Weeks later…The noise about the leaderboard had finally begun to fade. Fewer whispers followed Jiwoo through the halls now—though sometimes he still caught a glance, a half-smile, a quiet whisper of "that's the E-rank brother."
He didn't care much anymore.
His focus was back where it belonged: training.
The morning light cut across the Combat Field, where the first-years gathered for their weekly combat exercise.
Instructor Baek stood at the edge of the field, his expression unusually neutral.
"All right," he said, voice carrying easily across the open air.
"Today will be different. No drills. No formations."
A ripple of confusion went through the crowd. Baek folded his arms.
"Today, we're changing the pace. No drills, no formations. Instead—Combat Class A versus Combat Class B. One round each."
Excitement burst instantly among the students.
"Wait, interclass sparring already?"
"Man, this is gonna be good."
"Hope I don't get paired with someone crazy…"
Baek raised a hand, silencing them. "Pairings will be random," he said.
"And one special match to close the day."
The students exchanged glances. Everyone could feel it — that quiet sense that something was coming.
Minjae whispered, "If he says your name, I'll gonna start praying for you."
He looked toward Jiwoo briefly before continuing, "Let's see what happens when ranks stop mattering."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Baek's mouth — quick, almost invisible, but Minjae caught it.
Minjae elbowed Jiwoo lightly. "Uh-oh. He looked right at you. And he smiled. That's not a good sign."
Jiwoo frowned. "Why?"
"Because that's the same face he made before destroying that mana dummy last week," Minjae whispered dramatically. "Dude, I think you're the dummy this time."
Jiwoo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You talk too much."
"I cope with humor," Minjae said, straight-faced. "You cope with trauma. We all have our methods. I wish you a good luck man, don't die too young."
A few nearby students snickered, the tension in the air breaking just slightly — but Baek's sharp glare silenced them again almost instantly.
The matches rolled by quickly—students clashing, cheering, tripping over their own mana control.
By late morning, the air was hot with energy, the scent of sweat and ozone hanging heavy.
Then Baek called out the final match.
"Han Jiwoo," he said, his tone calm but deliberate.
"Your opponent—Kang Jisoo."
A murmur rippled across both sides of the field.
"Kang Jisoo? Wait, isn't that—"
"The younger brother of Kang Hyunwoo?"
"The top 1's little brother?"
"And he's an S-rank too?"
"E-rank versus S-rank? That's brutal."
Jiwoo walked to the center of the field without reacting. His steps were quiet, steady.
Across from him, Kang Jisoo approached with his practice sword in hand—a sleek wooden blade that gleamed faintly with reinforcement mana. His dark hair was tied back, his stance sharp, confident.
For a moment, their eyes met.
"Long time no see," Jisoo said, voice cool but edged.
Jiwoo blinked. "Do I… know you?"
That made Jisoo's smile twitch."You don't remember?" His grip on the sword tightened slightly. "Kendo tournaments. Seoul Youth Division. You beat me. Every. Single. Time."
Jiwoo tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing. "Oh."
"Oh? That's it?" Jisoo snapped, irritation flashing in his tone.
"You made me chase your shadow for two years, and all you can say is oh?"
Baek's voice cut in before Jiwoo could reply.
"Begin."
The first clash came in an instant.
Jisoo moved first—fast, clean, every motion honed by hours of training. His blade carved through the air like lightning, pressure exploding around them as his S-rank mana surged.
Jiwoo blocked.
The sound cracked like thunder, air shuddering around them.
"Still using kendo forms," Jisoo said between strikes, his tone half-taunt, half-breathless. "You're predictable."
Jiwoo's calm eyes didn't waver. "And yet, you still haven't landed a hit."
Jisoo gritted his teeth and pushed harder, mana flaring brighter around his sword. The ground trembled under each step, his strikes blurring into arcs of raw force.
The students around the field gasped, voices rising.
"Holy crap, that's S-rank power—"
"Jiwoo's done for!"
"Wait, he's blocking all that?!"
Baek's eyes narrowed slightly. He could see it—the faint distortion around Jiwoo's blade, mana bending unnaturally against each strike, like the air itself resisted Jisoo's force.
Jisoo drew back, panting slightly, and smirked. "You're better than I thought, E-rank."
