Chapter 269: Ready.

The examination room was plain and functional, with grey walls that had darkened slightly with age and a single window that let in the pale morning light.

Nero stood in the center of the room, bare-chested, while Lyon circled him slowly with a measuring instrument in hand. The doctor’s movements were methodical and precise, taking measurements of Nero’s arms, chest, and legs with the same focused attention he might give to cataloging specimens.

“Hmm,” Lyon muttered, scribbling numbers into a small leather-bound notebook.

Nero shifted his weight from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to fidget. The floor was cold against his bare feet, and the morning chill hadn’t quite left the room yet despite the sunlight streaming through the window.

“Doctor,” Nero said finally, breaking the silence. “I don’t seem to be growing much bigger.”

Lyon glanced up from his notebook, one eyebrow raised. “And?”

“Well, I thought the Potion of Change was supposed to…” Nero gestured vaguely at himself. “You know. Make me grow.”

Lyon set down his device and crossed his arms, studying Nero with that expression he always wore when he was thinking through a problem. “Has anything else changed?”

Nero nodded. “My strength seems to have increased.”

“Is that… normal?” Nero asked, rolling his shoulders to work out the tension as Lyon returned to his seat opposite him.

Lyon snorted. “Normal? Most definitely not. But it is not as bad as you might believe.” He closed his notebook with a snap. “What Bishop gave you should have shown directional results within a few days. The fact that it’s taking longer suggests your body is processing the potion differently than expected. Instead of mere rapid visible growth, I believe you are experiencing concentrated internal changes. Your muscle density is increasing rather than your overall size.”

“Is that bad?”

“Bad?” Lyon shook his head. “It’s anomalous, but not necessarily problematic. In fact, for someone your size, having that kind of strength-to-weight ratio could be advantageous. You’ll be faster than the larger candidates while maintaining comparable power. But do not lose hope just yet.”

Nero absorbed this information, trying to decide if he should feel relieved or concerned. Before he could ask another question, Lyon held up a hand.

“Don’t think about it too much for now. What matters is whether you’re fit for the trials, not the specifics of how we got you there.”

He gestured for Nero to sit on the examination table again, a sturdy wooden structure padded with thin leather.

The examination took perhaps fifteen minutes, during which Lyon remained mostly silent except for occasional grunts of acknowledgment or requests for Nero to do things.

Finally, Lyon stepped back and nodded.

“Your conditioning is complete,” he said simply. “You’re fit to participate in the trials.”

The words hung in the air for a moment.

Nero released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a heavy sigh that seemed to carry months’ worth of tension out of his body all at once. He slumped forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the examination table.

’Finally.’

He had suffered so much.

He had undergone terrible things.

Truly terrible things that would have broken a normal human, mind, body and spirit.

There had been days when Nero woke up and couldn’t move for the first five minutes, his body so sore and exhausted that even breathing took effort, days when the elixirs Lyon made him drink caused such violent nausea or hallucinations that he’d spent hours doubled over a bucket running mad.

Days when the training with Sergeant Vane left him bleeding and broken on the arena floor, only to be patched up and sent right back in.

And through it all, the knowledge that this was all just preparation, that the real test was still coming, was just…

But he’d made it. He’d loved through it.

“Congratulations,” Lyon said. “You’ve done well, all things considered.”

Nero looked up, managing a tired smile. “Thanks. I think.”

Lyon’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement. He walked over to a cabinet on the far wall and retrieved Nero’s shirt, tossing it to him. Nero caught it and began pulling it on, grateful for the warmth.

“However,” Lyon continued, and Nero’s heart sank at that word. “Although it’s only been two weeks, I have one final mission for you.”

Nero’s hands paused in the act of buttoning his shirt. He looked at Lyon, his expression carefully neutral despite the groan building in his chest.

“A mission,” he repeated flatly.

“A hunting mission, to be specific.”

“Of course it is.” Nero finished buttoning his shirt and hopped down from the examination table. “What am I hunting this time? Please don’t say it’s another nightmare from beyond the veil of reality.”

Lyon actually smiled at that, a genuine expression that looked oddly out of place on his usually serious face. “Nothing quite so dramatic. Standard Abominations, Grade E and F mostly. We need fresh specimens for the medical wing, and you need practical field experience before the trials.”

Nero felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Lyon agreed, “except for one detail.”

“Which is?”

“You won’t be going alone.”

Nero frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lyon walked over to his desk and picked up a piece of paper, scanning it briefly before speaking. “The trials will begin in a few weeks. Before then, all candidates are required to complete at least one supervised field exercise. It’s meant to assess coordination capabilities and provide the evaluators with baseline performance data.”

“So I’ll be hunting with other candidates.”

“Precisely.”

Nero crossed his arms, thinking through the implications. “How many others?”

“Three, including yourself. The other two are…” Lyon consulted his paper again. “Arthur Koh, heir to House Koh, the governing house of the city of Liedenstorm, and Jacob Brimm, heir to House Brimm, one of the more prominent noble houses in the city.”

“Nobles,” Nero muttered.

“Did you expect anything else? The trials are primarily for noble families to secure their positions and advance their bloodlines. Commoners like yourself are mostly there to fill up the nunber’s quota. Most commoners do not even make it past the first stage.”

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