Rank 1: Enochia Adams — Special Entry — LVL 130
Rank 2: Damian Steele — Special Entry — LVL 125
Rank 3: Haruto Saito — 99 pt — LVL 124
Rank 4: Dragan Petrović — 95 pt — LVL 99
Rank 5: Damaris Magdalene — 94 pt — LVL 98
Rank 6: Nephara Justine — 92 pt — LVL 91
Rank 7: Ethan Cross — 91 pt — LVL 100
Rank 8: Isolde Crane — 90 pt — LVL 77
Rank 9: Ben Bob— 89 pt — LVL 89
Rank 10: Jackson Monroe — 89 pt — LVL 86
Rank 11: Gideon Strass — 88 pt — LVL 74
Rank 12: Seraphina Gracewell — 87 pt — LVL 95
Most of the class looked… satisfied, Enochia decided.
As she scanned the room, she could read it on their faces. The ones in the middle of the list had their shoulders a little looser, lips pressed into smug almost-smiles. Even Damian, of all people, seemed perfectly content with second place; he stared at his own name for a moment, then at hers, and actually nodded.
But something didn't add up.
'How the hell is the donor's kid Level 95???' Enochia thought, eyes narrowing on the very last line, 'And also somehow last?'
Her gaze shifted to Seraphina, who sat with her hands folded politely on her desk, pink twin-tails neat. Enochia's fingers twitched.
'Alright, let's see what your deal is.'
[Analysis]
A translucent window snapped into her vision.
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STATUS:
Name: Seraphina Gracewell
Title: The Lamb
Level: 95
EXP: 90,860 / 95,000
HP: 1,050
MANA: 1,470
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Title Effect — The Lamb
• All non-damaging abilities (healing, shielding, cleansing, buffs) have +100% effectiveness and –50% cooldowns.
• All damaging abilities have their total output halved, unable to critically strike.
• The users restorative miracles bypass normal medical limits, allowing them to restore lost limbs, heal fatal organ trauma, and even repair neurological and cognitive damage.
• When using such miracles, 50% of the restored pain is transferred to the users own body.
Enochia's eyes tried to exit her skull.
'Oh, come on.'
'A full limb-restoring, brain-fixing miracle battery stuck at rank twelve?' She stared at Seraphina, then at the "87 pt" on the board, then back at the girl again. 'What is this bullshit? How is she last?! If I had this thing in my raid parties I'd never let her be even close Beta.'
She blinked once more, and only then realized fewer and fewer students were actually looking at the ranking board. Heads were tilted, eyes were glowing faintly, little mana flickers popped in the air like static. Practically everyone was doing the exact same thing she was, scanning, appraising, peeking at each other's stat sheets instead of listening to Thaddeus.
And most of those looks were drifting to her.
A soft whistle came from somewhere in the back. Someone muttered, "Level 130, that's messed up…" Another voice, "Bro, she's broken, what the hell has she been killing?" Enochia pretended not to hear any of it, keeping her chin propped on her.
Damian, however, broke the silence in the back rows with a low laugh. "Impressive," he said, not at her, but angled slightly to somewhere in front of her. His golden eyes weren't on Enochia's name, but on Rank 3.
Haruto Saito sat in the first row, next to the porcelain doll of a girl whose expression had already gone back to emotionless. Up close, he looked exactly like the rumors, tall and lean, with sharp, clean features and black hair pulled back into a short, neat ponytail at the nape of his neck.
His unique green uniform was worn perfectly straight, not a wrinkle in sight, and his dark eyes held a quiet, focused calm. There was an eeriness about him, like his body was sitting in class but his mind was already somewhere else.
Out of nowhere, the chains started to rattle. At first it was just a little tremor, then they vibrated harder, links clinking together in a metallic stutter that signaled they were breaking.
Enochia was surprised. She hadn't meant to do anything, let alone dispel her ability. She was still leaning on her desk, chin propped on her palm, but the second Ethan's muffled shout hit the edge of her hearing: "Mmmff–bs! Mmmhf bshhht!"
… Something in her chest twitched in agreement.
'Exactly,' she thought. 'This whole thing is bullshit. The only thing they got right is putting me on top.'
The links slipped, drooped, and before she could reel them back, the brown haired boy did the rest himself.
He spat the metal out of his teeth and shook his head like a wet dog. "FINALLY." He sucked in air like a drowning man. "This is absolute BS!"
The classroom froze.
Enochia's eye twitched. '…TELLEM!'
Thaddeus slowly turned his head. "Mr. Ethan Cross," he said pleasantly. "I believe we discussed your volume yesterday."
Ethan, unfazed, thrust an arm toward the board. "I know, but cmon! This list makes no sense!"
Thaddeus sighed. "Is that so? Enlighten me, then. What, in all this divine order, offends you the most?"
Ethan stared at him like he was the crazy one. "Uh, for starters, me."
Someone in the back snorted.
"I should be higher," Ethan continued. "I'm level one hundred. One. Hundred. That should comfortably put me at, like…" he looked back up at the board and jabbed his finger toward the middle, "Number four, minimum."
A low, dangerous scoff rolled out from row three. "Huuuhh? Šta si to rekao!?"
Twelve heads snapped toward the voice.
Dragan didn't even bother sitting up straight. He turned slowly, shoulders rolling like he was warming up for a fight. He didn't say his name, and he didn't have to. Everyone could feel exactly which Rank 4 had just taken personal offense.
