Apocalypse: All My Skills Are At Level 100

The hall was massive, a cavernous space that could easily hold a thousand people, yet it felt stifling.

The air was thick with nervous energy as hundreds of new students filed in, their faces a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Long banners bearing the crest of the Hunter Academy hung from the high ceilings, their edges fluttering slightly in the draft.

Elias found himself seated near the middle of the room, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Some students whispered anxiously to one another, while others sat in stiff silence, their focus unshakable.

Every now and then, a name or face stood out — someone with an air of confidence or the unmistakable gleam of wealth in their attire.

At the front of the room stood a raised platform, its surface polished to a mirror shine. An older man in a dark uniform stood off to the side, his expression stern as he surveyed the crowd.

Beside him was a younger man, perhaps in his early twenties, with a striking presence.

His white cloak bore a golden emblem, marking him as someone of great importance within the Academy.

"That's Dante Irons," someone whispered nearby. "The top-performing student. He's a prodigy."

Elias didn't react outwardly, but he couldn't help feeling a flicker of curiosity. Dante's name was spoken with reverence, even back in Sector 14.

Stories of his strength and cunning had reached even the most isolated settlements.

Dante stepped forward, his movements precise and deliberate, and the room fell into silence. His gaze swept over the crowd, sharp and calculating. When he spoke, his voice was steady and commanding.

"Welcome to the Hunter Academy," he began, his tone devoid of theatrics yet brimming with authority. "You've all been chosen because you survived the first trial — life in a world that wants you dead. But let me make one thing clear: surviving out there is not the same as thriving here."

Dante's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze seeming to pierce through each student. "The Academy is a crucible. It will test your limits, push you beyond what you think is possible, and strip away every illusion you have about strength. Out there, you've fought to live another day. Here, you will learn how to ensure humanity has a future."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "But not all of you will make it. Some of you will fail. Some of you will break. And some of you will realize this isn't the path for you. That's fine — better to find out now than out there, where failure means death."

Dante's gaze lingered on the crowd for a moment longer before he stepped back, his speech over. The room remained silent until the older man beside him clapped his hands sharply.

"Instructors, take your groups," he barked. His voice was rough, like gravel grinding against metal. "It's time to separate the strong from the weak."

Elias was ushered into a smaller group, about twenty students in total, and led out of the hall.

Their guide, a tall woman with short, silver hair and a scar running down her cheek, didn't bother with introductions.

She marched them through a series of winding corridors until they emerged into an open training yard. It was lined with various contraptions and devices, each one clearly designed to test the limits of human endurance.

"Listen up," the woman said, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. "I'm Instructor Varra. Today, you're going to prove whether or not you belong here. We'll start with the basics: strength, agility, and vitality. These tests will determine your initial standings in the Academy rankings. Fail to meet the minimum threshold, and you'll be sent home. Understood?"

A few murmurs of acknowledgment rippled through the group, but Varra's sharp glare quickly silenced them.

"Good. Form a line."

The strength test was first. A large metal platform stood in the center of the yard, its surface engraved with glowing runes.

Beside it was a towering machine with weights suspended on thick steel cables. Varra explained the rules with brisk efficiency: each student would step onto the platform and attempt to lift as much weight as possible.

The runes would measure not only the weight lifted but also the force applied.

One by one, the students stepped forward. The first was a broad-shouldered boy who grunted as he hoisted a modest weight.

The runes glowed faintly, displaying a score of 45. It wasn't exceptional, but it was enough to meet the threshold.

Next came a girl with a lean, wiry frame. She struggled with the weight but managed a score of 38 — barely passing.

As the line moved forward, Elias watched with growing unease.

Most of the students hovered around the 40–50 range, with only a few managing to break 60. One boy, clearly from a wealthier background, strutted forward and hit an impressive 72, earning a few murmurs of approval.

When it was Elias's turn, he stepped onto the platform, his heart pounding. The weight felt almost laughably light in his hands, but he hesitated.

'Don't overdo it. Don't draw attention.'

He adjusted his grip and lifted, aiming for a score that would blend in with the others.

The runes glowed brightly, displaying 68.

"Not bad," Varra said, her tone neutral. "Next."

Elias stepped aside, relief washing over him. He had managed to stay under the radar — at least for now.

The agility test was next. A long obstacle course stretched across the yard, filled with hurdles, swinging blades, and narrow beams. Varra explained that the course was timed, with penalties for mistakes.

The students took their turns, each one navigating the course with varying degrees of success.

Some stumbled over hurdles or hesitated on the beams, while others moved with surprising grace. The wealthy boy from earlier completed the course in just under two minutes, his smug expression returning as he rejoined the group.

When it was Elias's turn, he focused on staying calm. He moved quickly but deliberately, his enhanced reflexes making the course feel almost too easy.

Still, he made a point to stumble slightly on one of the beams, earning a few seconds' penalty. His final time was 1:47 — respectable, but not exceptional.

The final test of the day was vitality. The students were lined up and instructed to take a series of hits from a padded training dummy enchanted with a force spell.

The goal was to endure as much force as possible without collapsing.

Elias clenched his fists as he waited his turn, his thoughts racing. His vitality was maxed out — there was no doubt he could withstand the hits. But just like before, he couldn't afford to stand out.

When it was his turn, he braced himself as the dummy swung its heavy, padded arm into his side. The impact was jarring but far from painful.

He staggered slightly, feigning difficulty, and withstood a few more hits before stepping back.