"I told you," Jiwoo said quietly, lowering his stance, "rank doesn't matter."
Then he moved.
No flash, no mana burst—just clean, terrifying speed.
His wooden sword struck once—just once—and the impact sent Jisoo skidding back, dust erupting around his boots.
Gasps rippled through the field.
"What—what was that?!"
"Did anyone even see him move?"
"He didn't use mana, right?"
Jisoo staggered, his grin fading. For a moment, confusion crossed his eyes.
"That… wasn't mana," he muttered under his breath. "That felt—wrong."
Baek's expression hardened. Soomin, watching from the stands, leaned forward slightly. The faint flicker of void distortion shimmered around Jiwoo's sword again—barely visible, but undeniable.
Jiwoo straightened, calm as ever. "Are we done?"
Jisoo clenched his jaw, his pride catching fire. "Not yet."
*** Kang Jisoo's POV ***
'E-rank, my ass,' Jisoo thought, teeth grinding as he steadied his stance.
'I haven't beaten him once in kendo. And now… even as an S-rank, I still can't read his movements.'
The humiliation burned deeper than any wound.
He raised his sword again, mana blazing hot.
"Fine," he said, voice sharp. "Then I'll make you remember me—"
But before he could finish, Baek's voice cut through the tension.
"That's enough."
The field fell silent. Baek stepped forward, eyes sweeping between them.
"Match over."
A stunned silence fell over the crowd — the kind that only came when something didn't make sense.
Then came the whispers — disbelieving, electric.
"He—he won?"
"No way, right?"
"But he didn't even use mana…"
Jisoo lowered his weapon, frustration simmering behind his calm facade. Jiwoo simply bowed slightly, respectful, and stepped back without a word.
As he walked off the field, the whispers that had once followed him — "E-rank," "top 2's brother," didn't sound quite the same anymore.
Someone from the side muttered, half in disbelief, "He didn't even use mana…"Another said quietly, "Did you see that timing? That stance? He read every strike."
"An E-rank, huh?" a third voice added. "Not buying it anymore."
By the time Jiwoo rejoined the Combat Division's line, the looks that met him were different — not mocking, not doubtful, but curious. Respectful.
A boy from his group, who had once snickered during their first drills, scratched his head awkwardly. "Hey… that was insane, man. You were just— calm. Like you already knew what he'd do."
Another girl chimed in, smiling a little. "I didn't even see your footwork. You're… really good, Jiwoo."
Even the loudmouth from the back who had once joked about "the E-rank brother" nodded once, muttering, "Guess rank doesn't mean much after all."
And some of the other students too.
"S-rank and couldn't touch him?"
"What kind of training does an E-rank do?"
"Maybe the Han family's just built different."
Minjae leaned close, grinning. "Well, look at that. You just shut up half the academy without saying a word."
Jiwoo exhaled slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Good. Maybe now they'll stop talking."
"Not a chance," Minjae said, smirking. "They'll just talk about how you did it."
A ripple of laughter spread quietly through the nearby students — genuine, not scornful this time.
Even Baek, watching from the side, allowed himself a small smirk. "Not bad, Han Jiwoo," he muttered under his breath.
Jisoo, still standing near the ring, stared at his hands — then at Jiwoo's calm figure across the field. The faint pulse of violet light he'd seen earlier burned in his mind."…You've changed," he whispered, almost grudgingly.
For the first time that day, admiration outweighed disbelief.
The class bell rang, echoing across the field.
And as the students began to file out — still murmuring, still glancing back — Jiwoo caught the faintest shift in the air: a mix of respect and wariness.
He wasn't just the E-rank anymore. He was the one who made even an S-rank take a step back.
***
From the faculty platform, Soomin crossed her arms. "Guess the E-rank rumor doesn't hold much water anymore."
Baek's eyes followed Jiwoo's quiet retreat across the field. He smirked faintly. "No," he said, half to himself. "But I think we're only seeing the surface."
And somewhere on the upper balconies, Kang Hyunwoo — the academy's top rank — watched the match replay through his cellphone, eyes narrowing slightly.
His brother lost.
To an E-rank.
He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Han Jiwoo, huh… maybe he's much interesting than his sister."