Chapter 102: The Rankings
The five glowing results hovered above the stage.
Nobody spoke.
For perhaps the first time since the illusion ended, one hundred and eighty-seven first-years managed to remain completely silent without Headmaster Theoran threatening them with his cane.
The Mirage Hermit looked at the five classes.
Then at the results.
Then back at the students.
"Before anyone complains..."
"Why would we complain?" someone asked.
The Hermit stared toward the voice.
"Optimism."
The student wisely stopped speaking.
Theoran stepped forward.
"Reveal them."
The Hermit sighed.
The lowest result brightened first.
---
5th — CLASS TWO
Performance Score: 81.4
---
Silence lasted approximately half a second.
Then Class Two exploded.
"FIFTH?!"
"No way!"
"We killed more monsters than anyone!"
"We had a fortress!"
"We held three separate attacks!"
"We reached convergence before almost everyone!"
James Vellaroux did not shout.
That somehow made his reaction more obvious.
He stared at the ranking.
Fifth.
His jaw tightened.
Beside him, Tristan Rhael leaned back slightly.
"Well."
James looked at him.
Tristan considered his next words very carefully.
"I have decided not to say anything."
"Good."
"Excellent decision?"
James’s eyes narrowed.
Tristan stopped.
Professor Darius folded his arms.
He had expected Class Two to rank higher too.
Perhaps not first anymore.
But fifth?
A Class Two student raised his hand before the noise had fully settled.
"How?"
The Mirage Hermit looked toward the class.
"You want the short explanation?"
"Yes."
"You fought well."
Several students straightened.
"You led badly."
They stopped straightening.
James’s expression hardened.
The Hermit continued before anyone could object.
"Not throughout the entire examination. But your early performance damaged your class more than any other leader’s initial mistake."
The screens behind him changed.
The fortress appeared again.
James crossing from one breach to another.
Then another.
Then another.
His classmates waiting.
Reacting.
Depending.
Three eliminations.
Later, during the final battle, two more Class Two students had disappeared.
Five total.
The highest number among the five classes.
The Hermit gestured toward the image.
"Your class possessed the strongest direct combat resources from the beginning."
Weapons.
Armor.
Defensible terrain.
A leader whose Attributes were Light and Space.
An SS-potential spear user.
"And yet you lost more students than any other class."
Several Class Two students became quiet.
James already knew where this was going.
The Hermit looked directly at him.
"You improved considerably after recognizing the problem."
The screen changed.
Rotations.
Delegation.
Tristan controlling one section.
James fighting with six rather than alone.
Class Two holding the outer perimeter after convergence.
Organized retreats at the Citadel.
"When you stopped functioning as the entire class, your performance became excellent."
James’s jaw loosened slightly.
"But examinations do not begin when you start performing well."
James nodded.
Slowly.
"Understood."
The Hermit tilted his head.
"No argument?"
James looked toward the three students who had been eliminated before he learned the lesson.
Then toward the two lost during the final defense.
"No."
Tristan watched him.
James continued.
"We earned fifth."
That silenced Class Two more effectively than the Hermit could have.
One student frowned.
"We still fought well."
James looked back.
"We did."
A pause.
"That’s why we’re fifth instead of failing."
Darius’s eyebrows rose.
The Hermit looked faintly amused.
"Acceptable."
James turned toward the ranking again.
Fifth.
He clearly hated it.
That was probably healthy.
Tristan leaned closer.
"Next exam?"
James answered immediately.
"First."
There it was.
Much more familiar.
The fourth result illuminated.
---
4th — CLASS FOUR
Performance Score: 84.7
---
Class Four reacted very differently.
Mostly because Daphne Spinster stared at the number as though staring long enough might force it to explain itself.
Nadia Pell leaned toward her.
"Fourth."
"I can read."
"Just checking."
Daphne looked at her.
Nadia smiled.
Daphne looked forward again.
Lucan crossed his arms.
"I expected third."
"So did I," Nadia said.
Daphne remained silent.
That alone meant she was thinking far too much.
The Hermit looked toward Class Four.
"Your strongest category was resource management."
Daphne’s expression changed slightly.
Then the screen behind him showed her carrying several tons of mana crystal herself.
The entire class laughed.
Daphne closed her eyes.
The Hermit continued.
"Eventually."
More laughter.
Daphne’s gaze moved toward Nadia.
Nadia immediately stopped.
Mostly.
The image shifted.
Six carts.
Distributed crystal loads.
Class Four students rotating responsibilities.
Emergency Gravity support.
The later negotiation with Class One.
Then the external barrier network at the Citadel.
"Once you stopped treating every resource as something you personally needed to control, Class Four became extremely efficient."
Daphne crossed her arms.
"Then why fourth?"
"Because you spent a significant portion of the examination learning something your classmates were capable of doing from the beginning."
Daphne’s eyes narrowed.
Nadia looked suspiciously pleased.
The Hermit continued.
"You also lost two students during the temple collapse and nearly one-third of your mana reserves."
Lucan frowned.
"We abandoned those crystals to save someone."
