The soldiers shift uneasily but ultimately lower their weapons as we prepare for what lies ahead. A sense of unity settles over us like a blanket; even if it's born out of shared fear, it's something—something stronger than despair.
As we march through the tunnel toward our uncertain fate, I can't help but glance back at Tam. His wide eyes reflect the enormity of our situation—the kind of weight that only grows heavier when you're standing on the precipice of destiny.
"Do you think this is a good thing?" he asks quietly as we approach the exit leading into the blinding light outside.
I hesitate for just a heartbeat before replying. "Good? Bad? In this world? It doesn't matter much anymore."
We march under the watchful eyes of the Capital Military, their stares dripping with a mixture of contempt and reluctant respect. Each soldier's expression reads like a poorly written script: disdain for our supposed failures, yet a begrudging admiration for what I've accomplished. I can feel the weight of their skepticism pressing down on me, each muttered comment behind my back like a knife cutting deeper.
"G-Rankers shouldn't survive," one soldier whispers to another. "It's practically unheard of."
"But look at that B-Ranker," another replies, glancing at me with something akin to awe mingled with irritation. "How did he pull it off?"
I can't help but smirk slightly at their confusion; it's as if they've stumbled into a plot twist they didn't see coming.
But beneath my facade of confidence, I feel insulted—where's my recognition? I don't want to be treated like an anomaly; I want answers! Yet here I am, paraded like some trophy while they cast me in a light tinged with scorn.
The path to the Capital feels longer than it should, and every step becomes a reminder of my place in this world—a mere glitch in their finely tuned machine.
Mira walks beside me, her silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. She steals glances at my wrist as if gauging how many secrets lie behind the numbers displayed there. Her expression is difficult to read; is she impressed or merely plotting my downfall?
"Are you going to gloat about your stats all day?" she finally asks, her voice edged with irritation.
I turn to her, eyebrows raised.
"Gloat? Nah, I'm just savoring the taste of victory." I give her a playful grin that doesn't quite reach my eyes.
"You could try joining me instead of sulking."
She rolls her eyes, though a flicker of amusement dances across her features. "Not everyone is as lucky as you," she snaps back, though there's no bite behind it.
Tam walks slightly ahead of us, oblivious to our banter. His face reflects a mix of anxiety and anticipation—like he's caught between two worlds where either fate could decide our next chapter.
I catch his gaze and offer him an encouraging nod before turning back to Mira. "What's luck without brains?"
She narrows her eyes skeptically. "You think this is just about being clever?"
"No," I reply earnestly now, frustration simmering beneath my words. "It's about understanding how this world works—and using it against them."
Her brow furrows in contemplation as we continue walking through the halls adorned with grandeur—marble walls etched with tales of conquest and loss—a stark contrast to our current predicament.
But soon enough we're met by soldiers who open large double doors leading into what looks like an opulent court chamber bathed in golden light—an entrance fit for nobility but tainted by the underlying judgment looming over us.
* * *
I step into the palace of Vaelgard, where marble pillars rise like guardians, their cold faces glaring down at us. The air is heavy with opulence and secrecy, every corner whispering tales of power and betrayal. I take a moment to soak it all in—the gilded chandeliers casting shadows that dance on the polished floor, the rich tapestries hanging like portraits of a forgotten glory.
"Stay sharp," I murmur to Tam and Mira as we walk forward. "This place smells like a trap."
As if summoned by my words, a tall figure emerges from the shadows—King Veymorr Solvalis himself. He looms before us, an imposing silhouette draped in royal finery that practically screams entitlement. His icy gaze sweeps over our group, settling on me with a calculated interest.
"A piece of trash like you was meant to burn in the magic furnace," he says flatly, voice dripping with disdain. "Not stand before me."
The words hang in the air like a death sentence, and I feel my heart drop. The mention of the "magic furnace" sends chills racing down my spine—a place for those deemed worthless by the kingdom's unforgiving metrics.
I don't flinch outwardly; instead, I keep my expression neutral while my mind races. The "magic furnace" isn't just an execution—it's a systematic disposal for G-Rankers, an endgame for those who failed to prove their worth.
Beside him stands a personal advisor—a woman with sharp features and piercing eyes that glint with disapproval. She interjects sharply, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade: "Your Majesty, we mustn't mention—"
* * *
The advisor straightens her back, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Lady Celestria, Royal Sorceress of the Kingdom," she introduces herself with a tone that commands respect and fear. "His Majesty has pressing matters to attend to. I will take you aside for your briefing."
"Good," the King mutters, turning his gaze away from me. "You can waste no more time here." His disdain drips like poison from his words, but there's something else lurking behind that cold facade—something deeper.
Lady Celestria gestures for us to follow her, and I sense a palpable shift in the atmosphere as we move away from the throne room. The corridors are adorned with tapestries that depict battles won and lost, each stitch telling tales of heroism and sacrifice—a stark contrast to our current situation.
As we walk, she glances back at me, her expression inscrutable. "You're not like the others who've come before," she says, her voice low enough that only I can hear. "King Veymorr wanted you in the dungeons—he was furious when he learned of your intelligence."
"Furious? Why?" I ask, genuinely curious despite myself.
