The day of the rank evaluation had come. In a wide field that stretched for kilometers stood thousands of students, arranged like a living crescent around the arena.
In the front row were the platinum students—the already-made knights who had reached the curious stage on their skill card, paired with their paralleled swordsmanship to truly become masters.
Behind them were the gold students—the promising geniuses of the academy who had reached a considerable level of swordsmanship and experience.
Behind the gold students were the silver ranks—the survivors. And behind them was Zach's row, the trash of the academy.
Bronze rank knights—the scorn. After four years of academy service, they would go on to be bodyguards to nobles, guard the palace entrances; their duty was to protect. Some would even become escorts for caravans walking the long roads in the shadows of the greater knights.
Closer to the arena stood the silver knights—the survivors.
Their futures were a lot brighter than that of the bronze knights; they would go on to become the backbone of the kingdom—the soldiers.
They were the ones doing border patrols and defending the kingdom from horrendous monsters; their path was gritty. They were the ones to die the most, but honor remained in the silvers.
Then the gold ranks—the chosen blades. They would go on to serve as elite knights under the royal command, handpicked to carry out the king's will.
Their destinies were brighter: escorting dignitaries, commanding troops, and enforcing the throne's decree with grit. These were the ones tasked with battling Thyxars and maintaining peace and order.
A gold knight's path was one of privilege and burden—to bear it meant to tread in the king's shadows.
Then higher than the gold knights, we have the platinum knights—the Valiants. These were the academy's finest; their futures branched in two directions.
They could be platoon leaders and frontline commanders—the vanguards that delve headfirst into the battlefield.
Or they could go on to take another path, even more perilous—they would go into secluded training to hone their skills until they reach the level of Heavenly Knight.
The platinum rank wasn't just about strength; it was also a mantle of expectation.
Zach stood in the back, among the sea of bronze, looking forward. "I'm going to strive..." he muttered.
"I'm going to win..." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to succeed."
But what if he doesn't... What if he truly gets stuck in this other world with zero way to go back home? What will happen to Jennie, his little sister?
How would she react when the news that her dear brother is dead?... Zach gritted his teeth.
No.. I won't die...
He gritted.
For Jennie...
By Zach's side, Richard stood with tears in his eyes. Zach looked at him, confused.
"Zach..." He spoke; his voice wasn't playful; it was stern, almost serious.
Zach had never seen his friend like this; this truly baffled him. "Are you okay?"
"Have you heard the story of the current king of the empire?" Richard spoke, ignoring Zach's question completely.
"No..." Zach raised a brow. "What about him?"
Around other students looked at Zach like they'd just seen a ghost.
"The supreme sovereign," Richard remained stern. "The imperial majesty... The God-human..." "...those are the names of the emperor, King Uthur."
Richard turned to him. Zach raised a brow. "God-human...?"
"It was said at the age of 19, the king defeated an instructor who was a fully experienced Star Knight..." He paused; his eyes filled with admiration.
Richard always jokes around, but when it comes to the matters of King Uthur, his expression is one of reverence.
"Defeating an instructor at the age of 19 earned him the nickname 'The Imperial Majesty'."
"Wait...? Then how did he get his other names...?"
"At the age of 20, he single-handedly held off a Reaper-rank Thyxar that threatened to destroy the kingdom." Richard continued.
A chill went through Zach's spine, making him shiver. Based on what Zach's heard about Reapers, they were no easy foes.
They could turn cities into wasteland; yet the king alone fought off such a foe, and at a young age, at that? King Uthur was truly incredible.
"He earned the name 'God-human' after that fight, and then disappeared into seclusion." Richard crossed his arms, focusing on the large stage in front.
"He returned two years later..." Richard turned to him. "A Heavenly Knight."
Zach would burst out laughing if Richard wasn't putting on such a serious expression.
"Y... you're serious." Zach's legs got weaker.
"That's right; at the age of 22, King Uthur became the youngest Heavenly Knight in the history of Persia."
"Damn..."
"Every time I stand here, it reminds me of just how insignificant I am." He clenched his fist.
"But people like me were made to be shadows to people like His Majesty." Zach could feel Richard's words—the anger, the bitterness.
"Stop!" Zach glanced at Richard with a furious expression. "You can be the greatest; you can far surpass whatever record the king made."
Zach gritted his teeth, looking at the stage. "You just have to try—you fail? Then try harder until you get it." Zach clenched his fist.
An instructor with a scar on his left eye walked up to the stage. "This is the rank evaluation," he said.
"As usual, if you can defeat one person from the rank you want to attain, then you can go higher in the rankings." He gestured.
"Now, let the rank evaluation... begin!"
The grounds were filled with bronze ranks trying to fight those who had reached the silver rank.
One by one, some got crushed while some actually succeeded. A silver-ranked trainee walked onto the large pavement with a cheeky grin.
He pointed to one gold-rank female trainees with crystal-like eyes and jet-black hair. It was Beatrice.
"I challenge Beatrice Morningstar," he said proudly, sword in hand. Beatrice sighed, walking up to the stage.
"Ready?" The instructor shouted. Both cadets stood opposite each other; the silver-ranked cadet wielded a spear, while Beatrice wielded a katana.
"Go!" The silver cadet dashed in, swinging his spear in a horizontal arc. Beatrice moved calmly, dodging the trainee's attacks with graceful movement.
The entire field went silent. Beatrice never unsheathed her katana, but the cadet moved frantically.
The cadet gritted, sweating all over like a pig. "You..." He gritted, charging in with a thrust of his spear.
Beatrice moved to the side with grace, raising her feet. The silver-ranked trainee tripped on Beatrice's feet, falling face-first onto the stone platform.
The crowd burst out laughing as the silver-rank trainee struggled to get up on his feet, blood dripping from his nose.
His stance is all wrong... Zach thought. He isn't using prediction to predict his opponent's movement; he's just charging blindly.
Zach could see Beatrice's movement; she uses some sort of twisting motion to maneuver over the trainee's attack.
Beatrice had grown bored and, with a single wave of her sheath, hit the kid square in the head, knocking him out and winning the duel.
"Ahh, man... As expected, the gold ranks are in another level..." One of the cadets shivered.
Zach walked up to the stage—a bronze rank. Everyone already predicted this would be a mediocre match.
"I challenge Ragnar Everstoke." Zach called out.
A red haired trainee in the crowd stepped forward, his eyes that gleamed like molten metal radiated excitement. Ragnar's lips curled into a smirk.
"I was wondering what that kid was thinking." Ragnar stepped forward.
"Wait!!! Is he crazy?"
"He's gonna get himself killed! Instructors, do something!"
"Ragnar... bro has a death wish..."
"Don't go for Ragnar, bro."
Richard's mouth flew open. "No way..." The crowd erupted into murmurs.
"That kid... Who does he think he is?"
"Ragnar's gonna crush him."
"He's just a bronze rank."
One of the instructors—Gale—raised a brow, looking at Zach's weapon. "Yo, Rudolf," he glanced at a short instructor in the distance.
Rodolf, a short instructor wearing a black body suit with a robe, looked in his direction.
"Those blades... seems you're not the only trap master." Gale grinned. "You little..." Rudolf gritted as Gale laughed off.
Ragnar stood opposite Zach in the ring, cross-armed. "Remember me?" Zach grinned.
Back at the dorm, Zach told Ragnar they'd meet again. At that time, Ragnar didn't think much about it, but now...
"Ah, yes, I remember you. You're that guy from the inn. You sure you wanna do this?" Ragnar waved his straight sword with a serious expression.
Zach wielded his hook blades, pointing their hooked tips at the gold-star student. "You think I'm joking?" He smirked.