"Move faster, Kale! You're going to miss your own Rite!" called a boy ahead, his voice laced with both impatience and amusement.

Kale stumbled as he jogged to catch up, his lanky frame uncoordinated and awkward. "I'm coming, alright? You don't need to yell!" he shouted back, panting.

The other boy, Jaron, smirked. "Don't want the village thinking you're a coward. Or worse, that you're late because you're scared of what they'll find out."

Kale winced but didn't answer. Of course, he was scared. Everyone was scared of the Rite. The revelation of one's stats wasn't just a ceremony—it was a judgment. For some, it meant glory, a future in the capital among the elites. For others, it was a mark of mediocrity, a sentence to a life of toil. And for someone like Kale, who was already seen as a failure, the stakes were unbearable.

They reached the Hall of Revelation just as the crowd settled. Inside, Elder Harran stood tall and imposing near the Arcstone. The massive crystal pulsed faintly, casting a cold blue light across the room.

"Kale!" his sister Lia's voice cut through the buzz of the crowd. She elbowed her way over, her uniform pristine, her presence commanding. The village's pride and joy. "Try to stand straight at least," she hissed, adjusting his collar. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"I feel like it," Kale mumbled. "Can't you just tell them I'm fine and skip this whole thing?"

"Not how it works," Lia said with a sigh, softening for a moment. "Just... don't overthink it, alright? Whatever your stats are, they'll fit somewhere."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You're an A."

Lia didn't reply. Instead, she gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and moved back to join the other dignitaries at the front.

"Next!" Elder Harran's voice boomed, silencing the room.

Kale's heart stopped. It was his turn.

"Go on," Jaron whispered, shoving him lightly. "We're all watching."

Kale's legs felt like lead as he climbed the short stairs to the platform. He stood before the Arcstone, the crowd's whispers prickling at his back.

"Kale of Elarin," Harran intoned. "Place your hand on the Arcstone."

Kale extended his trembling hand, the faint glow of his Stat Gem already pulsing in response to the stone. He glanced at the Elder, hoping for a hint of reassurance, but Harran's expression was unreadable.

The moment his palm touched the Arcstone, light exploded around him, dazzling and intense. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Kale squinted, trying to see past the brilliance. Then, as the light dimmed, the numbers appeared.

Strength: F

Speed: F

Endurance: F

Intelligence: F

Potential: —

The hall fell silent.

"What...?" Kale breathed. He turned to Harran, his voice cracking. "What does that mean?"

Harran's lips pressed into a thin line. "Your Potential is blank. You are unranked."

"Unranked?" someone in the crowd whispered.

"That's not possible," another voice added.

"Silence!" Harran barked. He looked down at Kale, his stern mask faltering just slightly. "This... has never happened before."

"So, what does it mean for me?" Kale asked, his voice shaking.

"It means you are... unfit for the structure of Statos. Without Potential, you have no future within the system."

"No future?" Kale's throat tightened. "But that's not fair! There has to be some kind of mistake—"

"The Arcstone does not make mistakes," Harran interrupted. He turned to the crowd. "The decision is clear. Kale is to be exiled."

"Exiled?" Kale stumbled back, the word hitting him like a hammer.

"This is law," Harran said, his voice heavy. "Without rank, you cannot contribute. Your place is no longer here."

Murmurs spread through the hall. Kale caught snippets—"cursed," "useless," "what a shame." He saw his mother's tearful face, his sister looking away, unable to meet his eyes.

"Wait!" Kale pleaded. "Please, just let me—"

"Enough," Harran said, cutting him off. "Leave this place."

Kale's legs gave out for a moment, but somehow, he managed to stumble off the platform and out of the hall. The crowd parted like a wave, their stares burning into him. Not one hand reached out to help.

---

Hours later, Kale found himself standing at the edge of the Wastes, the barren land stretching endlessly before him. His feet ached, his throat was dry, but the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.