The day after Everett's spectacular (and slightly traumatic) defeat at the hands of Robert Mallant, their instructor appeared on the hallway screens with his usual bored expression and a cup of something suspiciously blue.
"Attention Tier-One students," he said. "Final ranking calculations are complete. Report to Central Lecture Hall tomorrow morning for your assignments and class schedules."
The message blinked away, and just like that, the ranking trials were over.
---
The Next Morning:
Everett sat somewhere near the back of the Lecture Hall, sandwiched between Gloria and a kid .(He was currently chewing on the end of his own sleeve. No one commented.)
The instructor stepped onto the platform and flicked his finger. Holograms spiraled into the air, showing rows of glowing names and numbers.
"Everett Miracle," he called.
Everett stood.
"Final Rank: 51 out of 234."
There was a moment of confused silence. A few whispers. Someone snorted.
The instructor raised a finger. "Before you judge by surface numbers—yes, 51 may not look flashy, but consider this: out of 234, this is the top 25%. That means you're in the upper half of the cream of the crop of the civilization's best grade 1 candidates.
He smirked. "Also, it's your first year. Some students spend two, even three years here without breaking into the top 100."
Everett exhaled. Quiet pride curled in his chest. Gloria gave him a little shoulder bump. "Not bad, cube boy."
He smirked. "Let's see yours, then."
---
Other First-Year Final Rankings:
Gloria Cheng – Rank 97
"Solid mid-tier," she muttered. "Blame that one guy who summoned a space shark."
Guruji Gopalan – Rank 160
"The numbers are incorrect," he insisted, swirling tea from a sideways cup. "I submitted all my matches into a poetic riddle format. The system didn't get it."
Felix Vern – Rank 76
Class: Mech-Ark Innovator
Grade 1 – Rank 6
A quiet, lanky boy who could turn everyday junk into sentient mini-tanks. His backpack was a clinking apocalypse of screws and steam. Surprisingly kind. Very fond of pigeons.
Everett glanced at the rankings, then back at Felix.
"So you're second among us 14," he said.
Felix just nodded and tightened a bolt on a flying wrench that kept trying to escape.
---
Later that day, as Everett and Gloria wandered the inner gardens (and avoided getting hit by a rogue fireball from a training pit), Everett asked the question that had been on his mind for a while.
"Hey Gloria… all this ranking stuff—how does it actually work? I mean, you are stronger than some higher-ranked people. Is that normal?"
Gloria nodded. "Yeah. The ranking system isn't purely based on strength. It measures battle performance, adaptability, and mystery synchronization. So sometimes, a lower-rank can totally beat a higher one—it's all about leverage."
"That makes sense… in a frustrating way."
She chuckled. "It gets worse."
"Oh?"
"There's something else you should know. Those 'Grade 1, Rank 3' or 'Rank 6' labels? They're not actual ranks. They're sub-classifications. Humans—and other species—made them up to deal with the huge power gap between people within the same grade."
"So... they're like academic letter grades written by someone being attacked by a lion?"
"Exactly."
"And what do they actually call this 'Grade 1' stuff?" Everett asked.
"Mystery Apprentice," Gloria replied.
"Ominous."
"In Mystery Apprentice," she explained, "you awaken your class, start learning its core mechanics, and begin discovering 'Mystery Slots.' These are locked abilities or insights tied to your class."
Everett raised an eyebrow. "So it's like… gear slots but mystical?"
"Pretty much. Most people unlock one slot per grade. But once you go deep into class mastery and survive long enough to reach the next level…"
"Which is?"
She smiled.
"Grilled Two. Officially known as Mystery Master."
Everett blinked. "Grilled?"
"It's slang. Because getting there practically cooks your brain."
"How many Mystery Slots does a Mystery Master get?"
"Three total. That's two more than Mystery Apprentice. They don't just use their class. They are their class. Most of them can even survive in space for a few minutes without tech."
"I've met baked potatoes less intense."
Gloria grinned. "You'll fit in just fine."
By the time the sun dimmed and the academy's lights flickered on, Everett had a new understanding.
His rank didn't define him. His losses didn't break him.
He was only beginning to climb a mountain whose peak he couldn't yet see.
But he had his class.
He had his allies.
And somewhere out there, the next challenge waited with teeth bared and mysteries locked.
He'd be ready.
Eventually.
Probably.