C-Team: From Here To The Multiverse

Leonidas stood in a quiet observatory room — a sleek office overlooking a pure white training chamber below.

The glass in front of him was one-way; he could see into the training room, but the person inside wouldn't be able to see him.

He kept his arms crossed, eyes scanning the space below as he waited.

The office itself was minimal but tasteful — clearly more of a workroom than a place to relax.

Clean white walls.

Scientific tools lining the side counters.

A digital whiteboard mounted to the far wall, softly glowing with dormant notes.

On the desk in front of him sat a small nameplate:

Souta Tanaka

And right beside him… was the man himself.

Souta looked to be in his late twenties — young, but with the eyes of someone who'd seen more than most.

He had a typical Japanese look, neither tall nor imposing, not particularly athletic or striking.

But there was something charming about him — an almost nerdy cuteness that came through in his soft features and round, wire-framed glasses.

He wore a crisp white lab coat over a simple black shirt, his dark brown hair slightly tousled in a way that made it look like he'd either just gotten out of bed or been up all night working.

Probably both.

He glanced over at Leonidas, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Leonidas kept his eyes on the chamber.

"Thanks for setting this up," he muttered.

"Of course," Souta replied, voice calm and curious. "I had been waiting to meet him too."

Inside the training room below, Haru was undergoing a full physical and mental evaluation.

Leonidas and Souta watched from the observatory, their eyes following his every movement.

Over an hour had passed.

Haru had been pushed through a series of assessments — running, lifting, striking, reaction tests, coordination drills, cognitive simulations.

He'd been told not to use any of his abilities — the goal was to test his baseline as a human.

His lifting strength?

About average for a guy his age.

Same for his running speed.

But his stamina and muscular endurance were notably above average — likely a result of the training Leonidas had been putting him through over the years.

His balance and agility were solid.

Striking force? Also good — nothing extraordinary, but clearly benefited from some technique and control.

Dexterity and spatial awareness were better than expected — above average, especially for someone with no combat background.

Mentally, Haru tested high.

Academically, his scores were inconsistent, but his raw intelligence — pattern recognition, adaptability, lateral thinking — was sharp.

The simulations they ran revealed something else, too:

Emotional intelligence. High. Very high.

He was self-aware.

Perceptive.

Capable of reading situations quickly and adjusting in real time.

But all of this, Leonidas knew, was within the range of a normal human from Earth.

In the grand scale of the multiverse… it was a humble starting point.

"He's clearly got potential," Souta said, arms folded as he took notes on a floating interface.

"At least for a human boy."

He tapped a few things on the display, speaking half to himself now.

"His strength metrics — particularly lifting, pushing, and explosive power — are on the lower end.

He'll need targeted anaerobic and power training to reach physical viability.

He could afford to cut a little too… his movement efficiency could improve with lower body fat and increased muscle mass in key areas—especially posterior chain and core stabilizers—and as for—"

Leonidas glanced sideways as Souta continued his deep-dive ramble.

"—but his proprioception is strong, and the kinesthetic feedback from the last agility set shows potential for high-tier motor control if trained properly. Combine that with the neuro-emotive response to the social pressure simulations, and—"

Leonidas didn't understand half of it.

But he smiled.

Seeing a genius like Souta getting excited over his nephew — putting so much care and thought into Haru's development — it was… endearing.

The kid had a long way to go.

But he was already making people believe.

But now… it was time for the real test.

Skyla turned toward Haru, catching his attention with a calm, professional look.

He stood in the center of the room, now dressed in a skintight training suit.

Gone was his school uniform — replaced with a stretch-fit, high-tech body suit that clung to him like a second skin.

To his surprise, it was shockingly comfortable.

Still, he was feeling it.

A full day of school.

Leaving Earth.

Arriving in an entirely new world.

Undergoing physical and mental trials for over an hour.

Now this.

His limbs felt heavier. His mind slower.

His body wasn't quite collapsing — but it was close.

Skyla, unfazed, held a datapad as she spoke.

"Haru, this will be your final test.

You'll be expected to take on kinetic holograms."

As she said it, they appeared.

Figures blinked into existence around him — humanoid but off.

Distorted mannequins made of light and tech.

They looked like a fusion of male and female — sculpted and symmetrical, but with an uncanny valley presence that made them eerily uncomfortable to look at.

There were a lot of them.

More than ten.

Maybe double that.

They stood still now, encircling him from all sides.

"They'll come at you in waves," Lucy explained.

"Don't worry — they can't hurt you.

At most, you'll feel a ghost-like pressure where they strike.

They're programmed for minimal damage, just enough resistance to push your limits."

She tapped something on her pad.

"Your task:

Use your abilities.

Take down as many as you can in five minutes."

Her emerald eyes met his.

"Can you do that?"

Haru wanted to roll his eyes.

Every part of him was aching.

But instead… he just nodded.

Quietly.

He was lucky to even be here.

