Well, how to say it? The test was bullshit. As a matter of fact, the ID card would have already measured the strength of every student using a number basis. Let's just say that the previous test was to give a more personalized result for the future teachers, but for the most part, the ID card had taken care of it.
F = 0-2,500
E = 2,500-7,500
D = 7,500-15,000
C = 15,000-30,000
B = 30,000-60,000
A = 60,000-100,000
S = 100,000-200,000
AS = >200,000
The score benchmarking was quite simple, but Dean was still quite pissed about it. His marksmanship score wasn't included in the automatically assigned score, so he had the right to be pissed. And with 60% of the score going to magic while the 40% rest went for the strength, guess what combat power rank Dean would get.
[Name: Dean Barnett]
[Rank: Private]
[Combat Power: 2,000 | F]
[Unit: 24th Infantry Division, 2nd Brigade, 120th Training Battalion, 1C Combat Platoon/Class]
[Room: #222 | Abardeeen Street 25]
Yup, a big bloody F without anything to redeem for it. The marksman training? Wasted. Dean just sighed while facing his score. He only could grind the academic route if this was the case. Combat route involving the special operation command would be out of the question. Academic was the way to go.
Not every year the academy received an F-rank student, and yet, here Dean was, standing in front of the academy as the only F-rank student. Well, there would be no class for today, the class started tomorrow. The best thing that he could do for now was to head back to the dorm and hope that Mick and his monkey didn't look for revenge.
Because now, they wouldn't dare to use their magic to deal with Dean and Dean was practically armless since carrying a pistol wasn't allowed at this moment, yet. To carry firearms in school, you would need a special permit, and it would only limit you to a mere pistol, not really good in a situation where everyone could use magic.
If only they allowed Dean to carry his M4-EC around, he would feel a little bit safe. But well, as per regulation, he only could carry them outside of the academy on the condition that he wore military uniform and the rifle must not be loaded. Tracing a shooter would be easy with that condition.
The dormitory was located far enough away from the academy building, probably around six blocks away from the main academy building. Between those two buildings were parks and commercial areas. Almara Island might be a military area, but not all of them were strictly military.
The commercial area really consisted of many stores and some cafeterias. It might be a good idea to come there every once in a while, maybe bring one girl or two. Dean continued walking towards the dormitory.
The dormitory was usually only inhabited by three classes or so. Basically, 60 students inside of one dormitory with each room could be inhabited by 3 students or less. 1 dormitory had 20 rooms.
Reading the room number was easy. The first digit is the dormitory name, the second digit was the floor, the third digit was the room. This dorm, dorm number #2, has five floors with four rooms each.
The layout of the building was quite simple. In front of that five-story building was an empty parking lot that might be able to be turned into a training yard if the need arose. The only object in that parking area was a parked APC armed with 30 mm autocannons. If that thing was armed, it meant that someone in this dorm had been training as mechanized infantry lately.
To get to the top floor, there were two ways. One was to take the stairs and the other was the elevator. Of course, Dean took the stairs since it would be faster. He put his ID in front of the RFID reader in front of the room.
It turned out, his other dorm mates were already been in there. One was literally looking at his wardrobe and the other had already been sleeping with his suitcase still on the side of his bed.
The layout of the room itself was simple. It had one bunk bed alongside one ordinary bed, all equipped with pillows. Three study desks alongside three dressers were right across that bed, probably two meters away from the bed. Between the beds was a table, a big table on top of a carpet. It might be the main gathering spot.
The one who was looking at the wardrobe noticed him. This boy was dressed in a checkered shirt alongside jeans, "Ah, soldier boy."
"Excuse me?" Dean wondered what kind of greeting was that. Just because he was wearing a military uniform from the get-go, it didn't mean he like to be called like that. But it was true.
"Sorry for the greeting, the name's Andre, what's yours?" He asked.
"Dean."
"Ah, Dean, nice to meet you. The sleeping guy's Orion. Anyway, I want to ask you, Dean. Is it true that you're an F-rank?"
"More or less."
"So, soldier boy, how are your last school?" Andre asked as he approached Dean even closer. At this point, Dean didn't feel good about his position. Dean couldn't see what was behind his hand either.
"Good, I guess?" Dean wasn't sure how to respond to it.
"Bet you never see this!" Andre pulled a blade out of his left hand. Dean responded by doing what he would do best. He slammed Andre's with his elbow. Andre flinched from the attack.
Dean then slammed the knife out of Andre's hand and he slammed Andre's face again with the other elbow. He then followed it with a combo attack using both of his legs before grabbing him by the hand and throwing him to the table and smacking his head to it.
He pulled his pistol out of its holster and put it on Andre's head. "FREEZE! THIS ONE IS LOADED!" Dean didn't bluff this time, it was indeed loaded. After the last test, Dean put the bullet that he put away back into the pistol.
Dean walked slowly to his backpack while Andre was still too shocked to react to what was going on. Dean pulled the rifle out of his backpack and loaded it with a fresh new magazine. He then put the end of the gun barrel at Andre's head.
