Chapter 54: Rank One, Red

Chapter 54: Rank One, Red

Someone had pasted the competition notice over the dining hall menu.

Silas leaned around a pair of arguing students, trying to see what was underneath. He had missed breakfast, his forearm ached from Returning Edge practice, and the only visible part of the menu promised boiled vegetables.

"The full notice is on the network," Alden said beside him.

"Does it say what they’re serving?" Silas asked.

Alden gave him a look, then pointed to a smaller board near the entrance. Silas was turning toward it when the heading on the poster caught his eye.

First-Year Combat Rankings.

He stopped.

Gold lettering framed the academy crest. Below it, a pair of crossed practice swords separated the dates from the registration instructions. The traditional competition marking two months of the freshman year would begin in a little over two weeks.

Silas read the date again.

Behind him, someone was laughing about a roommate who had already spent the first-place prize in his head. A girl squeezed past with three folded flyers under her arm, apologizing when one brushed his sleeve.

He barely moved aside.

He remembered this event.

On a screen, the crowds outside Crownless had been background scenery. Then the gate appeared, and suddenly the camera was close enough to show people falling over each other as they tried to run.

Rank One. Red.

Silas’s fingers tightened around the strap of his training bag.

"Are you entering?" Alden asked.

"I haven’t decided." Silas made himself loosen his grip. "You?"

"I’m going to try." Alden was reading the rewards. "Even one of the lower resource allotments would help."

Practical qualifiers first, then supervised individual duels. The results would set the freshman combat rankings across every class. Prize money and cultivation resources grew with placement, and the largest awards went to the top finishers.

Yesterday, Silas would have been doing exactly the same arithmetic.

"You’d have to fight Star Class students eventually," he said.

Alden shrugged. "If I get far enough for that to be a problem, I’ll be pleased."

Silas looked at Alden’s hopeful face, then back at the date.

"Come on," Silas said. "I need food."

He took a flyer on the way in.

At home, Silas laid the flyer on his desk and smoothed out the fold with his thumb.

Nim was asleep on the pillow. One of his feathers had fallen beside the bed, and Silas picked it up before pulling out his chair.

The academy had contained the disaster after the first deaths. He remembered that much clearly. Its instructors had secured the area, but the gate had refused entry to anyone above Rank One. No more than ten people could go in.

He could stay in his room when it happened. Silas looked at the secured door and held on to that thought.

Then he remembered the reward.

[Super Regeneration — S Rank.]

Silas sat back.

He had seen that entry on Alden’s character page after the dungeon. A Trait, acquired through a trial rather than born with him. Treasures could grant them too. Their effects were fixed; a Talent’s abilities grew stronger with cultivation.

His hand settled against his side. He could still remember trying to breathe with Lydia in the room, knowing that one more clean strike might finish him. Recovering here had helped keep him alive. He couldn’t carry this room through a gate.

But I could carry that.

His eyes drifted to the desk drawer.

Maelin’s pencil was inside, waiting to be returned.

He remembered another part of the dungeon then. Her name in the aftermath, on the list of the dead. Different choices changed who else made it out. He couldn’t remember a single playthrough where she walked back through that gate.

Silas opened the drawer. The pencil lay across his spare notes, its point worn down from use at his table.

He reached for his communicator, then stopped. Maelin was probably going about her ordinary day.

What would I even say?

He shut the drawer and pulled a blank sheet toward him.

He wrote down how much time remained, then listed the abilities he could use outside his door.

The list was short enough to leave most of the page empty.

Spirit Communion wouldn’t be ready.

Yesterday’s lesson had brought him to eight percent. His compatibility was poor; even with Elyra’s help, he struggled to recognize impressions that came easily to her. Without Nim’s bond to practice through, he doubted he’d have reached this much.

Perhaps five or six recordings in all, if his understanding improved. Even that estimate put completion well past the competition.

He glanced at the bed. Nim had woken and was watching the feather in his hand.

"Here," Silas said, handing it back.

Nim tucked it under a paw and closed his eyes again.

Silas left the spirit to rest. He needed his only slot for something he could master sooner.

He opened the student tutoring board.

Tobin Hale’s advertisement was almost aggressively plain.

Foundational mana theory. Written examination preparation. Individual sessions available.

His verified marks sat near the top of the first-year listings. His student profile also named a C-Rank Talent: Split Focus.

Silas opened that part first.

The short description concerned keeping attention on separate tasks at once. He thought of Renn correcting his feet while he tried to guide a blade with Remote Grasp. Add a concealed weapon to that, and he could easily imagine stabbing exactly the right target while walking straight into someone else’s sword.

He went back to the advertisement and requested one session at his residence.

Tobin’s first reply offered a library table instead.

Silas explained that he preferred his own room after physical training and would pay extra for the walk. There was a longer pause before Tobin agreed, with the fee due before the lesson started.

Fair enough.

Silas arranged his theory notes on the desk. They contained enough genuine gaps that he wouldn’t need to pretend.

Shortly before the appointed time, he opened his Talent interface.

[Spirit Communion — Release temporary recording?]

He confirmed.

[Assimilation preserved: 8%.]

The faint spiritual sensitivity drained away. On the bed, Nim lifted his head when Silas said his name, then complained that he had nearly been asleep.

Silas apologized and asked him not to talk during the visit. Nim rolled over, displaying very little interest in the guest.

Tobin arrived carrying a battered document case. He was a narrow-faced boy with an ink stain along one finger, and he checked the room number before he looked at Silas.

"One hour," Tobin said. "That’s what we agreed."

"Yes. Come in," Silas said.

The boy stepped over the threshold, keeping his case close. Silas’s private appraisal opened.

[Soul Talent: Split Focus.]

[Rank: C.]

He selected the recording while stepping aside to let Tobin reach the desk.

[Split Focus — Temporary recording established.]

[Assimilation: 0%.]

[Duration: 7 days.]

Tobin stayed standing beside the chair.

"The payment," he said.

Silas made the transfer on his communicator. Tobin checked his own device, and only then did he set his case down.

Tobin’s shoulders stayed stiff as he laid out his papers. Extortion and a dead cousin: whatever the academy had ruled, Silas understood why the boy wanted payment upfront.

"These are the parts I’m struggling with," Silas said, sliding his notes across.

Tobin read them without a word. His finger stopped beside a calculation.

"Did you miss the explanation for this?" Tobin asked.

"Possibly," Silas said. "I missed quite a few explanations."

"You’ve treated the entire recovered amount as available for refinement." Tobin drew a line under the figure. "The question gives you the circulation loss here. You have to account for it first."

Silas leaned in. "Even after the current has stabilized?"

"It’s still passing through your channels," Tobin said. "Stable doesn’t mean nothing is lost."

The correction was irritatingly obvious once someone pointed it out. Silas crossed out his answer and worked through it again.

By the third problem, Tobin had stopped glancing at the door. He interrupted twice when Silas tried to skip a step, and Silas found himself listening properly, even though he had already got what he invited the boy here for.

When the hour ended, Tobin left three practice questions and packed his case.

"Send a request through the board if you want another session," he said.

"I will. Thank you," Silas said.

After closing the door, Silas went back to the desk. There wouldn’t be a second lesson for now. He had seven days to make the copied Talent his own.

He picked up his pen, then lifted a small scrap of paper with Remote Grasp. Holding it steady while he solved Tobin’s first question seemed like a reasonable place to start.

The scrap dropped the moment he reached the second line.

Silas looked from the paper to the calculation, set down the pen, and called up Split Focus.

This time, he started with one number.