"What… we're being ranked?" The sudden realization struck Amelia as she stared at the panel in disbelief.
'Tch. If I'd known that, I wouldn't have wasted so much time playing around with that wolf.'
At first, she had assumed that a Rank Three monster would be difficult to handle. But as the battle unfolded, she quickly realized it wasn't much of a threat. Instead of ending it swiftly, she chose to prolong the fight, using it as an opportunity to test the limits of her magic. Blow after blow, the thrill consumed her, and before long, she was enjoying herself so much that she forgot this was even an exam.
'I feel ridiculous now.' The twentieth rank was something she could never accept. After all, she wasn't just anyone—she was the third-ranked student in the entire academy.
At that moment, her eyes caught sight of someone standing quietly among the trees.
'Him? He's here?'
She had nearly forgotten his existence altogether. To her, he was nothing more than the last-ranked student in the academy—insignificant, worthless, someone unworthy of sharing the same air as those with real talent. People like him were the very reason she felt the constant need to push herself harder, to prove that she was above such mediocrity.
Her gaze lingered on him. Unlike Alex and Layla, who were visibly fatigued, he wasn't even breathing heavily. He looked almost untouched by the battle.
'Did he… do nothing at all?'
Her irritation, already simmering, flared hotter.
'This useless bastard didn't lift a single finger.'
Arthur's eyes met hers for the briefest of moments—calm, indifferent, utterly unshaken by the heat of her glare. Then, without a word, he turned away, his steady steps carrying him toward the exit.
'He… ignored me!' The thought ignited her temper further, the sting of dismissal gnawing at her pride. Her eyes bore into his back, sharp enough to cut, yet he gave no sign of even noticing.
"Let's return," Amelia ordered coldly.
At her words, Alex and Layla exchanged a quick glance before falling into step behind her. Their pace was brisk, far quicker than Arthur's deliberate stride, and soon enough the three of them closed the distance. By the time they reached the dungeon's looming entrance, they had caught up with him, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension.
As they neared the dungeon's entrance, Amelia's voice cut sharply through the air, laced with authority.
"Stop."
The command was meant for Arthur, yet he didn't so much as glance back. His stride remained steady, his indifference absolute. That blatant disregard only fueled the fire in her chest.
'He ignored me again. This worthless, talentless nobody dares to ignore me?' Her teeth clenched, anger twisting her features.
"I said stop!" she snapped again, her voice rising like a crack of thunder. This time, raw mana surged outward in a wave of heat, her fiery aura pressing against the space around them. The temperature spiked instantly, oppressive and suffocating.
Alex and Layla staggered back a step, their instincts screaming caution. The air shimmered with heat, as though the entire corridor had been thrust into the heart of a furnace.
This time Arthur halted. Slowly, he turned, his calm blue eyes meeting Amelia's fiery amber gaze.
"What do you think you're doing?" His tone was flat, almost detached, as though her outburst was nothing more than an inconvenience.
"Don't you have ears? I called for you twice." Amelia's voice lashed out like a whip, sharp and biting. Her red hair, still faintly singed from battle, framed a face twisted with fury.
"You barely lifted a finger in there!" she snapped, stepping closer, her glare narrowing into a dagger's edge. "While we were fighting off an entire pack of Lesser Tempest Howlers, you just stood there like some spectator. Do you think this is a game?"
Arthur said nothing. His silence wasn't nervous nor guilty—it was deliberate. He simply looked at her, expression unreadable, as if weighing whether she was worth answering at all.
"That's it? Nothing to say?" Her teeth ground together. "At least fight like a man!"
She hurled the words like a blade, sharp and designed to provoke. Most men would have lashed out at such an insult, pride wounded.
But Arthur didn't even blink. His indifferent stare never wavered.
'This bastard… he's really pissing me off.'
Amelia's fists clenched, her anger mounting with every heartbeat. People usually looked at her with awe, respect, or fear. But him? He looked at her as if she were nothing special—just another noisy distraction in his path.
And that indifference burned her more than any insult ever could.
Amelia's glare hardened, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "What are you spacing out for? Answer me!"
The reply she received was nothing like what she expected.
"You speak as if I owe you something," Arthur said evenly, his tone calm yet edged with cold disdain. "I am neither your subordinate nor one of your admirers. I don't have to answer you—so don't talk to me."
"What…?" Her voice faltered, the sharp edge crumbling into disbelief. The sudden defiance hit her like a slap.
'This fucker dares…' The thought burned in her mind, searing hotter than her own flames.
Everyone she had ever met had praised her. Teachers, peers, even her rivals—they all acknowledged her talent. No one had ever dared talk back to her, not once. Yet here stood Arthur, the lowest-ranked cadet, throwing her words back in her face as if she were nothing.