"How do you feel if I splatter your brain into this table?" Dean asked as he pushed the end of the rifle at the back of Andre's head. 6.8x60 mm round would have no problem getting through any unarmored skull as far as Dean knew.
"Please, man, it was a joke."
"Joke?" Dean pushed his rifle to Andre's head even harder. "What kind of sick joke pointing a knife to your friend?" Orion suddenly woke up from the ruckus. Dean was worried that Orion was an ally of that. He put his foot at Andre's back and push it hard so he couldn't stand up.
"YOU! DON'T MOVE!" Dean glared at Orion who was not even aware of what was going on, but he was too scared to even ask.
On the first day of the academy and he looked at his friend that was pulling a prank to a paramilitary student that brought his rifle on the first day. The result was Andre's broken nose and him being at the mercy of Dean's rifle.
"Dude, I swear, put the gun down," Orion begged.
"HANDS! NOW!" Dean shouted.
Orion raised his hands, slowly. He didn't want to put Dean at an even bigger edge. He knew about the prank and told Andre that it was a bad idea. However, he didn't listen and he wanted to give Dean a good scare and prank. Even the rubber knife wasn't even looking that authentic.
"Dean, bro, it's a rubber knife," Andre begged for his life.
"Rubber?" Dean stepped the blade of the knife and it felt squishy. A blade wouldn't even be squishy in the first place. He kept the end of his rifle to those two and picked up the rubber knife. "Man… What the hell?"
"See. Look, bro, I'm sorry, ok, I really didn't mean it."
Dean was still pissed, but apologetic at the same time. "Oh, you did mean it, it just happened that you don't expect me to put the end of my gun barrel at you, do you?" He sighed. "Well, get up. Let me patch you up."
Dean went for his bag and grabbed a small bag with [+] sign on top of it. It was Dean's personal medical kit that he packed accordingly. He just packed it because he just felt that it was a necessity that he always needed to carry on his backpack at the very least.
"Dean, are you always carrying that plus thing with you?"
"It's a medicine kit, mate." Dean then grabbed a tube alongside wearing a glove in his right hand. He squeezed the tube and applied it to Andre's nose. He then chanted a healing spell on top of his nose. "That should be all done." Dean put his tube away.
Andre put his hand on the nose, and it wasn't hurting anymore. There wasn't any trace of blood. It was gone just as nothing happened. "How did you do that? You're an F-rank, that's fast. That kind of instantaneous healing is only possible by a D-rank or above."
Dean then sighed, "Magic is about efficiency, it doesn't mean I can't do shit."
"What did you use?" Andre asked.
"Antibiotic and analgesic cream, why do you ask?" Dean asked him back as he put the cap back on the tube. "Anyway, your prank has gone way too far, mate, you could have died today."
"Yeah, I apologize."
"Apology accepted, besides, I think the bruises are painful enough as a reminder," Dean shook Andre's hand and it became clear to Dean that Andre was too mischievous, even to the point of taking a gamble like that.
He wasn't much of a bad guy, after all, he just liked to mess around. Dean would keep an eye on Andre, a little bit of suspicion wouldn't hurt anyone. They then sat down at the table in the middle of the room, mostly telling their story.
"You have a first-responder certification? That's awesome," Andre praised Dean.
"And shit, man, I'll be lying if you are not impressing me with this thing," Dean showed the ice-cold drink that was made by Andre. Andre's specialization was ice magic. He created ice cubes out of thin air. "This is cool."
"I can create spears out of thin air, too," Andre said as he created a spear as big as an ordinary spear.
"Noted." Dean sipped on his drink.
"Noted? Dude, why are you noting it?" Andre asked back.
"So I can think of a counter for it."
"Dean, just because you can't use magic, it doesn't mean I will kill you or something."
Orion then added, "Say, he tried to kill you, what'll you do?"
"Can you throw that spear?" Dean asked.
"Of course," Andrew proudly said.
"For how far?" Dean asked again.
"I don't know, 10 to 20 meters?"
"You'll be dead before you even know it," Dean sipped on his drink.
Dean then put his rifle on top of the table. He pulled out the magazine from the magazine catcher. He pulled one bullet from the magazine. It was the first time Andre was the bullet at such close proximity. Dean even allowed Andre to touch it.
"6.8 mm bullet. This thing is capable of killing a target beyond 700 meters when fired from a 14.5" barrel. Now, are you telling me your spear is good enough?" Dean challenged the idea.
Dean had tried shooting a target from 2,000 meters using a scope, a special LRP bullet, and a 20" barrel using the same exact rifle. It still worked flawlessly. That was why he was confident with his statement. The difference wouldn't be that awful using 14.5" barrel either.
The group went silent. Dean wasn't aware of it, but it was the start of shifting doctrine that magic was superior from guns to magic would be more effective when working side by side with guns.
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Trivia:
I know, I know, 2,000 meters are very far, even surpassing the current top of the notch sniper rifle employed today. But still, remember that the rifle used a different and special propellant.