After the whole mess with Super Intelligence, my plans shifted.
Before that, I'd been waiting.
Waiting for Maya to fully master her ability so we could climb together.
Waiting for the right timing.
Waiting for synchronization.
I'd built my pace around hers.
I was planning around her.
Relying on her.
"I'll slow down. Let her catch up. Then we'll move together," I'd told myself more than once.
It sounded noble in my head.
It sounded smart.
It was neither.
After nearly cooking my own brain with Super Intelligence, something ugly surfaced — something I didn't want to admit.
I'd been limiting myself.
Not because I trusted her too much.
But because I subconsciously needed someone else beside me before I was willing to move forward.
That was weakness.
My survival in this world would be decided by my strength.
Not Maya's.
Not Lucas's.
Not anyone's.
If I fell behind, it wouldn't matter how strong my allies were.
They wouldn't be able to save me.
"Tsk… how did I even convince myself that was fine?"
The problem wasn't distrust.
It was comfort.
I'd been hiding my growth behind strategy.
But hiding forever is just a slower version of dying.
Sure, climbing higher meant attracting attention. More eyes. More hostility.
But staying stagnant was worse.
Attention I could handle.
Helplessness? No.
I stretched, joints popping lightly as tension finally left my shoulders.
"Damn… staying in bed all day really messes with your head," I muttered.
"Nowhere like home."
…That was generous.
I'd spent exactly one day in my apartment before getting shoved into another world.
Does that even count as home?
I spread my arms wide and dropped backward.
Thump.
The mattress absorbed most of the impact, but the sound was oddly satisfying.
For a second, I just stared at the ceiling.
Then I reached for my phone.
The Triangle's official portal loaded quickly. Of course they had a full digital ranking system. Of course they monitored everything.
This place ran like a military lab disguised as a school.
After logging in, I opened the ranking board.
Lucas.
Still steady.
Untouched.
Riven, Dhara, Raisel — all climbing. All solidifying their positions.
Top 10 now.
Impressive.
Expected.
"Alright… who first?"
The First Challenge mechanic was ridiculous when you really thought about it.
Your first official ranked match allowed you to challenge anyone.
Rank 1.
Rank 5.
Even S-Class.
Which was exactly why I'd stopped Maya from using hers.
Blowing your first challenge recklessly was suicide.
"Top 10 is annoying… Top 20 even more so…"
Technically, nothing stopped you.
Unofficially? Plenty did.
The "Lower-Rank Revolt" policy.
A quiet internal agreement pushed by instructors to stop reckless pride fights. Too many students got crushed trying to jump into the elite rankings too early.
Demoralized.
Broken.
Sometimes permanently.
"Top 30… that feels right."
High enough to matter.
Low enough to avoid unnecessary chaos.
I scrolled until I found a name that looked clean.
Dustin Trew — Rank 30.
Six fights. Six wins.
Good.
Consistent.
Not too flashy.
I stood up, slipped my brass knuckles into my item pouch, and left the dorm.
The cafeteria was louder than usual. Energy shifted whenever rankings started moving.
Invisible "zones" formed like always.
Class clusters.
Faction tables.
Status circles.
I pulled up Dustin's profile and scanned the room.
White hair.
Built like a tank.
Class A2.
There.
Found him in less than a minute.
He was laughing with a few others.
"…Three challenges in one day. You're screwed," one of his friends joked.
"That's what you get for losing to that B-Class kid," another added.
Dustin rolled his shoulders lazily, chewing a potato like nothing bothered him.
I stepped up to the table.
"Dustin."
He looked up.
His gaze lingered on my badge.
Recognition.
Mild irritation.
"I challenge you to an official ranking match."
He looked me over slowly.
"I don't want to."
Fair.
I pulled out my student card.
"Doesn't matter. First Challenge."
His expression changed instantly.
The table shook when he stood.
"You little—fine. Let's fight," he snapped. "I'll kill you."
I almost laughed.
Predictable.
Emotional.
Easy to manipulate.
"We'll see."
You never enter a fight angry.
He already lost the mental battle.
Meanwhile — Lucas
"Hey, Lucas."
"Make it quick."
"It's about Dreyden."
Lucas paused.
That got his attention.
"What about him?"
Arlo grinned.
"When rankings opened, he didn't fight at all. Then suddenly used his first challenge. Beat Dustin. Now he's on his third match."
Lucas frowned faintly.
Dustin… he barely remembered the name.
Rank 30 or somewhere near it.
Not his concern.
"And?"
"He's already moving toward the top 20."
Lucas leaned back.
"It's a ranking match. That's the point."
Arlo sighed. "You're boring."
Lucas ignored him.
But inwardly, something tugged at him.
Because every time he looked at Dreyden with Luck Point…
He saw white.
Not red.
Not yellow.
Not gold.
White.
Undefined.
When he invited Dreyden into his faction, the color turned blue.
Neutral.
Which bothered him more than red ever did.
"You should watch," the voice inside him murmured.
Lucas went still.
"You don't care about students."
"This one is different."
Silence.
That made Lucas more uneasy than anything else.
"You want me to go that badly?"
"Yes."
"…You'll train me?"
"Yes."
Lucas tightened his grip on the door handle.
Why Dreyden?
Why interest now?
Was it threat?
Opportunity?
Or something worse?
"I'll see for myself," Lucas decided.
Arena
By the time I stepped into the arena, the crowd had tripled.
Apparently word spread fast when someone chained matches back-to-back.
First match: nerves.
Second: noise.
Third?
Expectation.
Julien stood opposite me.
Level 6 ability.
Cloning.
Each copy splitting his magic energy thinner.
Effective early on.
Disastrous if mismanaged.
I rolled my shoulders once and took a relaxed stance.
"I hope you're ready," Julien sneered. "You've only beaten weaklings."
I tilted my head slightly.
He talks too much.
"After all," I said lightly, "you're pretty weak."
His composure snapped instantly.
Good.
The referee stepped forward.
"Ready—"
His hand dropped.
"Start!"