"Correct."
"Then that shouldn’t lower our score."
"It didn’t lower it as much as losing them through incompetence would have."
Daphne looked toward the Hermit.
"But it still lowered it."
"Resources were lost."
"Because I chose a student."
"Yes."
"So saving them was penalized."
The Hermit stared at her.
"No."
Daphne waited.
"Reality doesn’t refund resources because you used them for a good reason."
That stopped her.
The hall became quieter.
The Hermit gestured toward the screen.
"You made a choice."
The trapped student.
The collapsing temple.
The crystals.
"You accepted a loss to preserve something you valued more."
The scene changed.
Daphne using Gravity.
The student escaping.
Crystals disappearing beneath the collapse.
"That was defensible."
He lowered his hand.
"It was not free."
Daphne looked at the image for several seconds.
Then nodded.
Once.
"Fine."
Nadia whispered:
"That sounded almost emotionally mature."
Daphne turned.
"Nadia."
"Quiet."
"Good."
Nadia became silent.
For perhaps four seconds.
"Fourth isn’t bad."
Daphne’s eye twitched.
Lucan looked away before she could catch him smiling.
The third result appeared.
Elizabeth Aurelius became completely still before it had even fully formed.
---
3rd — CLASS ONE
Performance Score: 87.2
---
Class One murmured.
Not outrage.
Not celebration.
Confusion.
They had gathered more civilians than any class except Class Five.
They had brought the most transportation.
Food.
Tools.
Infrastructure.
Builders.
They had reached the Citadel with enormous practical value.
Yet, third.
Elizabeth watched the score without blinking.
James glanced toward her from Class Two.
He knew that expression.
She was already reconstructing the examination.
Every decision.
Every delay.
Every lost minute.
Every category the Hermit had revealed.
The Mirage Hermit noticed too.
"Stop."
Elizabeth looked toward him.
"Excuse me?"
"You’re recalculating."
"I am evaluating."
"Same disease. Better vocabulary."
A few students laughed.
Elizabeth ignored them.
"What cost us second?"
The Hermit smiled faintly.
There it was.
Not ’why aren’t we first?’
What cost them the next position?
Already narrowing the variable.
"The final Guardian Seal."
Elizabeth nodded immediately.
"Expected."
"Not simply because you acquired it last."
That made her pause.
The screen changed.
Eren.
The nine-year-old boy standing near the wagons.
’I can help.’
Elizabeth dismissing him.
Then maps.
Records.
Failed searches.
More records.
More searching.
Nearly an hour lost.
The Hermit continued.
"Class One’s greatest weakness was not inefficiency."
The city appeared.
Organized.
Controlled.
Functional.
"You were arguably the most efficiently managed class during the first half of the examination."
Several Class One students looked pleased.
Elizabeth did not.
She already knew what came next.
"Your problem was that your efficiency was built on assumptions you rarely stopped to examine."
Eren appeared again.
Silence.
"You categorized people quickly."
Blacksmith.
Carpenter.
Soldier.
Hunter.
Child.
"Most of those decisions were correct."
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Which made the incorrect one harder to notice."
The final signal relay appeared.
Then the Guardian Seal.
"Your class lost substantial time because your leader filtered useful information before hearing it."
Elizabeth nodded.
"And afterward?"
The Hermit glanced toward her.
"You improved."
The screen changed.
Elizabeth asking Eren’s name.
Listening when he identified an unmarked military route.
Later, negotiating with Daphne rather than simply attempting to impose Class One’s needs.
Then the Citadel.
Accepting Alash’s challenge to the apparent capacity choice instead of defending her original calculation.
The Hermit lowered his hand.
"Your adaptability score after recognizing your mistake was among the highest."
Elizabeth considered that.
Then looked toward the score again.
Third.
No visible frustration.
No complaint.
James knew better.
He smiled faintly.
Elizabeth noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You’re enjoying this."
"A little."
"You placed fifth."
His smile disappeared.
Elizabeth’s returned.
Small.
Controlled.
Vindictive.
James sighed.
"There she is."
A few students around them laughed.
The Hermit ignored it.
Elizabeth looked toward Class One.
"We lost time."
Adrian nodded.
"A lot."
"Then third is reasonable."
One student looked surprised.
"You aren’t angry?"
Elizabeth looked toward him.
"At whom?"
"The ranking."
"It is a number."
James made a sound that suspiciously resembled a cough.
Elizabeth’s eyes moved toward him.
He looked away.
She continued.
"A useful number."
That was more believable.
Only two results remained.
Class Three.
Class Five.
The hall knew it.
Sophie knew it.
Alash knew it.
Their reactions could not have been more different.
Sophie sat upright with both hands clasped together.
Alash had gradually sunk lower into his chair.
Dream Haven was now positioned behind his neck.
Penelope looked at him.
"Are you falling asleep?"
"No."
"Your eyes are closed."
"Listening posture."
"The results are being shown."
"I have ears."
"Alash."
One eye opened.
"Fine."
He sat slightly straighter.
The next result appeared.