"You bastard!" Amelia snapped, her fiery aura flaring as strands of her crimson hair stiffened like flames ready to ignite. "It was because of you that we were so slow!"
Arthur didn't flinch. His reply was steady, cutting straight through her fury.
"No—it wasn't because of me. We finished late because you wasted time toying with that wolf. With your strength, you could've ended it in three, maybe four strikes. But instead, you chose to drag it out, playing with it while the clock kept ticking."
For a moment, Amelia had no words. His calm accusation left her breathless, her rebuttal stuck in her throat. Because deep down, she knew he was right. She had been careless—reckless even—and a part of her recognized that truth.
But the thought of admitting it… of acknowledging fault in front of that unshaken, indifferent gaze of Arthur—was unbearable.
So instead, anger welled inside her, desperate to twist the blame back where she wanted it.
"What… you—"
"Calm down, Amelia. We shouldn't cause a scene here." Layla quickly cut in, her voice careful but firm.
"But this bas—"
"If it truly was my fault," Arthur interrupted coolly, his voice even but carrying an unshakable weight, "then it will be reflected in our grades. If you have an issue, report it to the instructors. Otherwise, don't waste my time—and don't speak to me again."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the three of them standing there, stunned.
Amelia Crimsonheart—third-ranked student of Nexus Hunter Academy. Heir to the illustrious Crimsonheart family. A prodigy already recognized as the academy's future Fire Archmage.
Wherever she went, heads bowed. Doors opened. People showered her with respect, admiration, or fear. She had been praised, envied, and obeyed for as long as she could remember. No one dared oppose her. No one dared ignore her.
And yet, today… someone had.
Not a prodigy. Not a rival. Not even someone worth her notice.
Arthur Dravenlock.
The lowest-ranked cadet in the entire academy. The so-called weakest of the weak.
Her hands clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms, the sting fueling the heat burning within her. Her pride—her carefully cultivated superiority—had been spat on by a boy who should have been groveling at her feet.
Her fiery amber eyes followed his retreating figure, rage searing her veins.
'You… bastard. I'll make you regret this. I'll show you what happens to trash who dares forget their place.'
Though irritation burned within her, Amelia wasn't the type to lower herself to tormenting a worthless nobody. She wasn't like those petty fools who found joy in crushing the weak.
But even so, she silently vowed that the next time they crossed paths in a competition, she would utterly humiliate him—make sure the entire academy saw the difference between trash and true talent.
Finally, they emerged from the dungeon. Layla and Alex offered a brief farewell before heading their separate ways, leaving Amelia to herself. Spotting her circle of friends gathered a little distance away, she started toward them.
But before she could reach them, the voices of nearby students drifted into her ears.
"Man, we actually placed second! And it was all thanks to Celestina."
"Yeah, she was incredible. Strong, sharp, and composed the whole time."
"Her ice magic was stunning… no wonder she's ranked second among the academy's top students."
Every word of praise grated against Amelia's ears. Her already sour mood curdled further, jealousy twisting inside her like a knife. She bit down on the urge to ignite them all where they stood, flames itching at her fingertips, but forced herself to hold it in.
And just as she steadied her composure and pressed on toward her friends, fate decided to mock her further—because she came face to face with the one person she least wanted to see.
"Hey there, Amelia. What kept you so long?"
Celestina's voice rang out, cool and composed as always. The sight of her only worsened Amelia's foul mood.
"Oh? Your face looks like that of a raging demon. Finally, it matches your nickname," Celestina added, a faint, mocking smile tugging at her lips.
Amelia's fury spiked instantly. "Shut up, you frost bitch."
Celestina chuckled, unfazed. "Fiery as ever, I see. By the way, what rank did you get?"
"…"
Celestina tilted her head, amusement gleaming in her eyes. "Oh, looks like someone isn't too proud of their results."
The words stung, slicing through Amelia's pride. Her anger flared even hotter, and as the memory of that one infuriating boy resurfaced, it only fueled her rage further. She opened her mouth to snap back, but before she could, another voice cut through the tension.
"Amelia, you're finally here."
Julia's voice called out warmly. Behind her stood Melissa, Michael, Jurian, and Silas, chatting casually as they waited.
Amelia forced her expression to soften, but her eyes flicked briefly toward Celestina, still lingering nearby.
"Ah, Celestina—you're here too," Julia continued cheerfully. "What were you two talking about?"
"Oh, nothing much," Celestina replied with a light laugh, her eyes glinting mischievously. "We were just discussing our team rankings. Right, Amelia?" She shot Amelia a sidelong glance, lips curled into a knowing smirk.
'This fucking bitch.'
"Haa… that. My team ended up in eighth place. Melissa and her group managed third."
And hearing it only stoked Amelia's fury further, knowing that her friends and her rival—had all secured higher ranks than her.