Kael awoke beneath the sterile white ceiling of the Academy's infirmary. The faint hum of machines filled the air, and the sharp scent of disinfectant burned his nose. A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes, and every muscle in his body felt like lead. His tongue felt like sandpaper, his throat raw. Even blinking sent a dull throb through his skull. He tried to shift, only for a stabbing pain to radiate through his ribs.
"Don't move," a sharp voice commanded.
Kael turned his head and saw a nurse—a woman with a stern expression and a wristband glowing a soft blue. She adjusted the IV beside his bed and checked the monitor displaying his vitals.
"You pushed yourself too hard," she said curtly. "Your body went into shock. If the simulation hadn't ended when it did, you could have been in serious danger."
Kael didn't respond. His mind was still sluggish, but one thought pierced through the haze: The Vestige is gone.
The infirmary door swung open, and Professor Vayne entered. Her presence was like the first rumble of thunder before a storm, tension thickening the air. She dismissed the nurse with a curt nod and stepped closer to Kael's bed.
"You're full of surprises," she said coolly. "Defeating a Class 3 Bestiora is no small feat—especially for someone of your rank."
Kael's heart skipped a beat. "I… got lucky," he rasped.
Vayne's eyes narrowed slightly. "Luck doesn't explain your speed or precision. Or why you lost consciousness. The simulation was realistic, but you shouldn't have collapsed. That's not normal. Is that also a side effect of your ability?"
Kael's mind raced. He couldn't tell her the truth, but he also couldn't afford to raise further suspicion. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, just enough to make the answer seem reluctant. "Yes," he said carefully. "That's why I never use it at full strength. I can only activate it under specific conditions, and afterward, I'm completely drained."
It was a lie—one that, if believed, could justify the way he had seemingly unlocked an unknown power.
Vayne studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp and assessing. Kael forced himself to hold her stare, even as his pulse pounded in his ears. For a brief moment, her eyes flickered to the heart monitor beside him. Checking his vitals—or his lies? Finally, she exhaled softly, as if she had reached a conclusion.
"That ability will only take you so far," she said finally. "You'll need to refine it."
With that, she turned and left, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Kael exhaled slowly, sinking back into the bed. His chest tightened with unease. He had to come to terms with the truth—he needed to move forward without the Vestige.
Later that day, Kael was discharged from the infirmary and summoned to the main hall, where the exam results would be announced. The vast room buzzed with anxious murmurs, students shifting restlessly as they awaited their fates.
Kael positioned himself at the back, his body still aching, his thoughts racing.
Professor Vayne took the stage, and the hall fell silent. "The results of the practical exam are in," she announced. "The top ten students will receive additional resources and privileges. The bottom twenty will undergo remedial training—or be expelled."
A holographic leaderboard materialized in the air, listing the top performers. Kael scanned it frantically, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.
There—just barely within the top ten—his name glowed in stark clarity:
Kael Arvid – Rank 42
A ripple of disbelief spread through the crowd. Kael could feel their stares, hear the hushed murmurs.
"How did a Rank 42 nobody make it into the top ten?" someone with a Rank 56 wristband muttered.
"He took down a Class 3 Bestiora with zero prior experience," another student, Rank 40, countered. "And he aced the written exam. He earned his place."
"Too bad he's only a 42," a third voice sneered. "If his ability rank were higher, he'd be in the upper high-ranks—maybe even an 80+. But with a 42, he's barely scraping by."
A realization struck Kael like a punch to the gut. Standing out meant becoming a target. His high placement would attract challengers—students eager to duel him and claim his rank for themselves.
A deep gong resonated through the hall.
A massive hologram flickered to life, and the Director's imposing image loomed over the students.
"In the next hour," he declared, "your official Academy Ranks will be updated based on your exam performance and current ability ratings. These rankings are absolute, though they may fluctuate daily through duels or exceptional achievements."
As the hologram faded and the crowd began to disperse, a hand gripped Kael's shoulder. He turned to see Mira, her expression unreadable.
"You're full of surprises," she said, echoing Vayne's earlier words. "But you're also reckless. If you keep drawing attention like this, it's going to get you killed."
Kael remained silent. He didn't have the energy to argue.
Mira's gaze sharpened. "Listen, I don't know what you're hiding, but you can't keep this up forever. I have my eye on you, and so do the elites. Plenty of them think you're using some kind of enhancement. If they find proof…"
She didn't need to finish. Kael knew exactly what would happen.
"What do you want from me?" he asked quietly.
Mira hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "I want you to duel me," she said. "I want to be the one to take you down."
Kael's instincts screamed at him to refuse, but he was running out of options. The Vestige was gone, and he had nothing left to rely on.
"I'm trying to keep a low profile," he said at last. "I won't be accepting any duels for now."
Mira smirked. "Of course you won't." With that, she disappeared into the dispersing crowd.
Moments later, his wristband vibrated. Kael glanced down.
Academy Rank: 58.
He had been placed among the lower elite ranks and would now be assigned to the elite class. His efforts had paid off, but at the cost of even more scrutiny. The risk of being challenged had never been higher.
That night, Kael lay awake in bed, his mind in turmoil. Tomorrow, he would join a class filled with students ranked between 50 and 60. He had survived the exam, but at what cost?
The Vestige was gone. Time was running out.
He reached under his pillow, fingers brushing against the empty space where the Vestige had once been. A hollow pit formed in his stomach.
The real game of survival was only just beginning.