Test of Will

The recruitment center's testing field was a sprawling arena of technology and raw human effort. Sections of the ground were divided into numerous testing areas, each buzzing with activity as groups of 500 recruits cycled through their paces.

Giant screens hovered above, displaying the time remaining for each group and the names of those who passed to the next phase.

Not to mention, the air was filled with the mechanical hum of machines, the sharp beeps of timers, and the heavy breathing of recruits pushing their limits, made the recruitment process an the more lively.

Varian found himself in a particularly rigorous section of the field, where muscular testing stations were set up alongside gene compatibility scanners, all overseen by stern-faced military officials calling out names and checking test results. This was the first part of the three assessments, the physical one.

A vast track field adjacent to this area was lined with spectators, mostly families and friends who had come to watch, their cheers and shouts creating a lively backdrop as though this was a track meet back on Earth.

As Varian awaited his turn, he decided to watch others tackle the strength test, noting the varying degrees of struggle and success. The device on his wrist beeped softly, signaling that it was his time to step up.

He then approaches a servitor, its voice monotone yet clear. "Candidate Varian, please proceed to testing station five for muscular strength assessment."

Varian nodded, a surge of adrenaline shoots through him as he made his way to the designated station.

The machine was a robust assembly of weights and sensors, designed to measure the force output and endurance of each recruit.

"Ready when you are," said a nearby official, a clipboard in hand. He was a burly man with sharp eyes under a furrowed brow, watching Varian with a mix of curiosity and scrutiny. Varian may have been by far the youngest recruit.

Varian gripped the machine's handles, his palms sweaty but steady. "Alright, it's showtime baby," he muttered to himself, then, louder, "Starting now."

He began exerting pressure, the machine then whirred to life, gauges flickering rapidly as they measured his output. Varian pushed harder, his muscles tensed visibly, his veins stood out against his skin as he surpassed normal human limits. Hell, surpassed normal children's limits.

The reading of 600 kg on the machine didn't just surprise the monitoring official; it left him shocked.

A 10-year-old boy exhibiting such immense strength was unheard of, practically impossible. The official who was observing Varian's assessment hesitated for only a moment before he turned and swiftly walked away to fetch his superior.

"This kid, he's showing impossible numbers. I'm bringing him to you for a retest," he spoke rapidly into the device. Turning back to Varian, he said with a mix of anxiety and curiosity,

"It has got to be a malfunction right, sir?," he asked after he explaining the situation to a senior officer.

Together, they returned to observe Varian, to which they direct him to another testing machine in order to verify the initial reading.

Varian, feeling the weight of the spectators' eyes on him, nodded and followed the official. The new machine loomed ahead, its screens and bars gleaming under the field's bright lights.

Once again, he gripped the handles, the official nodded, and the test began. The numbers climbed: 550 kg, 580 kg, 600 kg... stopping finally at 601 kg.

The crowd erupted in murmurs of astonishment. "Did you see that? It's even higher!" one spectator exclaimed, her voice laced with disbelief as she questioned her teen son.

"It must be a malfunction," he muttered back, shaking his head.

But the official, now pale, was already motioning to someone in the distance. "We need to confirm this, get the manual weights!"

As heavier, conventional weights were brought over, Varian prepared himself. He lifted the weights with the same ease as before, his form flawless, the crowd's whispers growing louder with each lift.

While everyone else was gawking and not believing, a Space Marine, observing from a distance, finally stepped forward, his massive frame cutting through the crowd like a ship through water.

He approached Varian, his face stern and impassive. Extending his hand, he said in a deep voice almost like a growl, "Let's see if your strength is as the machine says, young one."

Varian, looking up into the Space Marine's imposing eyes, grasped his hand. "Uh, alright?"

The marine did something simple, he'd press his weight down onto Varian's hands in order to confirm his strength. If Varian stops his push, then that means his strength was real. So, he began and unleashed about 1/13th of his strength. The marine noticed that he could go no further and went harder.

As the pressure increased, Varian's grip tightened. His body strained, but he held on, the Marine pressing harder once more, this simple test of strength became more of a test of will.

"You have spirit," the Marine noted, his voice approving even as he increased the pressure further.

Varian grunted, his arms shaking. "I won't... give up," he managed through clenched teeth, his face contorted with effort.

The crowd was silent now, all eyes fixed on the titanic struggle. Children stood on tiptoes to see better, and adults whispered prayers and bets under their breath.

One such adults, a pair of Under Hivemen, better cruelly against Varian.

"I bet that his twig ass arms break in half," the guy on the left says.

The other on the right laughs. "Well, Jono, I bet that the runt's spine breaks in two after his arms dislocate."

Others around them looked on in disgust and contempt at these fellows from the Under Hive.

Finally, Varian's strength gave out, and he collapsed to unconsciousness, the Marine caught him before he hit the ground. The crowd's reaction was immediate—some cheered Varian's bravery, others questioned the Marine's judgment.

"He's just a boy!" someone shouted from the back, anger by the scene that played out.

"He took on the challenge himself," another countered loudly, admiration clear in his tone.

The scene, captured by countless recording devices, sparked a flurry of reactions across various media outlets in just this short span of 2 minutes.

Some criticized the Marine for what they perceived as a harsh and unnecessary test, mainly being heretics of the Imperium, branding him harshly in holo-posts and whispers.

However, others defended the spectacle, highlighting Varian's consent and valor, portraying him as a hero who had risen to meet an extraordinary challenge of a Space Marine.

The Marine, looking down at Varian with what might have been the barest hint of a smile, spoke loudly enough for all to hear. "This young warrior has shown more heart today than many seasoned fighters. Honor him."

He lifted Varian with ease on to his shoulder, like a warrior carrying a downed brother from the battlefield.

Finding Aurelia in the crowd, he nodded solemnly to her. "He will be one of the finest, if you allow him into our care."

Aurelia, her face a mask of mixed emotions—pride, concern, relief—nodded back. "Thank you, brother Marine. He will indeed. I approve."

As the Marine carried Varian away for medical attention, the crowd parted respectfully, many faces showing newfound respect and awe for the boy who had stood toe-to-toe with one of the Imperium's finest in a show of insurmountable will.

As the Space Marine carried Varian away, the old noblewoman, Margravine Solaris, approached Aurelia with a look of astonishment mixed with a new understanding. "Lady Aurelia, my dear, today has indeed been full of surprises," she said, her voice carrying a mix of bewilderment and respect.

"Seeing Varian's strength, I now realize why you've always been so invested in his future. He's not just a child; he's a burgeoning force in his own right." Her eyes glanced back at the receding figure of Varian, then settled on Aurelia with a knowing look.

Aurelia doesn't respond but a huge smile stretched across her lips confirmed her thoughts.

"And to think, the Marine knew you were his mother by his marks. Clearly, you have friends in high places, ensuring that he is recognized for his potential," she added with a wry smile, hinting at deeper connections and a broader narrative unfolding around Varian's rise.

"Oh, no Madam Margravine, be not misguided in your thinking. Varian achieved due to his own strength ands opportunity," Aurelia responds, quick to sever whatever the hell Margravine insinuated.