By morning, the city was awake. But Ironclad City High had changed overnight. The rumour of a Rank-E subduing a rogue beast without a contract spread like wildfire, carried by students whispering in hallways, leaning out windows, and passing notes between classes.
"Did you see him?" a Rank-C student whispered, wide-eyed.
"He… he calmed a beast. No glyphs, no mana—nothing."
"Impossible. It has to be a trick."
Kael moved quietly through the hallways, mop in hand, auxiliary duties his only shield. He ignored the stares, the whispers, and the disbelief that hung in the air like fog. Rank-E was supposed to be irrelevant, invisible—but now everyone was looking at him, some with fear, most with doubt.
He didn't feel powerful. Not yet.
Inside him, the pressure throbbed, persistent and patient. It wasn't like a beast's power; it didn't roar or blaze. It was calm. Heavy. Controlled. Waiting. A part of him, yes—but somehow separate. Something alive and ancient, recognising its surroundings, evaluating its host, and waiting for its moment.
Kael clenched his fists.
What are you? He whispered.
No answer came—not in words, not in light, not in notifications. Only a faint hum, barely perceptible, pulsing against his chest.
The faculty tower was abuzz. Instructors, high-ranking students, and ranking authorities convened behind closed doors. Screens projected anomalies, system readouts, and live feeds from the training grounds.
"Rank-E," one instructor said, adjusting his glasses, voice low. "The system… didn't detect any activity. No authority glyphs. No mana signature. No bonding process. Nothing at all."
"Which is exactly why it's dangerous," another replied. Her fingers drummed on the console. "The system only accounts for registered contracts and authority streams. If a human bypasses it…" She trailed off, expression dark.
A golden light flared briefly from one console—a hidden, restricted system interface.
[Unregistered Authority Detected]
Classification: Unknown
Location: Auxiliary Wing, Ironclad City High
The chamber went silent.
Threat Level: Undetermined
No one spoke. The warning alone was enough. The system had never failed before. Never overlooked a human, never misread authority, never allowed a Rank-E to touch a rogue beast without consequence.
And yet… it had.
Kael returned to the auxiliary wing. The night had been long, and the system's gaze—though indirect—was already upon him. He felt it. The subtle tension of eyes observing from far above and the whisper of sensors and measurements that he could neither see nor access.
The Sovereign Interface hovered faintly at the edge of his vision. Its symbols glimmered in black and silver, unregistered, unacknowledged by the city's systems.
Authority Path Unlocked
Recognition Threshold: Pending
Kael exhaled slowly. He didn't understand half of what he was seeing. The interface spoke in no words, no instructions, and no confirmations. Only presence. Only potential. Only the reminder that the world's rules didn't apply to him.
He remembered Awakening Day. Rank-E. No beast. The laughter. The shame. The invisible weight of everyone judging him without knowing what was coming.
Now, that same weight had changed. The whispers were different. The stares carried unease, not mockery. They had seen, and deep down, they knew something had shifted.
By midday, Kael had resumed his auxiliary tasks, but the campus no longer felt normal. Every glance, every whisper seemed amplified. Every step carried the unspoken question: Who is this Rank-E, and why did the system fail him?
Students passed in groups, eyes flicking toward him, some daring to stare, others turning away quickly. The city measured power, yes—but it had missed him. And that absence was louder than any roar.
Kael stopped at a hallway corner, leaning against the wall. He didn't need a system panel to know the truth: the city didn't see him, but the pressure inside did. That entity, that voice, that authority… it was awake. Observant. And patient.
It's not time yet, Kael thought.
But instinct told him it would be soon.
Later that evening, Kael ventured outside the auxiliary wing. The campus was quiet, lit only by scattered torches and the faint luminescence of the Ironclad City skyline.
A soft breeze carried the scent of metal and ozone. Kael felt the pressure stir again, this time sharper, more deliberate. The Sovereign Interface pulsed faintly, prompting, guiding, reminding.
Directive Available
Kael's heart raced. He didn't know what the directive would demand. No beast, no system, no rank—but authority didn't require permission. Authority required recognition.
He stepped forward, breathing steadily but with sharp eyes. The city below, the campus above, the unseen eyes of instructors and system monitors—none mattered. Only the presence within him did.
It pulsed again, insistent. A moment of choice, quiet but absolute.
Kael exhaled.
If they can't see me… then I'll show them in a way they will never forget.
He didn't shout. He didn't summon fire, nor command beasts. He simply moved, letting the pressure flow. The air shifted, subtle but undeniable. A faint vibration, barely perceptible, ran through the ground beneath the city.
Somewhere, a monitor glitched. A ranking panel flickered. A system console stuttered.
The city had eyes everywhere. Yet it had missed him.
Kael closed his eyes. The night was silent.
And for the first time, he smiled—not for the students, not for the instructors, not for the system.
He smiled because he knew the truth: the world ranked power by beasts… but he didn't need one.
He had authority.