Chương 53: First Day, and Rank 1,847

The colossal magical stone stele, fifty meters tall, stood at the center of Solaris Academy's main plaza. Its surface, dark obsidian, glowed with brilliant gold light, displaying the ranked list of Combat Power and Academic Standing for exactly two thousand of the finest students selected from all seven empires. Thousands of newly enrolled students in crisp uniforms crowded around the base of the stele, staring up at the glowing text with intense anxiety.

Lucian, one hand holding a hot meat bun he'd just bought from the cafeteria and the other in his pocket, ambled through the crowd toward the base of the stele. His goal for the morning was simple: land somewhere between 1, 500 and 1, 800.

Per the thick student handbook Sylvia had read through the night before: students ranked in the top 100 were required to join border patrols and field missions for the Student Council; students ranked 101 to 500 had to compete in international friendly tournaments; only students ranked 1, 500 or lower got the privilege of... sitting in an air-conditioned room studying on their own, fully exempt from any military obligation. Lucian tilted his head back and scanned the names at the top of the stele.

[SOLARIS ACADEMY ACADEMIC & COMBAT RANKING] Rank 1: Eleanor Sophia de Solaris (Student Council President) — Combat Power: 26, 100, 000 Rank 2: Evelyn Wright (First Scholar) — Combat Power: 24, 800, 000 Rank 3: Julian von Valois (Head of Discipline) — Combat Power: 6, 500, 000... He let his eyes drift down toward the bottom of the list, searching for his own name.

At position 1, 847, the pale gold text came into clear focus: Rank 1, 847: Lucian Vance (College of Culture & Commerce) — Combat Power Reading: 1, 480, 000 Lucian took a bite of his bun, letting out a relieved breath.

"Perfect. One million four hundred eighty thousand. Right at rank 1, 847. The ideal position to coast through the next three years." Thump! Right beside him, a hulking first-year boy suddenly dropped to both knees on the marble, burying his face in his hands and sobbing.

"Merciful heavens! One point five million Combat Power and I'm ranked 1, 846! My father's the Western Earl — when he finds out I'm nearly dead last, he's going to have my head!" A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Lucian, mid-chew, froze. He turned to look at the boy sobbing pitifully beside him, then at the 1. 5-million figure next to his name, then back up at Eleanor's 26 million at the top of the stele.

Lucian swallowed his bite of bun and stood in stunned silence for a full five seconds. One and a half million Combat Power — enough to make an adventurer a legend in any border city — was only good for rank... one thousand eight hundred forty-six, counting from the top, at this school. Was this an academy or a boot camp for teenage weapons of mass destruction? Up on the third-floor balcony of the Student Council building, overlooking the plaza directly.

Eleanor, in her navy-and-gold council president's cloak, leaned her hands against the stone railing, her blue eyes fixed on the small figure standing at the base of the stele, eating a bun. She watched Lucian glance up at "1, 847" and smile with satisfaction, and her jaw tightened, fingers gripping the railing.

"This guy... punched a two-hundred-billion-point divine machine into submission at the top of that tower, and now he's grinning about ranking near the bottom of the class. Playing the weakling to hide the tiger again." Down at the base of the stele, the noble students around Lucian began to spot the name "Lucian Vance" sitting right at the bottom of the rankings. Mocking laughter and contemptuous stares turned toward him at once.

"Look at that! The only son of Sword Emperor Regulus!"

"One point four million? He lost to some coastal baron's daughter!"

"Typical — a merchant's brat who bought his way to a title, and the second real competition shows up, the true worthless colors come out!" Lucian calmly finished off the last bite of his bun, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, and didn't so much as glance at the crowd of nobles around him. Good. Keep underestimating him. He ran the math silently in his head: the more people who thought he was a washed-up Rank E scrub, the better his betting odds would be once the Academy's internal tournament rounds started.

Collecting bets from arrogant fools was always the cleanest, highest-margin income stream available. Ting! The student badge pinned to Lucian's uniform flashed a faint blue light. [STUDENT IDENTITY SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE] Owner: Lucian Vance (Rank 1, 847). Access granted: Academy Dungeon Forest, Floors 1–5. Today's schedule: Period 1 — Applied Ancient Language Decoding, Grand Library. Lucian turned and strolled down the maple-lined stone path toward the central Grand Library.

The library sprawled across tens of thousands of square meters, its vaulted stained-glass ceiling scattering glittering light across thousands of rows of ancient shelving. The space was utterly silent, carrying only the smell of old paper and the faint rustle of turning pages through the cool air. Lucian walked into Section 4 — the ancient-language research wing reserved for senior students.

At a long granite table pushed against a sunlit window, a girl with a high black ponytail sat alone, surrounded by stacks of thick metallurgy textbooks. She wasn't reading. Evelyn Wright's slender hand rested flat on the granite tabletop, her fingers tapping out a steady rhythm — tack... tack-tack... tack... — in perfect Morse code, straight out of an Earth programmer's habits.