Arthur stood in front of the machine as the second result echoed through the hall.
F Rank.
No class.
He did not need to look around to know what followed. He felt it immediately. The invisible weight that had been pressing down on him only moments ago vanished, as if someone had quietly cut a rope. The expectations, the excitement, and the imagined future people had painted onto him all collapsed, not with anger or outrage, but with a soft, disappointing deflation, like a punctured balloon.
Arthur exhaled slowly.
He sensed the shift in the air even before anyone spoke. A heartbeat passed, then another, and that small pocket of silence told him everything. It was the kind that appeared when people were trying to understand something that didn't make sense and failing.
Murmurs crept back into existence.
"What does that even mean?"
"No class… how is that possible?"
"Maybe the machine is broken."
"He fought better than most of us."
"F rank makes no sense."
