossy, pulled back into a high tail. Her skin was a rich chocolate tone, and her eyes… amber, but with faint streaks of static in them, like she was blinking through a storm only she could see.
She was still watching him.
Arms crossed, expression unimpressed.
"You good?" Eli asked gently.
"I'm not the one who faceplanted," she shot back, pouting just slightly.
Eli smiled, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry. Kinda overwhelmed."
"Emotionally or mentally?"
"Yes."
That earned a snort from her. "Great. I get paired with a walking fortune cookie."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You shouldn't."
But she didn't look away. If anything, she studied him closer. As if she were trying to match the rumors to the reality.
"Name's Eli," he said, offering a hand.
She ignored it, but not unkindly. "Taye. Don't trip again."
Eli nodded, then continued toward the massive front archway as the entrance chime echoed.
Supe School.
Even now, the term made him twitch a little. "Supe" was a dumb slang word in the 21st century, born from comic book fandoms and internet memes. But by the 22nd century, it was standard vocabulary. Just like "mutie" before it, just like "meta," "post-human," and every other label that tried to make sense of powers in an ever-mutating world.
Eli walked through the main corridor, surrounded by polished steel, glass floors, and floating platforms that carried the wealthier candidates straight up to testing floors.
He chose the stairs.
It kept him grounded.
At the second landing, a table awaited. Three proctors stood behind it, handing out badges — small hexagonal tokens with embedded sensors.
When it was Eli's turn, the proctor barely glanced up. "Name?"
"Elijah Marris."
Pause.
The proctor's eyes flicked to his face. Recognition. But nothing said.
"Testing Hall C. Room 42. Don't lose your badge."
Eli nodded and made his way in.
Inside Hall C, it was dead silent.
Just the scratch of pens. The shuffling of shoes.
It was a stark contrast to the buzzing world outside.
Eli was handed a paper test — ten multiple-choice questions, five written ones.
No math.
Thank god.
But science and history? That was Supe School's bread and butter.
Every student was expected to understand the science of their powers and the history of superhuman conflict. Ethics. Strategy. Tactics. All were necessary. This wasn't college. This was war college for powers.
Eli sat down and got to work.
The multiple choice was easy. He could tell most of the others were struggling — not because of lack of knowledge, but anxiety clouding their focus. He did his best not to accidentally absorb it.
Then came the written questions.
One by one, he answered.
And then — the final question:
"What kind of hero do you think you are?"
Eli stared at the page.
His pen hovered.
He could lie. He could say strategic, noble, selfless — the kinds of answers that earned applause.
But he didn't.
He wrote three words.
"An Empathetic One."
He slid the paper to the edge of the desk and stood.
The proctor, an older woman with graying hair and bright lenses over her eyes, took the paper, scanned the front, then flipped to the final question.
She read it.
Smiled faintly.
Then nodded toward the hallway.
"Admitted."
Eli walked through the open door, where a blue scanner checked his badge. Then he passed into the next stage.
The Combat Court.
The moment he entered, the air changed.
Hot.
Thick. Heavy.
And in the center stood a man built like a freight train — arms like slabs of iron, bald, with veins pulsing on his forehead. His eyes were glowing faint orange, and—
Was he… breathing steam?
Eli's brow furrowed.
What did he do?
The man took a step forward, boots cracking the floor beneath.
Eli blinked.
Had he accidentally amplified the proctor's emotions?
No… maybe…
The man pointed at him with a finger the size of a steak knife.
"You," he growled. "I don't know what trick you pulled… but I'm gonna knock that smug aura right off you."
Eli just stood there, eyes wide.
Not in fear.
In disbelief.
The chapter ended with the combat court shimmering, shields flickering to life around them.
And the man across from Eli snarling like a wild animal.