Changes

Nero's sudden announcement grabbed the attention of the entire class.

"We're introducing new rankings now," he declared, creating a buzz of anticipation. These rankings would encompass all 600 students in the Academy, providing a broader perspective beyond the individual years.

"Now, your rankings will be based on your standing among all students, not just those in your age group," Nero clarified before proceeding with the unveiling.

Curiosity bubbled within me as I awaited my position in the grand scheme of the Academy. I speculated it would likely be in the range of 400-500.

"First is Lucifer Windward," Nero declared, "Rank 98", causing a collective gasp to fill the room. Rank 98? That was surprisingly high. Yet, considering Lucifer's prowess, it made sense. Only the cream of Class 4-A could contend with him, and he could even surpass some sixth-years.

"Ren Kagu, rank 203. Rachel Creighton, rank 211. Jin Ashbluff, rank 234. Ian Viserion, rank 242. Cecilia Slatemark, rank 280. Seraphina Zenith, rank 297. Arthur Nightingale..." Nero's tone shifted, and not in a favorable way.

"Rank 379."

The revelation hit me with a pang. I was trailing behind by a significant margin, especially compared to Lucifer.

"These ranks are subject to change during the mid-year and end-of-year evaluations, so put your best foot forward to secure the highest possible benefits," Nero reassured the students, myself included. Surprisingly, my rank turned out higher than anticipated.

"As you gear up for mid-terms in the next six weeks, remember that they're crucial checkpoints for gauging your progress," Nero reminded us. "And don't forget about the upcoming 'Freshman Ball.' Have fun."

Curiosity sparked in Cecilia's crimson eyes as she raised her hand with a devious smile. "What exactly does the Freshman Ball entail?"

"The Freshman Ball is a cherished tradition at Mythos Academy," Nero explained. "It's a traditional ball exclusively for the first-years, a chance for you to enjoy yourselves. Mythos Academy isn't just about forging you into strong warriors and future leaders; it's also about ensuring you savor life."

I nodded in agreement, recognizing the value of balancing training and enjoyment, especially in times of relative peace.

"So, should we all find dates then?" Ian chuckled, glancing around the group.

"Not required, but certainly allowed," Nero replied with a smile. "However, keep in mind that no outside dates are permitted."

Ren took the opportunity to mutter, "Acting like he can even get a date."

Ren's muttered response was just loud enough for everyone to hear, causing Cecilia to giggle and Ian to fume.

Before Ian and Ren could erupt into a fight, Nero dismissed the class.

With that, our morning session concluded, and we transitioned to training. I continued honing the Grade 5 art, [Tempest Dance Technique], bestowed upon me for being a Class-A student.

While my fundamentals outshone even Lucifer's, the lack of a specific sword art was a glaring weakness. [Tempest Dance Technique] addressed that gap, a fluid sequence of sword movements designed to amplify their power when executed in order.

The dance-like routine blended beauty with lethality. Wrapping my sword in an aura resembling a hurricane, I faced the practice dummy, ready to unleash the art's full potential.

A precise stab initiated the sequence, followed by an upward diagonal slash. Swift and intricate movements followed, intertwining seamlessly. Each motion added a layer to the dance, building up the intensity. The aura around my sword blazed brighter with each step, reflecting the power inherent in [Tempest Dance Technique].

Lost in the rhythm of the dance, I became one with the blade, each motion an extension of my intent. The academy courtyard faded away, leaving only the swirling tempest of the art and the dummy in its midst.

Mastering this art could potentially open the gates to the transcendent realm of mastery, but such mastery lay more than a decade in the future.

The novel's power system, though simplistic, served its purpose. Nine mana ranks were categorized into lower, mid, and high ranks, with three distinct methods of breakthrough.

However, mana rank alone wasn't the sole determinant of strength. In the high ranks, both ability and mana rank played crucial roles, but among the lower ranks, skill disparities could allow individuals to overcome higher-ranked opponents.

For instance, a <Mid Silver>-rank could outmaneuver and defeat a <White >-rank with a significant difference in skill. The nuanced use of mana was equally vital; possessing copious amounts of mana and high output wasn't sufficient to claim the title of the strongest, as exemplified by the Martial God.

Blessed with a strong foundation in basic techniques, I recognized the need to focus on honing my arts. While the linking between different movements was faintly perceptible, it would take some time before it could be seamlessly applied in real combat situations.

