The interviews were conducted within a sealed chamber—its walls woven from magical runes that shimmered faintly, blocking outside noise and interference. The room was quiet, but far from private.
What many didn't expect was that the interview was being broadcast live to every corner of the Academy. The moment it started, every screen and channel tuned in, from dormitories to training halls.
Six selectors, one from each faction, sat behind a long obsidian desk. Their gazes were sharp, composed, and unreadable.
The first group of ten freshers sat rigidly in front of them, seated in a single row of chairs. Most looked nervous, hands clenched or knees bouncing. This wasn't just an interview—it was a test of nerves, poise, and composure.
Johnny Singer, the flamboyant yet sharp-eyed selector from House Aether, leaned forward and began with a flourish.
"My dear juniors, let's begin with a simple introduction," he said, smiling charmingly while tapping a stack of ten application forms in front of him. "From left to right, please state: your full name, hometown, age, your ambition for joining the Hero Academy… and your hobby."
The student on the far left stood up awkwardly.
"I'm… C-Cornburger Junior from—"
Bam!
Laughter erupted across the Academy.
The watchers, mostly upper-year students, couldn't help but burst out laughing at the odd name and the student's trembling voice.
Some argued that the selectors were purposefully applying psychological pressure, testing how these newcomers performed under intense scrutiny.
Before the laughter faded, a cool, stern voice cut in.
Priya Yaisnavi, the elegant yet cold selector from House Umbra, raised an eyebrow and spoke without smiling.
"Wait. What is that voice? Is that how you present yourself?" she asked icily. "Piece of advice, junior. This is going live on every channel in the Academy. Stand tall, clear your throat, and answer properly—with vigor and confidence."
Cornburger gulped, nodded, and straightened up. This time, his voice rang a little louder and steadier.
"I'm Cornburger Junior from New Sapphire Town. I'm fourteen years old. My ambition is to become a superhero. My hobby is cooking."
There was still a bit of awkwardness, but the sincerity was there.
Next was a confident youth who stood tall.
"This is Aaron Harbringer of the Harbringer Estate," he declared with crisp clarity. "I'll be thirteen next month. Born and raised here in Solaris, the City of Awaken. My ambition is to surpass my grandfather, who was once a Grand Knight. As for hobbies—other than Karate, I don't remember having any."
A soft murmur passed through the selectors' row. That name—Harbringer—held weight. And his presentation helped ease the tension in the room.
Student by student, the rest followed with their introductions—some stuttering, some bold, some bland, and a few genuinely impressive.
After all ten had introduced themselves, Trevor Noah, a stoic man in black robes from House Noxis, leaned back in his chair and asked the next question:
"What makes someone a hero… and someone a villain?
You may state similarities and differences. Each of you answer."
A ripple of uncertainty passed through the students. It wasn't a tough question on the surface—but it required introspection and perspective.
Cornburger Junior was the first to answer again.
He paused, blinked a few times, then offered his opinion:
"A hero is someone who saves others from danger. A villain is someone who harms the innocent… and engages in nefarious activities."
Trevor nodded slightly.
"A correct answer. Simple. Clean," he said. Then, after a pause, he added with a slight smirk, "But let me ask you this—what if someone without powers, an unawakened, saves a dozen people from danger? Would that person still be called a Hero?"
The room fell silent.
Cornburger's lips parted, but no words came.
Now, it wasn't just a quiz anymore—it was philosophy.
A heavy silence fell over the hall. Among the freshers seated in rows, it was the senior representatives of various factions who shifted uncomfortably the most. Most of them had long heard tales about Trevor Noah—his eccentricity, his obsession with moral dualities, and his strange tendency to frame every discussion like a lesson from an old philosopher's tome.
In whispers, the freshers referred to him by the nickname all upperclassmen knew:
"Wise-ass Old Fart Noah."
Murmurs broke out in corners of the hall.
"Isn't he going too far with this?"
"What kind of answer is he expecting?"
"Seriously, even the deans would struggle with this question."
Suddenly, a voice rang loud and firm from the audience.
"This kid is going overboard again!" Shelby stood up and pointed toward the screen. "Even the deans would have a hard time answering that one. Cut him some slack!"
His words echoed, silencing most of the muttering.
Trevor didn't even blink. Instead, he scribbled something in his notes as the interview rolled forward. Each fresher gave their own awkward or heartfelt version of what it meant to be a hero versus a villain.
The interviews lasted for over an hour, and group by group, the tension simmered.
Finally, Zane Carter's group was called.
They walked into the chamber and took their seats, facing the six selectors. The magical walls hummed quietly as the broadcast continued, reaching every corner of the Academy.
Johnny Singer from House Aether took the lead as usual. He repeated the same introduction instructions.
Zane stood up without hesitation.
"I'm Zane Carter from Whistler Town," he said calmly, eyes unblinking. "As for why I joined the Hero Academy—that's private. I don't wish to share it with any of you."
He paused, ignoring the narrowing eyes of a few selectors.
"I have no particular hobbies."
A heavy silence followed. The selectors exchanged glances.
That wasn't the kind of answer they wanted. No ambition? No friendly banter? No relatable background? Still, no one interrupted. Despite the tone, Zane's presence was commanding. His test performance was still fresh in everyone's memory.
Some selectors began skimming through his file, their fingers tapping over magical scrolls or crystalline tablets.
Then Trevor Noah spoke.
"Your father's name on the form… is left blank," he said, staring directly at Zane. "Any particular reason?"
The room froze.
Even among the fresher crowd, whispers resumed. But those who had come from Whistler Town were unfazed.
In the audience, Shelby's face darkened. His hands clenched tightly over the armrest. A sudden urge surged through him—to storm into the chamber and shut down the question. But he knew better. Interfering in the interview meant breaking Academy protocol, a serious offense.
It's better this way, he thought grimly. Sooner or later, they'd find out. No use hiding it anymore.
Zane didn't look at anyone. His voice dropped slightly—cold and sharp.
"That's none of your business," he said flatly. "I don't have a father."
Gasps echoed across the hall.
Priya Yaisnavi leaned forward, her brows furrowed.
"Isn't that a bit rude?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Zane looked at her without flinching.
"So what?"
Trevor's gaze hardened. "Calm down," he said. "I only meant to understand your background. There's nothing sensitive in that, is there? Be respectful. We're your seniors."
Priya added, her tone laced with provocation, "Yes. If this attitude continues, you'll find it very difficult to survive here."
Zane's eyes flicked across the row of selectors.
His next words came slow, steady, and deliberate.
"Respect? Answering you people at all is me showing respect. I could have just stayed silent, and that would be my right. I already told you—I don't intend to join any of your factions. So let's stop pretending this is anything but a formality."
Gasps, again. Even some of the senior students watching the interview from the broadcast screen sat upright, stunned.
The chamber filled with a pregnant silence.