"Ryan Nether…" Pims said, her tone flat as stone. "Rank 387."
For a moment, I thought I misheard her.
Rank three hundred and eighty-seven?
I gripped the edge of my desk, forcing myself not to leap out of my chair like some lunatic who just won a lottery.
My mind raced anyway.
Three-eight-seven out of two thousand students.
That… wasn't bad. Not bad at all. Actually, screw that, this was great.
For someone like me, who didn't have an ability, didn't have a bloodline or bought technique, didn't have years of sword training or martial arts crammed down my throat from age five, this was basically top-tier.
And if I'm being honest, I expected worse. Much worse. I half-expected her to say, "Ryan Nether, rank one-thousand-and-something, please pack your bags and leave the academy through the trash chute."
But no. Rank 387. I wasn't Yara with her rank one smug silence, but still… this was the kind of result I could live with for now at least. Maybe even brag about if I wanted to.