A voice cut through the air, pulling me back to reality. "Impressive, Arthur," Rachel's voice echoed, breaking the concentration. She stood at a distance, her eyes keenly observing the display.

"Thanks," I replied, sheathing my sword, the residual aura dissipating. "I'm working on refining it further."

Rachel nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips, "You are going to get really strong in the future."

Our conversation was interrupted by Nero's voice announcing the end of the training session. 

My room became a sanctuary for the impending breakthrough. I lowered myself into a lotus position on the bed, preparing for the familiar surge of pain that accompanied a minor rank advancement. The air seemed to thicken as my mana core responded to the imminent change.

"Why does a simple breakthrough hurt so damn much?" I grumbled, attempting to distract myself from the building discomfort.

Inhaling deeply, I focused on regulating my mana's ebb and flow, each breath a deliberate effort to ease the internal turbulence. The silver glow of my mana core flickered, signaling the ongoing purification and absorption process.

The journey through ranks, from <Red > to <White >, are a relatively straightforward affair, centered on purifying the mana core. However, the transition to <Integration > marked a shift — a more complex dance involving the dissolution of the core and the assimilation of fragmented mana.

Advancing onto the higher ranks involved elevation of one's very being alongside absorption of mana. The person would then meet several 'walls' that they need to pass in order to successfully breakthrough.

The pain intensified, each surge feeling like a protest from every particle in my core. I couldn't help but question the logic behind such discomfort for a supposedly minor breakthrough.

This is why becoming a high rank pure mage is much harder than becoming a high rank warrior.

Slowly, my mana core purified and I advanced to <Mid Silver>-rank. A small ripple of mana erupted from my body, disturbing my surroundings.

'I wonder how much it would hurt to reach <White >-rank,' I thought as I felt the purer mana coursing through my veins.

I was stronger now.

But this was nothing more than the start.

_____________________________________________________________

As the days rolled on, the anticipation for the Freshman Ball buzzed through the academy corridors. Excited whispers and hushed giggles filled the air as the first-years prepared for the exclusive event.

Amid the eager crowd, a path naturally formed as a figure approached. Gasps of awe and wonder trailed behind her, creating a hushed symphony of admiration. Her silver hair cascaded gracefully down to her waist, framing a face adorned with striking blue crystalline eyes. The epithet 'Ice Wonder' seemed tailor-made for her.

Seraphina Zenith, the princess of Mount Hua, commanded attention with an icy grace. Her stoic expression remained unyielding as she navigated the sea of first-year gazes, her every step radiating an air of regality.

Unbeknownst to the enchanted freshmen, Seraphina's thoughts meandered elsewhere. She pondered the whereabouts of a certain individual amidst the revelry.

'I wonder what Arthur is doing?' Her finger grazed her bottom lip, inadvertently stirring the hormonal turmoil among the mesmerized teenagers. Despite her composed exterior, curiosity lingered within her, sparked by thoughts of Arthur Nightingale.

Arthur, a seemingly unremarkable Rank 8 in Class 1-A, didn't boast any exceptional background. Yet, Seraphina's heightened sensitivity to emotions, honed by the pressures of her noble lineage, detected an unusual desperation within him. A fervent drive to grow stronger, surpassing the ordinary aspirations of his peers.

Amidst this intensity, Seraphina sensed a peculiar familiarity in his eyes—a genuine fondness that transcended mere admiration. It perplexed her. Why him? What stirred this unassuming boy's genuine liking for her?

In Seraphina's experience, most gazes directed her way were tainted with either lust or ulterior motives. Countless encounters had etched this lesson into her consciousness, yet here she was, willingly treading the precarious path with Arthur.

Why did she choose to dance on that dangerous line once more? The answer eluded the innocent girl, lost in the enigma of her own feelings.

Her eyes fixated on the familiar cascade of obsidian hair, observing Arthur's intense workout. Sweat glistened on his brow, evidence of his dedicated efforts.

"Arthur," she called, a hint of emotion seeping into her voice.

"Sera!" Arthur turned, azure eyes meeting hers, a warm smile gracing his face. "What's up?"

"Come with me," Seraphina declared, seizing his hand and guiding him away, oblivious to the envy-laden glances from onlookers.

They found solace at a secluded cafe table, settling into the chairs.

"What's on your mind, Seraphina?" Arthur inquired, offering a reassuring squeeze to her hand, which caused her to release it in a flustered response.

"Go to the Freshman Ball with me," she said.