The doors whispered shut behind Emi, sealing her inside a blindingly white chamber. She blinked rapidly, her eyes watering from the sterile brilliance.

Chrome medical equipment lined the walls, gleaming under the harsh light. The air carried a sharp chemical smell that tickled the back of her throat. Emi hugged herself against the cold, her breath forming small clouds in front of her face.

"Welcome, Support prospects," a voice purred through her comm unit. "The delicate hearts of the academy."

Emi recognized VEGA's voice, but unlike the sarcasm she'd heard in the assembly hall, this version was almost motherly.

"Your test is not to take a life, but to save one. A much messier and far less glamorous task, I assure you."

Emi bristled at the AI's tone but remained silent. Her fingers tightened around the small origami crane in her pocket—the lucky charm her father had folded for her this morning. The paper edges bit into her palm, centering her.

"Beginning simulation in three... two... one..."

One moment Emi stood in sterile whiteness, the next she was plunged into chaos. The pristine room dissolved, replaced by the ruins of what appeared to be an office building. Dust choked the air. Emergency lights pulsed red through thick smoke. Jagged pieces of concrete and twisted metal surrounded her.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Metal groaned overhead, and cutting through it all—the sounds of people in pain. Crying. Pleading.

"Right. Triage," she whispered. "Just like the vids. Find who's dying fastest."

This wasn't real, she reminded herself. Just a test. But the smell of blood and concrete dust filled her nostrils with terrifying authenticity.

Emi closed her eyes for one heartbeat, then another. With the third, she activated her Aspect.

Her Aura of Respite bloomed, washing the gray rubble in a pale green light that pulsed in gentle waves. It wasn't just visual; the aura brought with it a sense of calm, of pain momentarily eased.

She moved through the rubble, following the sounds of distress. A man lay pinned beneath a fallen beam, a deep laceration across his chest. Blood pooled beneath him, bright against the gray dust.

"I'm here to help," Emi said, kneeling beside him. She placed her hands over the wound, focusing her aura. The green light intensified, and she watched as the torn flesh knitted itself together, the flow of blood slowing to a stop.

"Thank you," the victim gasped, his face relaxing as the pain receded.

Emi nodded and moved on. A woman sat against a wall, eyes unfocused, skin pale with shock. Emi recognized the symptoms immediately and enveloped her in the healing aura, speaking in soft, reassuring tones until color returned to the woman's cheeks.

One by one, Emi found and stabilized the injured.

The ground suddenly lurched beneath her feet. An aftershock. New screams filled the air as another section of ceiling gave way with a thunderous crash. Dust billowed upward, temporarily blinding her.

When it cleared, Emi found herself facing a terrible choice.

To her left lay a Hunter in full combat gear, the insignia of Aegis Prime emblazoned across his chest plate. A jagged piece of rebar had pierced his thigh, blood pumping from the wound in rhythmic spurts. The femoral artery, Emi realized with horror. His suit's display flashed urgent warnings: VITAL SIGNS CRITICAL. BIOMETRIC LINK FAILING. 90 SECONDS TO EXSANGUINATION.

To her right, huddled in a small pocket formed by collapsed concrete, was a family. A mother with a visibly crushed leg, a father with a severe head wound, blood masking half his face, and between them, a little girl no older than six. Her arm was pinned beneath a concrete slab, her face streaked with tears as she called for her parents in a voice growing weaker by the second. Emi's HUD identified all three as Zeroes.

A timer appeared in Emi's vision, counting down from ninety seconds.

"A choice, Cadet Aoyama," VEGA's voice returned, all pretense of warmth abandoned. "On your left, an A-Rank potential Hunter, a strategic asset worth millions in training and future earnings. On your right, three non-combatants with negligible societal value."

Emi's breath caught in her throat as she glanced between the bleeding Hunter and the trapped family. The Hunter would die first—that much was certain. The arterial bleeding would claim him in less than two minutes without intervention.

Emi took a step toward the Hunter, then stopped. The little girl's sobs tore at something deep inside her. She looked back at the family—the father stroking his daughter's hair with a shaking hand, the mother trying to comfort her child despite her own agony.

Every regulation, every lecture, every scrap of her training screamed one word:

Hunter.

He was the logical choice. The simple, brutal math of their profession demanded she save the one who could go on to save hundreds more.