"He believes your intelligence surpasses that of his idol—the one and only S-Ranker, Cyrus Talon Veyrallis," she replies matter-of-factly. "The one who supposedly had a maximum INT of C-Rank at 6249. Just 1 stat point below a B-rank Intelligence"
"Wait, are you seriously telling me that no one in this entire world has ever achieved an INT higher than C-Rank?" I blurt out, my heart racing like a caffeinated squirrel at her unexpected revelation.
"Even you, Lady Celestria—a Royal Arch Mage, of all people—only max out at C-Rank? That's... that's beyond absurd! I mean, how is that even possible? You're supposed to be among the finest magical minds in the kingdom!"
The weight of her words hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating, as if the very walls of the chamber are leaning in to eavesdrop on my disbelief.
I can feel the pulse of the magic-infused carvings around us, adding an electric tension to the exchange, amplifying my incredulity.
My mind races, piecing together the implications of such a staggering limitation. If the heights of intelligence are capped at C-Rank, what does that mean for the future of this world? What does it mean for me?
Her expression hardens slightly as we round a corner. "No. It's an anomaly, much like you. The King despises anomalies."
I process this new information, piecing together the implications behind it all: If my existence threatens his legacy…
We stop outside a heavy door adorned with intricate carvings that pulse faintly with magic. Celestria pushes it open with ease, revealing an elegant chamber lined with shelves full of scrolls and ancient tomes—a veritable treasure trove of knowledge.
"Here," she says as we enter. "This is where you'll be briefed on what comes next."
The room feels charged with energy; knowledge hangs thick in the air like an electric current waiting to be unleashed.
"What happens next?" I ask cautiously, feeling both excitement and dread churn in my stomach.
* * *
I step into the lavish chamber, the golden light filtering through stained glass windows illuminating shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls. A treasure trove of knowledge waits for me, yet my mind races with uncertainty.
Lady Celestria stands before me, arms crossed, an enigmatic smile on her lips. "You have two options," she begins, her tone both authoritative and enticing. "Join under my tutelage and become a royal mage—or never display your stats in public again."
The weight of her words hangs in the air like a thick fog. I glance around at the ornate room—the echoes of whispers seem to call out from the books, urging me to seize this opportunity. But I can't shake off the feeling that joining the royal mages would be akin to stepping into a gilded cage.
"Freedom over confinement," I murmur under my breath, forcing myself to meet her gaze once more. "How can you ensure I can't show my stats?"
A glimmer of amusement dances in Celestria's eyes as she takes a step closer. "Ah, but that's where my expertise comes into play," she replies, confidence oozing from every word. "I created this bracelet thirty years ago—back when magic was merely a whisper in the shadows."
"Created?" My eyebrows shoot up. "You invented it?"
"Indeed." She preens slightly as if enjoying the spotlight on her past achievements. "This bracelet serves as a magical bridge between your intelligence and your ability to wield magic itself."
I listen intently as she continues. "Back then, there was no magic; it was simply dormant energy waiting for someone clever enough to harness it. I devised this technology to connect individuals with their latent powers—but it requires at least an F-Rank in intelligence and formal training to utilize properly."
"So it's all about brains," I say slowly, piecing together her explanation like a puzzle.
"Yes! Exactly! And as you know now…" She waves a hand dismissively as if brushing away any doubts about her brilliance. "You're not just any ordinary B-Ranker."
"What else does this thing do?" I press further, curiosity getting the better of me.
She leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "It also manages your finances—every coin earned is channeled through your bracelet and backed by physical gold in the royal treasury."
My mind reels at this revelation—a banking system intertwined with our very existence? The implications are staggering.
"Imagine!" she continues excitedly, practically glowing with pride over her creation. "Every transaction flows seamlessly through this network; every stat and achievement tracked with precision—your entire worth quantified down to the last decimal!"
The enormity of it all washes over me like an ocean wave crashing onto shore; I'm still trying to find my footing amid these revelations.
"And you believe that by suppressing my stats," I begin cautiously, measuring each word carefully against potential fallout, "you could keep me hidden?"
She nods slowly, confidence unwavering as she crosses her arms once more. "Absolutely; with modifications made directly by me to your bracelet—I can ensure that no one will see your rank or abilities even if you choose otherwise."
Her proposal hangs tantalizingly between us—a golden ticket to freedom but tethered by the chains of control.
"What's stopping you from using this same technology against me later?" I challenge boldly.
She tilts her head slightly; admiration flickers behind her calculating gaze. "Clever boy," she admits without hesitation, acknowledging my sharpness with an approving nod. "But rest assured—I'm not interested in wielding power over you or anyone else beyond what is necessary."
A pause lingers as we stand there amidst shelves brimming with forgotten lore—the weight of history pressing down on us like invisible chains.
I take a deep breath before replying; choice reverberates in my chest like thunder rumbling overhead—a promise of storms yet to come.
"Fine," I say finally, resolve hardening within me like steel forged in fire. "But if we're going down this path together—I expect full transparency about what that means for both our futures."
Lady Celestria regards me thoughtfully for a moment longer before offering a nod—a pact sealed by trust teetering on an edge razor-thin between ambition and deception.
And so begins my next chapter—the first step toward shaping destinies intertwined within choices made under pressure… and also where the hell are Tam and Mira?