The following morning, the academy revealed its next move. A message appeared on the wall-mounted screen in my room, summoning all students to the central lecture hall. The clock read 7:45 a.m.—barely enough time to grab something to eat, assuming the cafeteria was even operational.
When I arrived at the lecture hall, it was already packed. Students whispered among themselves, tension hanging in the air like a storm about to break. The seats were arranged in neat rows, and above the stage, a massive display screen flickered with the academy's emblem.
I found a seat near the middle, neither too conspicuous nor too hidden. Daichi joined me shortly after, his face pale but determined. "You think this is about ranks?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
"Everything here is about ranks," I replied. "But it's too early for them to start eliminating people. They'll push us in other ways first."
Before he could respond, the lights dimmed. The screen above the stage lit up, and a figure walked onto the platform. It was Headmaster Cole. His sharp suit and commanding presence drew immediate silence from the crowd.
"Good morning," Cole began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. "Congratulations on surviving your first trial. The labyrinth was merely an introduction—a taste of the challenges ahead. Today, we move on to the foundation of your education at Karasuma Academy: the Hierarchy System."
The screen behind him shifted, displaying a detailed chart. It was divided into five tiers, with each rank group clearly outlined. Students in the top twenty were highlighted in gold, while those in the bottom twenty were marked in red.
"Your rank determines everything," Cole continued. "Your privileges, your opportunities, and yes, your survival in this institution. Starting today, you will have the chance to climb the ladder… or fall."
Murmurs rippled through the hall, a mix of anxiety and anticipation. I kept my expression neutral, but inside, I was already analyzing the implications. This was no ordinary school; this was a battlefield, and rank was both the weapon and the prize.
"To aid you in this endeavor," Cole said, "each of you will be provided with a personal account. Points will be awarded based on performance, behavior, and… discretion." He let the last word linger, a clear hint that some methods of earning points might not be entirely aboveboard.
The screen displayed a sample account interface, complete with categories for spending points on necessities and luxuries. The higher your rank, the more points you started with. I noted with mild interest that the bottom tier—ranks 81 to 100—received barely enough points for basic survival.
"One final note," Cole added, his gaze sweeping over the room. "Your actions have consequences. Collaboration is encouraged, but betrayal is inevitable. Choose your allies carefully."
With that, he stepped back, and the lights brightened. An assistant took the stage to explain the technicalities of the points system, but my focus had already shifted. The real game wasn't about the mechanics; it was about how they could be manipulated.
Daichi leaned closer. "What do you think?"
"I think," I said, keeping my voice low, "that we've just been handed the rules to a very dangerous game."
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Classes were introductory, mostly designed to familiarize us with the curriculum and the academy's expectations. But beneath the surface, alliances were already forming. Groups clustered in the hallways, whispering plans and promises.
By evening, I returned to my room, only to find a note slipped under the door. It was a simple piece of paper, folded neatly. Unfolding it, I read the single line written in bold, precise handwriting:
"Meet me at the observatory. Midnight."
No name, no indication of who had sent it. My first instinct was to ignore it—a trap was the most obvious explanation. But curiosity and opportunity often walked hand in hand.
At 11:50 p.m., I slipped out of my room, keeping to the shadows as I made my way to the observatory. The building was quiet, most students wisely choosing to rest after the day's revelations. The observatory itself was perched on the roof, a circular room with glass walls offering a panoramic view of the campus.
When I arrived, someone was already there. Celeste, rank three, stood by the railing, her silhouette framed by the moonlight. She turned as I approached, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"Ryuto Kurogane," she said, her voice smooth and confident. "I had a feeling you'd come."
I stopped a few paces away, keeping my expression unreadable. "You went through a lot of trouble to get my attention. What do you want?"
She tilted her head, studying me like a cat sizing up its prey. "Let's just say I'm interested in your potential. You're not like the others. You're… calculated."
"Flattery won't get you anywhere," I said, crossing my arms. "If you have something to say, say it."
Her smile widened. "Very well. I propose an alliance. Temporary, of course. There's a storm coming, Ryuto. And it's always better to face a storm with a partner."
I didn't respond immediately, letting the silence stretch. Celeste was dangerous, that much was clear. But danger often came with opportunity.
"I'll consider it," I said finally. "But if this is a trap, you'll regret it."
She laughed softly, a sound that sent a chill down my spine. "Oh, Ryuto. I wouldn't dream of it."
As I left the observatory, her words lingered in my mind. The game was beginning, and every move mattered. But if Celeste thought she could manipulate me, she was in for a surprise.
Because in this game, I wasn't just a piece on the board. I was a player.