I didn't hear much of what the boy beside me was saying anymore. His words felt like background noise, fading into the buzz of students whispering and chattering around us.
It was something about being surprised she was here… about rich kids having their own private day for assessments. None of that mattered.
What mattered was that she haven't yet done anything to me yet.
But If she so much as whispered a complaint to the right person, my entire existence at this academy could vanish overnight.
No, scratch that. Not just my existence here. My future. My chance at survival in this world. Everything.
I thought maybe I should just go apologize. Maybe bow my head, admit I was an idiot, and pray she'd find it amusing enough not to ruin me.
But then again… apologizing to someone like her? Someone with power, influence, and a temper? That was like painting a target on my back and saying, Go ahead, ruin me for sport.
"Damn," I muttered under my breath. "System why did you do this to me."
But still, a question nagged at me, louder than my self-loathing.
Why was she here now?
The boy had said something about how people like her, children of the elite, usually had their assessments scheduled privately on the first day.
Special treatment. Easy paths. Yet here she was, standing among us who were normal rich people, except me, on the fifth day. Why?
Before I could spiral further into my thoughts, the atmosphere in the room shifted, like a thick wave of pressure pressing down on my chest.
The air grew heavy, suffocating, and instinctively everyone froze. All eyes turned toward the other end of the training hall.
I followed their gaze.
Standing there, his very presence radiating intimidation, was our instructor, Gari.
His eyes were cold, sharp like a hawk's, and the oppressive aura he released seemed to claw into our skin.
"Ah," he drawled, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "That enough to make you all keep quiet for a moment? Maybe realize you're here for an assessment and not a talking or viewing center?"
No one answered. Of course no one answered. Who would be suicidal enough to?
Gari was terrifying in a way that went beyond just physical strength. He had this… weight to him. One wrong move, one stupid word, and it felt like he'd crush you where you stood.
"So," he continued, his tone calm but laced with steel, "as you all know, you are here for your ranking assessment. What we are going to do is quite simple. If you think it's not simple, then you probably need a brain check."
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.
Scary doesn't even begin to cover this guy.
He raised a hand, casually gesturing toward us.
"First, let me explain how ranking works. If you make it into the top one hundred, one hundred down to one, you're what we call 'useful trash.' Anything below one hundred, and you're nothing but useless trash. Got it?"
No one dared to speak. The silence was deafening.
Gari's gaze swept across us before shifting toward the other half of the training ground, the one filled with robot dummies, archery targets, and various combat props.
"Like I said, it's easy. Those are what we'll use to assess you," he explained. "Each student I call will step forward. From the moment you cross this line to the other side, everything about you will be recorded, and analyzed, your speed, movement, attack, skill… all the important details."
We just stared at him, most of us looking confused. I didn't want to admit it, but I was one of them.
Gari sighed, as if he had expected our stupidity.
"This entire side of the room is a machine," he clarified. "It analyzes every movement you make. Punch one of the dummies, and it'll measure your hit strength, hit speed, and more. All of it gets recorded."
He then pointed at a large, plain black board fixed high above the area.
"Normally, that board displays your results in real time. But for today, it's deactivated. The results will only appear in our private system. If you want to see your scores later, when you train here on your own, that's your business."
His lips twitched, just the faintest hint of amusement, which only made him more intimidating.
"I don't like wasting time," he said finally. "So let's get started."
The room seemed to tighten, the tension snapping into place like a drawn bowstring.
This was it. The ranking assessment was beginning.