"Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred."
Tany pushed himself up, his arms trembling from the exertion as he dropped to his knees and wiped the sweat from his forehead. It had been a week since he arrived in Elyshard, and he spent every single day doing basic physical conditioning in the apartment while waiting for the system orb to fully sync with his soul.
He moved over to the kitchen to splash some cold water onto his face, leaning against the sink with a sigh. Today was the day of the entrance exams for the Decadian.
'The ten great academies of Elyshard,' he thought, grabbing a towel to dry himself. 'They are supposed to be the shield that protects this country from the demon gates, but they spend more time fighting each other.'
The Decadian was fiercely competitive, with Hollund Academy sitting at the absolute top, hoarding the best resources and breeding the most arrogant elites, which included Leon. The rest were ranked below them with their own specialties, like Ketthem Institute for dwarves making gear or Drenn for producing rigid soldiers.
Grett Academy was ranked second, known for being well-rounded but never quite elite enough to threaten Hollund's position. It was where reliable fighters went when they knew they wouldn't become champions.
'Which is exactly why it's the perfect place to start,' he walked over to his bed and picked up the shirt he left out the night before. 'I can gather the people I need without the spotlight blinding us.'
He pulled the shirt over his head, show how leaner this body was compared to his old, but the week of conditioning was enough to wake his muscles up and get him feeling strong again.
He grabbed the admission letter off the table and tucked it into his pocket.
"Time to see if this system actually works," he said, stepping out and closing the door behind him.
He walked down the street, passing by the bakery when someone called out to him.
"Hello handsome sir!"
He turned to see a girl waving at him from inside the bakery, flour dusted across her nose from the morning's baking. She was sliding a warm loaf of bread across the counter before he even walked up.
"Don't you have an exam today?" she asked, her dark eyes sparkling with excitement. "I woke up early and made this for you!"
He walked up to the counter and took the bread, the warmth seeping into his palms. "Thanks, Lucy. You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to though!" She clasped her hands together, bouncing slightly on her heels. "You've been such a nice customer this week. Most guys just glare at me when I mess up their order."
'You have no idea how nice you are,' he thought, taking a bite of the bread. It was soft, slightly sweet, with a hint of honey. 'In the original story, you were not mentioned but since this country got wiped out, I am sure you didn't make it.'
"Good luck on your exam!" she chirped, waving as he turned to leave. "I hope you get into a good class!"
"I'll do my best," he said, holding up the bread in acknowledgment. "See you around, Lucy."
As he walked away, he took another bite of the bread. 'Fresh baked goods in the morning, a kind smile, and genuine well wishes. This is way better than instant ramen.'
He continued down the street, weaving through the morning crowd. Elyshard was already bustling with activity—merchants setting up stalls, students in various academy uniforms rushing to their own exams, and a surprising mix of races walking side by side.
Elves with their tall, slender frames and pointed ears, dwarves barely reaching his chest but built like tanks, beastkin with fox ears and tails brushing past him, even a few dragonborn with their scales glinting faintly in the light.
'This city is insane,' he thought, glancing up at the skyline. 'They say it spans over a hundred square miles. Ten academies, each one taking up enough space to be a town within the city.'
The Decadian wasn't just a school system, it was the backbone of human civilization, well, at least in this country. Each academy had its own district, economy and culture. Hollund sat at the center like a crown jewel, its towers piercing the clouds.
'Ten academies the size of towns, all packed into one city,' he mused, finishing the last of the bread. 'No wonder the transport system is a nightmare during exam season.'
The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he got.
Grett and Hollund liked to pretend they were meritocracies. They talked a big game about talent and potential, about how anyone could rise through the ranks if they worked hard enough.
That was complete garbage.
In reality, the class system was rigged from the start. Your family name determined everything. Noble-born students automatically got placed in A or B classes, with access to the best instructors, training grounds and equipment.
Commoners? They got shuffled into C or D classes, underfunded and overcrowded, with instructors who couldn't be bothered to care.
Resources flowed to the elite, everyone else got scraps.
'Chapter 5 of the original novel even mentioned it,' he thought bitterly. 'Seri ended up in Class D because her family was poor. She almost dropped out before she could even start.'
The worst part? Hollund and Grett didn't even try to hide it. They called it "befitting your status." As if being born into a noble family automatically made you better than everyone else.
Leon, of course, got into Class S at Hollund right away. His "divine blessing" from Astra made sure of that. He didn't have to work for anything.
Tany didn't have a divine blessing or a famous family name or rich parents, but he had something Leon never did.
'Knowledge,' he thought, his expression hardening. 'I am going to use what I know to rise to the top and bring everyone along for the ride.'
Being in S class was not just for show, It meant access to the ears of the academy leadership, meaning people would actually listen to what he had to say.
'I don't need to "lay low" and pretend I'm weak,' he thought, his grip tightening on the admission letter in his pocket. 'I need to rise fast, rise loud, and build something Leon never bothered to build.'
The entrance exam was his first step.
The Grett entrance exam had two stages. First was the mana test, where they measured your magical potential on a scale of one to a hundred.
Second was combat, a spar against a professor to see what you could actually do, each was worth a hundred points.
Class assignment was simple, get above eighty in both and you landed in S class. Seventy to seventy-nine got you A and sixty to sixty-nine was B, anything below that, you were thrown into C or D with the rest of the trash.
'Most commoners scrape by with fifties or sixties,' he thought, arriving at the gates of Grett Academy. 'They don't stand a chance.'
Students were crowded around the entrance, nervous chatter filling the air. He saw nobles in fancy clothes, commoners in patched-up robes, and everything in between.
[System fully synced]
[Activating in 10 seconds]