(Rodova Military Academy – Psychological Evaluation Hall, Outside the Testing Chamber)

Leo walked alongside his batchmates, following the silent procession down the long, heavily secured corridor leading to the psychological testing chamber.

No one spoke.

Not because they were told to keep quiet, but because no one wanted to be the idiot who looked excited for a test that could single-handedly decide their future.

The hallway was lined with multiple security gates, their reinforced steel frames gleaming under the cold white lights above. For a simple psychological evaluation, the amount of security here felt excessive. But the academy didn't take risks.

After all—this wasn't just an exam.

It was a screening.

Soon, they reached the end of the corridor, where a set of heavy black double doors loomed ahead. A row of metal chairs lined the wall beside it, and without instruction, everyone took a seat.

One by one, recruits were called into the testing chamber—each name barked out by a bald, no-nonsense instructor standing by the entrance, while the rest of them sat in silence, waiting for their turn.

*******

At first, the whole hall was eerily quiet.

The only sounds were the ones made by students occasionally shifting on their seats, restlessly tapping their feet against the floor, or someone cracking their knuckles a little too loudly.

Then, someone with more nerves than sense finally spoke.

"Fuck, this is the one test we can't fake."

A scrawny recruit with a buzz cut ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply.

Next to him, a muscular guy with a thick scar running across his cheek clicked his tongue in agreement.

"No shit. Physical tests? You can train for those. Genetic potential? You're born with that." He leaned back, his posture too relaxed for someone facing a psychological interrogation. "But this? This is just a fancy way of figuring out if you've got the brain of a psycho or the soul of a bitch."

A dark-haired girl scoffed, crossing her arms.

"They hook you up to a machine, put your ass in a chair, and start asking questions you can't lie about." She rolled her neck, popping the joints. "Doesn't matter what you say—if your brain says otherwise, they'll know."

"That's bullshit," Buzz Cut muttered. "How the fuck is that even fair?"

A guy with a tattoo snaking up his forearm chuckled, his voice a strange, raspy hiss.

"Life'ssssss not fair, dumbassssss," he sneered, flicking out a forked tongue. "Didsn't you get the smemo?"

Leo's eyes flicked toward the speaker and he instantly noticed the genetic modification. The recruit was one of the enhanced, a snake hybrid of some kind.

The murmurs continued.

Then, of course, the real idiots started talking.

A recruit with slicked-back blond hair—the type who looked like he thought he was better than everyone else—let out a scoff.

"The only thing that matters is getting into the Elite Class." He leaned forward, smirking. "No one from the regular class ever makes it big in life. It's a fucking death sentence."

Scar-cheek snorted. "Yeah, well, neither does failing this test, dumbass. They catch you with the wrong 'mental inclinations,' and you're done."

Tattoo-guy chuckled again, shaking his head. "Imagine losing your sssspot over sssome dumb shit like sssympathy for the Evil Cult or a desssire to burn down the academy."

And then—

BANG.

The test room doors slammed open so violently that even the cockiest recruits snapped their heads up.

Two instructors stormed out, dragging a recruit by the arms.

The guy looked wrecked.

Blood smeared his lips, one of his front teeth was missing, and his nose was bent at an angle that sure as hell wasn't natural.

The student thrashed weakly, his breath ragged, panic flooding his wide eyes.

"It's a mistake! It's a mistake!" he screamed, his voice cracking.

The instructors didn't even flinch.

"I'm not an Evil Cult Sympathizer! I swear! I was just curious! I only said the Dragon Candidates sound cool because they're powerful, it doesn't mean I like the Evil Cult!"

His words blurred together, desperate and drowning in hysteria.

"Wait—wait! I'm not connected to the Evil Cult! You have to believe me!" He begged, but no one believed him.

No one cared.

The two instructors yanked him forward, dragging his ass out of the waiting room like he was a bag of trash.

And for a brief moment, no one moved.

Then—

Laughter.

Tattoo-guy grinned, shaking his head. "Holy sfuck, did he just admit that ssshit out loud?"

Scar-cheek let out a sharp laugh. "An Evil Cult Simp trying to sneak into Rodova? What a dumbass."

Buzz Cut whistled. "Imagine getting your face smashed in over some admiration kink."

Blondie leaned forward, his smirk widening.

"You know, for a second, I thought they were gonna snap his neck in front of us."

Dark-haired girl snickered. "They should've."

Leo sat still, observing.

His expression remained unreadable, but his mind was racing. This situation wasn't funny. Not to him at least.

A minute later, the two instructors returned. Blood still staining their gloves.

"We do not tolerate Evil Cult Sympathizers in Rodova Military Academy." The bald instructor said, as he let the weight of his words sink in.

Then, he leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto the recruits like a predator scenting weakness.

"If you have even the slightest soft corner for the Evil Cult, you'd be better off slitting your own throat right now."

The words landed like a hammer.

A few recruits stiffened and the instructor smiled.

It was an ugly, knowing smile.

"Because if we catch you—"

He let the silence stretch.

Long.

Uncomfortable.

"—you'll wish you were dead."

Then, just like that, he straightened.

The smirk vanished, as he turned toward the list in his hand.

"Leo Skyshard, you're next, boy." He said, as he scanned the crowd for a Leo Skyshard, until Leo slowly got up.

"Chop Chop!" He urged, as he clapped his hands and pointed for Leo to quickly get in.