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Kai stood among the crowd of first-years, arms loosely crossed, eyes flicking across the room.
He already didn't like the energy.
The way people talked—loud, hopeful, clueless. It made his skin crawl. There was too much optimism. Too much pride. Most of them were standing around like they'd just walked into some magical fairytale where effort always paid off, where they'd make friends, form teams, unlock some ancient spell and have a shiny moment of glory.
Kai had read the novel. He knew what happened to people like that.
They were cannon fodder. Cut down in group tests. Burned alive in duels. Quietly replaced between chapters with better, stronger, more plot-relevant students. No one mourned them. No one even noticed they were gone.
The woman at the podium waited just long enough for the chatter to settle. She had the patience of a professional—or a predator.
And then she smiled.
A little too wide. A little too rehearsed.
Like she was about to say something she'd memorized, but still enjoyed watching the fallout every time.
Kai already knew what she was going to say, and yet he still felt his head throb when the words started to flow.
"Welcome, first-years," she said with far too much brightness in her voice. "You stand at the edge of a great journey. But before that journey begins, we need to clarify how things work at Harlen."
She tapped a floating rune panel beside her, and a glowing projection flickered into view above the podium: four bold letters stacked on top of one another.
A
B
C
D
She turned to face the crowd fully.
"There are four internal rankings at Harlen Academy. Class A. Class B. Class C. And Class D. Each year, all first-year students are sorted into these classes. The placement is based solely on your performance during the entrance exam—no exceptions."
A ripple went through the crowd. Kai heard murmurs start to spread.
The woman kept going.
"Your class determines everything. Your living conditions, the quality of your food, your personal quarters, your access to resources, your spellbooks, your instructors—everything is ranked. The higher your class, the better your life."
We're not here to make the untalented grow into the talent we're here to make the talented into the best...
She let the silence stretch for a beat.
Kai could already see the mood shift. Some kids were still trying to look cool, acting like they expected Class A placement without a second thought. Others started fidgeting, heads turning to their friends, eyes wide. Nervous laughter bubbled up in the back. One girl bit her thumbnail down to the skin.
But the woman wasn't done.
"If you're placed in Class A, you'll receive priority access to personal training chambers, high-grade meals, advanced curriculum, and a personal instructor from the Tenure Board. You will live in private dorms artifact-grade amenities, and teleportation access to most sections of campus." also permanent use of our grand chamber
She turned slightly.
"Class B? You'll have a sweet you'll eat communal meals. You'll have access to tier-two spellbooks and two guaranteed training sessions per week in the grand chambers."
Another tap of the panel.
"Class C? Dormitories without enchantments. One instructor per twenty students. Two meals a day. You'll be allowed basic weaponry and have to register to use practice rooms. You'll be required to perform tasks to earn training time in grand chamber
Kai felt his brow twitch. He remembered this. Every word of it.
The woman's tone finally dipped.
"And Class D…"
She paused. Her smile sharpened, just a little.
"You'll live in the lower wards, east wing. That's all you need to know."
No mention of training time . No mention of books. No mention of meals.
Just an address.
The silence that followed was thick.
The kind of silence that didn't feel natural. It was heavy. Unspoken.
Reality was sinking in.
"You will remain in your assigned class for six months," she added. "After that, rankings will be reassessed. Until then—there are no do-overs, no retests, and no transfers. You live where you are placed."
Kai could feel the wave roll through the hall.
One boy—tall, well-dressed, maybe noble—actually gasped. Another tried to speak and stopped himself. A third sat down slowly, hands gripping his knees as his face turned pale. Whispers began to rise around the room like steam.
"This is a joke, right?"
"There's no way they'll put me in C…"
"I can't stay in D. My family—"
Kai tuned it out. Not because he wasn't affected—but because he had expected it.
He could feel a headache starting to bloom behind his eyes. Not from stress. Just… the sheer pressure of watching so many people wake up all at once.
This was your welcome party, he thought. Hope you liked the invitation.
The academy didn't care how loud you shouted or how desperate you were. It didn't care what your surname was or how rare your Affinity sounded. It was numbers. Output. Efficiency That was all. If you slipped even slightly, you sank.
The panic was already setting in.
Someone sobbed quietly near the far right. Another person dropped their bag with a loud thud, then just stood there, staring blankly ahead. A small group of students tried to comfort each other, huddled near the wall, already treating themselves like victims.
Kai didn't move.
He just stood there, staring at the floating letters as if they were a death sentence—and maybe for some of these students, they were.
But not for him.
He hadn't come here expecting fairness. He wasn't chasing status. He was here for one thing only: power. Real power. The kind that couldn't be stripped by a rank or stolen by politics. He already had the edge. He just needed to survive long enough to use it.
So let them panic.
Let them realize what this place really was.
I already knew.
The rankings were very harsh only 4 in a rank a bunch in b rank and surprisingly low amount in C rank that made it worse supposedly this was one of the worst turnouts ever with the majority being D rank
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