Might as well see it through.

"Good."

Skyla gave a curt nod and gestured toward the exit.

"I'll be outside.

When you're ready to begin, just shout 'Start.'

That'll activate the holograms."

With that, she turned and silently exited the room.

The door sealed behind her.

And Haru was alone — in the middle of a glowing white chamber — surrounded by waiting shadows of light.

Haru's eyes began to glow — a brilliant, ethereal gold.

He pulled off his glasses and set them aside.

Then he stretched.

Cracked his knuckles.

Rolled his shoulders.

Bounced lightly on the balls of his feet.

"Ugh… long day, man…" he muttered under his breath.

The fatigue was real.

But whatever — he wasn't about to back out now.

"Might as well get this over with…"

He threw a few lazy shadow punches, testing his range.

Deep breath in.

Slow breath out.

Then, steady.

Focused.

"START."

The room lit up.

And they charged.

The mannequins — half-human, half-alien projections of light and code — launched forward from every angle, like a coordinated storm.

Haru's golden eyes snapped into full focus.

First instinct:

Create space.

He slipped left, then right — feet gliding across the floor with reactive grace.

Dodging. Slipping. Weaving through lazy strikes.

Letting the kinetic holograms come close — but never too close.

He didn't panic.

He processed.

Every movement entered his peripheral like a glowing diagram.

He didn't need to think.

He just… saw.

Positions.

Angles.

Blind spots.

Openings.

He moved with instinct sharpened by observation — light on his feet, reactive yet precise.

For now, he stayed on the backfoot.

Ducking. Turning. Pivoting.

But every moment was analysis.

Every step calibrated.

The data was stacking in his mind: their distance, their timing, their attack patterns.

Now he had them.

He had the rhythm.

The Spacing. The Range, and now even the Edge.

It was time to strike.

He turned and pivoted, letting the movement flow through him — and then he felt it.

The Manna.

That deep inner current pulsing through his body like a second heartbeat.

Just as Leonidas had taught him.

He gathered it through his limbs, through his breath.

His golden eyes gleamed brighter, pupils focused, and the hairs on his skin stood tall.

A thrill coursed through him.

That familiar, electric charge.

"Hhhhhh…

Forgot how good this feels," he breathed out.

Then he moved.

A jab.

A cross.

A sharp pivot — spinning roundhouse.

A follow-up palm strike.

He danced between the mannequins, striking one after the other, weaving through them with elegance and explosive rhythm.

Every dodge. Every hit. Every counter.

It wasn't just reaction.

It was awareness.

Precognition.

He could feel them before they even moved — Manna heightening every sense.

In this mode, he didn't feel like a tired high school otaku in over his head.

He felt like he had transcended himself.

"Let's try this, then," he muttered.

Two mannequins lunged toward him.

Haru ducked beneath their attacks, turned sharply, and planted his feet.

The Manna bubbled inside his chest — raw, unstable, but ready.

He raised his palms, channeled the energy forward—

And released.

A golden wave of force erupted outward, crashing through the mannequins in front of him like a kinetic shockwave.

They were thrown into the air like ragdolls.

But so was he.

The backlash slammed into his chest, launching him backward.

He flew, arms flailing midair, before crashing hard onto his back with a breathless grunt.

He blinked at the ceiling, dazed.

"Let's… not try that in battle again," he groaned, dragging himself upright.

His body felt hollow now — the toll of forcing out that Manna blast evident in every sluggish movement.

His breath was ragged.

His muscles screamed.

Even holding up his arms felt like a chore.

"That was not a good idea…" he wheezed, eyes scanning for the next wave.

He had taken down at least twenty of them.

Maybe more.

But they weren't stopping.

He rolled his shoulders, grit his teeth, and tried to focus one last time.

Meanwhile, up in the observatory—

Leonidas watched, arms folded, one eyebrow raised.

"Impressive, kid."

"Not exactly smart tactics," Souta chimed in, narrowing his eyes.

Leonidas smirked.

"True. But I'm more impressed he managed to exude his Manna at all.

Weak, sure. Unrefined. But I never even taught him that."

Souta whipped around to look at him.

"You're saying… he figured that out on his own?"

Leonidas nodded.

"Clearly."

"No way," Souta muttered, baffled. "So he not only learned to amplify his internal Manna under your training — which is hard enough — but also figured out how to extravert it by himself?

He really is his father's son."

"I know that for sure."

Back in the training room, Haru was fighting with whatever scraps he had left.

His punches were sluggish. Sloppy.

His legs wobbled.

His arms felt like they were filled with lead.

Every mannequin strike knocked into him — light enough not to hurt, but more than enough to irritate.

"That was a terrible idea," Haru moaned as he staggered backward, arms flailing.

He threw a slow, tired overhand.

It was dodged easily.

One mannequin stepped in, pulling its fist back.

A perfect counterpunch.

Lining up directly with Haru's jaw.