Martian Archer

The grand gates of Academy Horizon loomed before Leon as he took a deep breath. The recommendation letter was clenched in his fist, slightly crumpled from how tightly he had been gripping it.

This was it.

The moment he had fought, suffered, and almost died for.

He stepped forward, entering the examination grounds.

A Martian Among Elites

The Academy's entrance exam wasn't just some simple written test.

It was an event.

Hundreds of aspiring archers gathered in a massive open courtyard with towering holo-screens displaying the Academy's past champions.

Students from Earth's wealthiest families stood in groups, casually chatting about their expensive bows, private tutors, and the "laughably easy" entrance exam.

Leon, however, stood alone.

And people noticed.

"Hah, look at that guy's gear."

"Is he wearing Martian clothes?!"

"What's a dome-rat doing here?"

Leon ignored them.

He had no time for petty insults.

Instead, he walked straight toward the registration desk where a tired-looking receptionist barely glanced at him.

> "Name?"

> "Leon Ortez."

"Documents?"

Leon slapped the recommendation letter onto the desk.

The receptionist barely reacted—until her eyes flickered over the signature at the bottom.

Then, she froze.

Slowly, she looked up at Leon, her gaze now filled with disbelief.

"EVA-07… recommended you?"

A ripple of whispers spread through the nearby students.

"Did she say EVA-07? As in the Battle AI?"

"Wait, that thing still exists? I heard it was decommissioned for being too brutal."

"How did some Martian nobody survive her training?"

Leon ignored them.

The receptionist, still stunned, reluctantly stamped his form and handed him a contestant badge.

"Proceed to the waiting area. Your exam will begin shortly."

Leon took the badge without another word and walked past the crowd where the real harassment began.

The Jeering Crowd

"Hey, Martian! You get lost on your way to the scrapyard?"

"I didn't know they let dome-rats take the exam."

"Bet his bow is made of rusted metal and duct tape."

Leon kept walking.

"I heard Mars doesn't even have real gravity how's he gonna shoot properly?"

"Hey, Martian! Try not to float away, huh?"

Laughter erupted.

Leon didn't flinch.

He had dealt with worse.

The Lone Supporter

From the sidelines, a single loud voice cut through the mockery.

"THAT'S RIGHT, IGNORE THESE BRATS, KID! YOU'RE GONNA KICK THEIR ASSES!"

Every head in the crowd turned.

Hugo stood with his arms crossed, grinning ear to ear.

"SHOW 'EM WHAT A MARTIAN CAN DO, LEON!"

People stared at him, bewildered.

"Who… is that old man?"

"Why is he cheering for a nobody?"

"Wait… that's Hugo Rothschild! The bowmaker?!"

The moment Hugo's name was mentioned, the entire tone shifted.

"Hold on. why is a legendary bowmaker backing some random Martian?"

"No way… did he build that guy's bow?"

Even the instructors exchanged surprised glances.

Leon smirked.

He didn't need their approval.

He just needed to pass this exam.

And nothing—**not insults, not doubts, not even the Academy itself—**was going to stop him.

The real test was about to begin.