Through the halls of Arcadia Academy, the buzz of conversation carried like static in the air. Students packed together in groups—newly formed cliques, bright-eyed hopefuls, and the beginnings of friend circles that would no doubt dictate the rest of their first year.
Some chattered excitedly about the upcoming classes, others speculated about what their rankings would be. I caught snippets as I squeezed through the crowd.
"I bet I'll make at least B-Class. My uncle said my mana output was higher than most cadets last year!"
"No way, you? I heard the top thirty are basically reserved for noble heirs."
"Ugh, I just don't want to embarrass myself. What if I end up in F-Class?"
I sighed under my breath. Despite how massive Arcadia was, these students filled every inch of hallway like sardines in a can. Each step forward was a battle of weaving through shoulder-to-shoulder chatterboxes.
This place is way too cramped…
Still, I reminded myself this wasn't unusual. Back in the game, NOTFH, background mobs filled these exact corridors during the exam results scene. Guess seeing it in person just made it feel more overwhelming. I wasn't a floating camera anymore; I was the "new kid" stuck in a sea of them.
Just great.
I pushed forward, exhaling through my nose as I tried not to snap at anyone.
Then I overheard it—someone whispering that the test results had been posted in the main hall. Another student's anxious voice rose above the din:
"Displayed for everyone to see? Oh no, that's humiliating!"
I nearly chuckled. Yeah, welcome to the world of public rankings. Arcadia doesn't exactly care about your feelings.
But their words reminded me of something I didn't want to think about: my own results.
Deep down, I already knew where I'd end up. F-Class. Dean Mayfest's canonical starting point. It was practically carved into stone.
Still… I felt a twinge of nervousness. Seeing your name plastered on a giant board for the entire academy to sneer at wasn't exactly a comforting thought. At least in the game, it was just a few clicks on a menu screen.
Unfortunately, this wasn't a game anymore.
So, like everyone else, I followed the current of students until the crowd funneled into the main hall.
…..
The bulletin boards were impossible to miss—towering slabs covered in neatly written names, each sorted under their designated class. Students swarmed them, eyes darting frantically, mouths either grinning with relief or frowning in dismay.
One boy near the front ran a finger down the list until he froze. His gaze flicked sideways, locking on me. He quickly nudged his friend, whispering my name as if I'd grown horns on my head.
And then it began—
The whispers.
"The mana-less commoner? He actually showed up?"
"Pathetic. Even beggars in the lower sectors can produce at least a spark."
"Arcadia really let him in? What a disgrace."
"If that were me, I'd crawl into a hole rather than stand here like nothing's wrong."
Each word pricked like a thorn, but I forced myself to keep my face blank. They weren't wrong, after all. Dean Mayfest—the real one—was a nobody. No mana. No skills worth mentioning. No lineage, no noble heritage, no destiny written in the stars. Just a background character with a half-decent dodge ability.
That was the truth. And truth stung.
But truth didn't matter right now. All I wanted was to find my name, confirm my inevitable F-Class placement, and move on.
So I pushed through, eyes scanning the F-Class roster.
Down the list…
Again.
And again.
Nothing?
My stomach dropped. I checked once more, desperate. Still nothing.
"…What the hell?"
Panic flickered in my chest. Did I really not make the cut? Even F-Class was better than expulsion. Were they going to kick me out already? All because I barely answered three measly questions and ran out of time?
I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to breathe. No. If they wanted me gone, they would've sent a notice by now. Calm down. Think.
Before I could spiral further, a sharp voice rang out across the crowd.
"Dean Mayfest?!"
Not my name spoken casually. Not curiously. It was laced with disbelief.
I turned toward the source. A cluster of students stood near the S-Class board, pointing in my direction as if I were some kind of… anomaly.
A bad feeling crawled up my spine.
Reluctantly, I forced my way past the crowd, ignoring the muttered protests. More names flew around me—students bragging about making C, B, or even A-Class. But every time my name resurfaced, it was met with scoffs, laughter, or outright confusion.
And then I saw it.
At first, just a glimpse. My eyes widened. I shoved closer until I stood before the board.
There.
At the very top of the S-Class rankings, glowing in bold golden letters:
[Rank #1 – Dean Mayfest]
I froze.
My throat tightened. My mind went blank.
I couldn't even think of a sarcastic remark.
The buzzing crowd around me faded into white noise as I stood there, staring at the impossible.
Then—
Ding!
A familiar chime rang in my head, crisp and mechanical. A translucent screen blinked into existence before my eyes, lines of text burning themselves into my vision.
[You Have Altered The Story In A Unique Way.]