I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 112 – Rejected & Approved

- Oliver -

As soon as the announcement of the third test’s start echoed through the corridors, the entire base seemed to shift. Almost instantly, the hallways filled with a sense of purpose—footsteps quickening, voices lowered to hurried whispers, tension sparking in the air. A few visibly dejected recruits were heading out, their heads bowed and shoulders heavy, lamenting their failure to earn a place in the next stage. But for everyone else—those who remained—there was no exception: all were pressing onward to the fourth floor.

Oliver felt a strange mixture of relief and resolve. He had earned another shot, after all. Yet, as he passed through crowds of new officials, he sensed their disdainful glances—some narrowed eyes, some dismissive smirks. An uneasy thought crossed his mind. ‘How is it possible that my reputation has managed to drop even further? It is lower than it was during the Academy days.’

Everywhere along the fourth-floor corridors, dozens of soldiers and officers directed them toward the arena. This time, instead of waiting outside for their turn, the organizers merged all the individual arenas into a colossal stadium, allowing everyone to witness the trial together in one place.

"Keep moving forward! Upon entry, use your gauntlets to locate your seats!" one of the soldiers shouted nearby.

As Oliver passed through the immense doors of the arena, he found himself inside a vast stadium. Just behind him, Katherine and Isabella also gaped in amazement at the grand structure.

The three stood atop towering bleachers with dozens of rows descending before them. Each seat was marked with a number.

Oliver glanced down at his gauntlet, which displayed his ranking on the second trial: #6121, and where that seat was.

‘Damn, mine is way over there,’ Oliver thought, noting his assigned spot was far from where they stood.

"I'm going to have to head to the other side of the stadium," Oliver said to the girls, who nodded as they parted ways, each bound for separate parts of the enormous arena.

Oliver settled into one of the highest and most distant seats in the massive stadium, though there were still others seated even farther away. From his vantage point, he had an unobstructed view of the entire arena. At its center stood a platform resembling a stage, and atop it rested an enormous crystal ball that shimmered under the arena lights.

Behind the crystal stood five imposing chairs, each occupied by a general. Their partially activated armor helped Oliver recognize most of them from afar. The only one he had never seen was the general seated at the far end, clad in black armor.

As time passed, the stadium gradually filled. Every seat was taken, the air buzzing with recruits' hushed conversations and the hum of anticipation. Above them, dozens of drones hovered like mechanical bees, their lenses capturing every entrance and exit and every expression on the faces of the high-ranking officers and generals.

"Attention!"

The sudden command snapped Oliver from his thoughts. His eyes darted back to the center of the arena, where General Quinn of the Red Rangers now stood, her presence commanding silence.

"The final examination will commence now," Quinn announced, her voice amplified to reach every corner of the stadium. "Each of you will be called based on your ranking from the last trial. Remember, the minimum requirement to join a division is to achieve at least a 50% synchronization in any of them. Additionally, you can only select a division if you have attained at least 10% compatibility with that specific division."

Oliver recalled these instructions from the first day. Quinn's gaze swept over the assembled recruits.

"Furthermore, be advised," she continued. "The General of your chosen division has the authority to accept or deny your request. Should your choice be declined, you will have the opportunity to negotiate with another division."

With that, Quinn returned to her seat, the weight of her words lingering in the air.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. This last point wasn't widely known, stirring both concern and speculation among the recruits. From the snippets of conversation, Oliver overheard, it was rare for someone to be rejected outright. However, in instances where divisions were unbalanced or had specific needs, a candidate might be turned away to prioritize another division's requirements.

Oliver felt a flicker of unease gnawing at the back of his mind—the nagging doubt that he might not have sufficient synchronization to be selected. But before the anxiety could take hold, a familiar voice whispered soothingly in his ear.

"Don't worry about that. You have it. I know you do," Athena's voice resonated softly, her words seeping into his consciousness and steadying his nerves.

Oliver exhaled slowly, her reassurance calming the tumult within. ‘How does she know?’ he wondered briefly, but there was no time to ponder. The proceedings were beginning.

"Number One," Quinn's authoritative voice projected through the arena, silencing the lingering chatter.

All eyes turned as a petite girl descended from the stands, moving with a grace that belied her size. Oliver recognized her instantly—he'd watched her performances repeatedly during the previous tests. She possessed the remarkable ability to turn invisible and moved with extraordinary agility.

‘Which division is she aiming for?’ Oliver mused. ‘Maybe the Red Rangers? She'd excel in stealth missions. Combat might not be her forte, but perhaps that wouldn't matter.’

As she reached the center of the arena, an officer standing beside a large, gleaming sphere gestured for her to approach. She stepped forward, placing her hand upon the crystal surface. Instantly, the sphere pulsed with intense light. Above them, a holographic display flickered to life, numbers and symbols materializing slowly.

One by one, the synchronization percentages appeared:

? Yellow Division - 11%

? Blue Division - 23%

? Red Division - 12%

⬛️ Black Division - 8%

? Pink Division - 4%

As the final digits settled, a bold notification flashed across the hologram:

| Rejected

A stunned silence enveloped the crowd. The girl's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the verdict. She turned to the officer beside her, her voice rising, edged with desperation. The hovering drones captured every word, broadcasting her protest to the entire arena.

"How is this possible?! I'm the top-ranked candidate! This crystal must be malfunctioning!" she exclaimed, her frustration echoing through the arena.

Before the officer could respond, a palpable wave of energy rippled through the air. Oliver felt it wash over him—a formidable force that pressed him back against his seat, making it hard to breathe. He scanned the generals seated behind the sphere but couldn't discern who had released the energy burst.

‘Almost as strong as John's... maybe even stronger. Feels like an immense weight pushing down on me,’ he thought, both awed and apprehensive.

The girl's outburst ceased abruptly. The invisible pressure seemed to silence her, her defiance evaporating in the face of overwhelming authority. After a tense moment, she lowered her gaze and began walking toward the exit, shoulders slumped.

Quinn's gaze swept over the assembled candidates, her expression stern. "Do not dare to delay us or the others," she declared coldly. "Get your results and promptly leave the arena."

A heavy silence followed her words, the weight of the situation sinking in for everyone present. The realization was stark—ranking first didn't guarantee acceptance.

With the earlier demonstration still fresh in their minds, the remaining candidates continued the steady procession down to the crystal. Each approached in turn, touching the gleaming sphere and watching as their results were projected above. As had been explained, the approval rate hovered around 50%. Oliver was struck by how even some of the top performers from previous rounds were consistently rejected.

Minutes slipped by, and the evaluations began to blur into monotony. Faces came and went, many unfamiliar to Oliver, their outcomes varying between fleeting elation and quiet disappointment. His attention wavered—that is, until the announcer called out, "Number 178."

Oliver's gaze snapped back to the center of the arena. The ever-enthusiastic Isabela descended the steps with buoyant energy. Her short, curly hair danced around her face, catching the light as she hurried toward the crystal.

'It'll turn out fine. Good luck," Oliver whispered under his breath, his heart lifting. He was both hopeful and intensely curious about his friend's results.

Like those before her, Isabela approached the enormous crystal at the heart of the arena. She placed her hand upon its smooth surface. Immediately, the crystal began to pulsate with a rhythmic glow, its light ebbing and flowing like a heartbeat. The arena fell into a hushed silence as all eyes turned to the holographic display materializing above.

One by one, the synchronization percentages appeared beside their respective division symbols:

? Yellow Division - 68%

? Blue Division - 6%

? Red Division - 13%

⬛️ Black Division - 16%

? Pink Division - 0%

A pause hung in the air before the final verdict flashed boldly:

| Approved

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