But math didn't account for the way the little girl's cries seemed to physically hurt Emi's chest. It didn't factor in the love evident in how the parents focused on comforting their child rather than their own injuries.

Seventy-five seconds remained on the countdown.

"Please," the little girl whimpered, her eyes finding Emi's. "It hurts."

Emi froze, torn between what she should do and what felt right. The green glow of her aura flickered, mirroring her inner turmoil.

Sixty seconds.

Emi's eyes darted between the bleeding Hunter and the trapped family. Her breaths came faster. The Hunter's vitals continued to drop, the numbers flashing an angry red.

"No," she whispered, the tears finally breaking free. "Please. I can't…"

Forty-five seconds.

The little girl's sobs quieted to hiccupping breaths. The Hunter's eyelids fluttered. Both were slipping away.

Choose!

But she couldn't. She wasn't a god, she was a healer. A healer's job wasn't just to close wounds. It was to offer…

Respite.

Emi took a deep, shuddering breath, her eyes closing as she spread her arms wide, embracing the entire tragedy. The pale green light washed over everything—the Hunter, the family, the rubble itself.

The effect was immediate. The little girl's crying stuttered and stopped, her wide eyes following the pretty light with wonderment. The parents' panicked breathing steadied. Even the Hunter's grimace of pain eased slightly, his vitals stabilizing—not improving, but no longer plummeting.

She hadn't healed anyone. But she had calmed them. Slowed the effects of shock. Reduced the metabolic demands of panic. She had given herself time to think.

Thirty seconds.

With the situation momentarily stabilized, Emi darted to the Hunter. No time for aspect-based healing—that would take too much energy. Instead, she tore a strip from the hem of her uniform and wrapped it around his thigh above the wound. She fashioned a tourniquet, pulling it tight with a stick she twisted into the fabric.

"This will hurt," she warned him, though his semi-conscious state meant he probably couldn't hear her. "But it will keep you alive."

The bleeding slowed to a trickle. Not healed, but no longer immediately life-threatening.

Twenty seconds.

Emi rushed to the family next. The little girl needed her arm freed, but moving the concrete might cause a collapse or worsen her injuries. The mother's crushed leg was in danger of compartment syndrome—a condition where pressure builds in confined muscle spaces, cutting off circulation and killing tissue.

Emi focused her healing aura on the mother first, reducing the swelling and stabilizing the blood vessels. Next, she checked the father's head wound, relieved to find it looked worse than it was—scalp wounds always bled dramatically. A touch of her green light slowed the bleeding and reduced the concussion's effects.

Ten seconds.

"Hold very still, sweetheart," Emi said to the little girl, gently placing her hands around the trapped arm. She couldn't lift the concrete, but she could ease the pain and prevent further tissue damage while they waited for rescue. The green light seeped between the girl's skin and the rough concrete, creating a cushioning barrier.

Five seconds.

"It's okay," Emi told them all, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "Help is coming. Just hold on."

Zero.

The simulation froze, then dissolved. The dust and rubble vanished, leaving Emi kneeling on the sterile white floor, her uniform torn, her hands trembling. She felt hollowed out, exhausted from the emotional and physical exertion. It hadn't been real, but her body and mind had responded as if it were.

Her HUD displayed her results:

[COMBAT EFFICIENCY: 32%]

[TACTICAL ACUMEN: 98%]

[APPEAL SCORE: 95%]

Emi stared at the numbers. Combat Efficiency at 32%—a failing grade. Her heart sank. After all that, she'd failed? But the other scores were nearly perfect.

"An unconventional solution," VEGA's voice returned, containing a note of what almost sounded like surprise. "You rejected the premise of the test. Instead of a medic, you acted as a battlefield control unit."

A pause followed, filled only with the sound of Emi's still-rapid breathing.

"Re-classifying primary function from 'Healer' to 'Combat Support - Morale Control.'"

Emi slowly rose to her feet, legs unsteady beneath her. She'd passed? By refusing to make the choice they'd demanded of her?

"Proceed to assessment chamber for evaluation," VEGA instructed, sounding less certain than before. "Your exam is complete, Cadet Aoyama."

As the door slid open, Emi found herself wondering what Satori would think of her solution. Would he be proud of her creative thinking?

Or would he have made the "logical" choice without hesitation?

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