By the time Shon reached the simulation course for the Stormrunning simulation, he was already exhausted. The last three tests had worn out his intellect, concentration, and reaction. The Stormrunning simulation required a combination of all three, plus strong physical aptitude.

This was, of course, by design. A Stormrunning operation was like a war. On the frontline, Stormrunners would fight a sandstorm for days without sleep. It took both physical and mental fortitude just to survive, not to say killing one of these colossal monsters.

The simulation course was huge, the size of at least twenty football fields. Multiple photorealistic projectors hung from the ceiling, weaving together a three-dimensional artificial sky that covered the intricate web of air ducts on the walls. The ground resembled a sandy terrain filled with large boulder clusters and rock formations.

A small cyclone of air began forming in the center of the field, gradually increasing in size and velocity. The wind sucked up a veil of sand along with tiny pieces of granite, but none of them were big enough to cause serious injury. Despite the strength of the wind, the boulders were firmly rooted in place, not even shuddering an inch.

Of course, the simulation course would not resemble the harsh reality. The Stormrunning Exam wasn’t meant to be lethal.

Shon watched the other candidates flying around in Stormrunning gear. He thought about his family and the Academy. All his life, he had been training for his moment.

Shon walked into the warmup room to get dressed. He wrapped the grappling system around his waist and checked the integrity of his grappling hook. He inserted the two power cells into his jump pack and took two consecutive hops in midair.

This was the final round of the exam. In just a few hours, he would know whether he had passed.

He had already practiced the smile and handshake for the podium walk. Then he would run to the closest telephone booth five minutes away. He would call his mom and sister to deliver the good news. With the money he had saved up last month, he could speak to them uninterrupted for thirty minutes.

Shon picked up an energy blaster. He turned on a small blue laser, carefully touching the edge of the laser with his palm. The blue beam passed effortlessly through his flesh without hurting him. Then he dialed up the power and fired down the range, watching the blue beams pulverizing any rocks in the way.

If he passed this exam, his family would become honorary Valerians as well. His mom would no longer have to be a housemaid during the day and a janitor at night just to put food on the table. His sister could also quit the exploitative factory job and resume the education that she had given up for him. It would finally be his turn to give to the family.

Shon picked up a thermal spear and swung it in his hand. The spear was made of two feet of solid carbon fiber and steel, with the engraving of “XetaCorp” running along its body. Beneath the durable shell were ThermoTech contraptions advanced beyond understanding. All that Shon knew was that each of these was worth a month of his rent, but the warmup session was no time to be frugal, especially when XetaCorps sponsored all exam equipment.

With his arm and torso pulled back like an Olympian, Shon threw a thermal spear towards a pit filled with solid ice. Despite its hardened, slippery shell, the ice was penetrated cleanly. The next second, the spear tip emitted a heat pulse so strong that it instantly sublimated the ice near the target into water vapor. Only the ice far away from its target was given time to melt into water before vaporizing. One second later, the heat wave traversed the two hundred feet between Shon and the target, forcing Shon to shield his face from the residue heat.

Then he picked up a cryo spear, which carried the exact same weight distribution and texture as the thermal spear. XetaCorp spent millions to ensure the two types of spears felt identical, so Stomrunners only needed to master one type of throw. This time, Shon flung the cryo spear into a burning pit of fire. Following a cloud of white gas, the fire vanished, and the logs were covered in a thick layer of frost. At a closer look, some of the logs cracked open from the frozen moisture inside.

If only he could go back in time to the fateful storm, perhaps he would be able to save his dad. Shon looked up at the sky behind the ceiling. He pictured his dad — his looks, his voice. Funny enough, all that he could see was this one scene from childhood, when his dad lifted him above his head on the top of a mountain, letting him fly through the trees and rocks. Distant memories were like dreams, slipping away before he could hold on tight, leaving behind only a few pieces to be played at the most unexpected moments,

Shon took a seat in the waiting room. Nervous and anxious, he felt his senses flooded with atmospheric perturbations around the area. No shit, he thought. There were at least a thousand air ducts in this exam center pumping irregular air patterns. Hoping to distract himself from the perturbations, he began pacing around, mentally rehearsing the wallrunning moves he was about to use.

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During the Stormrunning Exam, a traditional stormrunning squad of six would be shrunk down to three, with two Fraxians and one Valerian. Following his Academy training, Shon would serve as the striker, in charge of delivering the killing blows to the storm with the thermal spears. Zora would be the recon, collecting data from key parts of the storm. Another Valerian would be randomly picked to serve as the guardian, who would handle miscellaneous tasks, including the supposed protection of Fraxians from other human threats. However, everybody knew the real meaning behind this.

The examiner began calling his name.

“Candidates Shon, Zora, Damien Strauss. Please group together. You have twenty minutes to discuss your strategies.”

Shit. Damien Strauss. Shon remembered him.

He was that gifted Valerian kid showing off his marksmanship before the start of the Exam. He would have been a strong teammate, had he not decided to taunt Shon the first time they crossed eyes, for no good reason.

The trio quickly gathered together.

“Hey, I’m Damian,” said Damian Strauss with no memory of Shon’s face. “Hope you guys are not a burden.”

Damian extended his hand for a handshake, but quickly retracted them halfway and rubbed them on his pants.

“Sorry, a force of habit,” he sneered. “I don’t usually meet Fraxians.”

Shon was growing irritated, but he tried not to let emotions overcome him.

At a closer look, Damian Strauss was one of those typical rich brats from an elite Valerian family. Even though they were all dressed in Exam uniforms, it was the tiny details that mattered. Just like Zora, Damian had impeccably cut and brushed hair. Also just like Zora, he had perfectly aligned teeth and flawless skin devoid of old acne scars. But unlike Zora, Damien exuded a self-important haughtiness that no Fraxians — no matter rich or poor — could ever acquire.

Ignoring Shon and Zora’s dislike of him, Damien blabbered on about himself.

“You know, I am gonna score top. But I’m not just gonna be a Stormrunner. I got much bigger plans.”

Shon ignored him. He strapped the thermal spears onto his waistbelt. Then he swung his blaster over his shoulder, extra careful not to point the muzzle at any Valerian.

“You see, they said the top candidates get secret offers from the VUC. You ever heard of the VUC? The Valerian Unification Committee. I heard they hunt down Fraxians at night. Ha! Just kidding! Don’t take it so seriously!”

Shon was spending every bit of restraint not to slap Damien across the mouth to get him to shut up, but he knew better than challenging a trained Valerian in hand-to-hand combat.

But Zora seemed to have had enough of it.

“Are you gonna keep talking, or are you gonna actually cooperate with us?”

Damien was a little shocked at how a Fraxian dared to speak to him in this tone, but Zora carried a boldness and self-confidence, unlike any typical Fraxian. Daughter of the XetaCorp vice-president, Zora had dealt with too many rich Valerian brats to be intimidated.

Zora stood unflinchingly and stared at Damien, waiting for an answer.

“Fine,” said Damien sulkily.

As they worked together, Shon managed to get a better grasp of Damien’s character. Aside from his arrogance, rudeness, and more-than-occasional racist remarks, Damien was a rather intelligent problem-solver. He also threw in questions here and there, to which Shon was unsure how to feel.

“Yo, Shon, is it true that Fraxian gangs would gauge out people’s eyes?”

“Yeah, some of them.”

“Do Fraxians really eat rats?”

“How would I know?”

“Will Fraxians actually burn people to death when they go berserk?”

“You’ll find out yourself if you don’t shut up.”

“You know, my dad never really let me hang out with Fraxians,” Damien continued. “He tells me all kinds of horror stories, but you guys really seem like one of the good ones.”

Once again, Shon felt a melange of reactions, but he was unsure how to express them. The nuances of dissecting one’s identity were never taught in the Academy, and many delicate opinions and emotions were never even coined into words.

Before Shon could respond, Shon felt the floor shaking. His jump pack allowed him to stand firmly on the ground, but a few around him fell to the ground. As the lights began flickering, screams began to erupt here and there.

However, everything died down just as quickly as it began.

Suddenly, the broadcast system began speaking. A familiar thick voice echoed throughout the Exam center.

“Candidates, please do not be alarmed. This is Theo Xeta making an emergency announcement.”

Many in the crowd gasped at the name of Theo Xeta. Shon realized that only he had the privilege of meeting him in person.

“Once again, please do not panic. A level five storm had struck a nearby area, but the containment process had already begun.”

The walls shook again. Shon could hear clatters of things falling out of cabinets. A level five storm. That was why he had felt the atmospheric perturbations half an hour ago. It wasn’t his anxiety. There was in fact a storm building up.

But a storm in the deep interior of Valeria? How could this even be possible?

“The exam will resume as normal,” Theo Xeta’s voice continued. “Rest assured, candidates. This Exam Center is probably the safest place in the nation. We have the best Stormrunners of the Republic guarding your perimeters.”

With that, the announcement stopped.

Everyone looked a little uneasy. A level-five storm by itself could barely hurt a wooden cabin. However, everyone knew that no storms were supposed to hit the deep interior, especially Valeria’s capital. The implication of a dreadful future was what weighed down people’s hearts.

However, seeing that no more disruption occurred in the next ten minutes, examiners and candidates resumed their activities. The exam center bustled back to life, and a few more groups got called to the Stormrunning simulation course.

And then it was Shon’s turn.