Up close, Dragan did not look like someone who belonged in a polished saint academy. His uniform technically followed regulations, as it was somewhat similar to the rest, same crest over the heart, same little Class Alpha patch. But he wore it like a tracksuit. Zipper half-open, collar loose, sleeves shoved up to his forearms, pants just a bit too baggy. His hair was a shaggy black and obviously unkept.
He eyed Ethan for three full seconds, then spoke. "Jebem ti majku!" he said conversationally. "I'll take you on right this second for that spot."
The air in the room tilted. A collective, perfectly synchronized "…what?"was heard coming from Class Alpha's shared soul.
Even Thaddeus, the acclaimed Apostle, looked momentarily stunned, as if Dragan had just cast a spell. Then, with the resigned sigh, he reached under his desk and pulled out a slim black booklet titled "Serbin: A Beginner's Guide."
He flipped through it, his visor dimming in horror. "W–wait, hold on—ai—good heavens—calm yourself!"
He snapped the book shut. "There will be no more of that!" he declared, pointing sharply at Dragan. "Otherwise you're dropping a rank purely for the filth coming out of your mouth, do you understand?"
Dragan shrugged, unimpressed, looking more proud than chastised. The slight lift of his chin suggested no regret.
Thaddeus exhaled, turned and raised a hand toward Ethan. "Good grief… Balkan people really have a way with cursing." His tone shifted from scandalized to instructional in the span of a breath. "Now then, Mr. Cross. As I wanted to say."
He tapped the board. "Levels only matter when two students have the same score. Look at Ben Bob and Jackson Monroe. Their scores tied; therefore, the higher level takes precedence. But all of you were evaluated based on far more than raw level."
Thaddeus began pacing slowly in front of the class. "Your ability examinations were judged along three primary axes. First: the direct usefulness of your ability to the people around you, which accounted for support, utility and adaptability. Second: the destructive potential or tactical application, and third: the written test, which most of people approached like it was optional."
A few students shifted uncomfortably.
"These three categories totaled ninety points. The last ten could only be earned by leaving a distinct, memorable impression on the judges, which you could have done by displaying creativity, initiative, or a unique spark that set you apart." He paused. "Your ranks reflect this full evaluation. They were distributed fairly. Thus, levels, while important, become secondary."
He clasped his hands behind his back. "In this facility, we focus not only on who you are now, but on what you can become. And most of you," his visor scanned the rows, "Possess remarkably similar potential."
Then, almost imperceptibly, his gaze lingered on Enochia. The slightest flicker of light crossed his visor, betraying the only exception in the room.
Thaddeus tapped the crystal board three times after that second.
"Now then." he said, "Ordinarily, in Minos Prime, there would be far more students. Hundreds, in fact. But Headmaster Matthew believed this approach was best. So we follow his model and focus directly on each individual."
He gestured around the room with a slow sweep of his arm. "This structure mirrors the hierarchy of the Twelve Apostles. The point of your rankings is not simply to compare you, but to prepare you. In the real world, Saints are measured, evaluated, and officially recorded. Every Saint has a rank."
The board flickered again, now displaying twelve silhouettes, tall, imposing figures with ornate halos of different designs. The top twelve Saints. The immortal icons students spent the last two years idolizing.
"Since that damn day," Thaddeus continued, "The top twelve have remained the top twelve. And our goal, the Academy's goal is to forge Saints capable of reaching that echelon. This is why your ranking matters. This is why competition matters. Over the next four years, every single month, you will be able to lose your position, as each Apostle could lose theirs."
"This ensures maximum competitiveness," Thaddeus said. "Only the strongest, the most adaptable, the most driven may stay in this classroom."
He rested a hand over the glowing emblem on his chest. "There was a time when I myself was ranked twelfth. A single misstep from being kicked out."
His visor tilted, expression unreadable. "And that, children, lit a fire under me. That pressure pushed me upward until I became tenth-ranked now, and I have no intention of stopping there."
The room fell silent for a moment. Damian practically vibrated. Dragan muttered something and even Ethan remained silent afterwards. Only Enochia, for some reason, had a complicated expression on her face.
Then a hand rose calmly in the first row. Everyone knew the boy attached to it even before Thaddeus nodded to him. Haruto Saito did not need introductions as he was probably the most infamous person in this room.
"Yes, Mr. Saito?" Thaddeus prompted.
Haruto lowered his hand, straightening a fraction in his seat. "Sir, may I ask… what are the privileges of being in Class Alpha? And more importantly, what incentives do we have to remain here?"
Thaddeus' visor glinted. The corners of his stance shifted ever so slightly, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask exactly that. "Ah. Yes. Theprivileges. Let me be perfectly clear: the advantages of Class Alpha are enormous. They are life-changing, and they exist to reward excellence."
"First." he continued, "Your required classroom attendance is only fifty percent. Only twelve students in this academy hold the right to skip half their school day without consequence, and it's you."
A wave of satisfied murmurs rippled through the room.
"Second: you may wear anything you please to campus so long as your Class Alpha badge is visible. Uniforms are for everyone else, besides you and some of class Beta." He gestured idly at Dragan's tracksuit-disguised uniform. "Some of you appear to have taken… creative liberties already."
Dragan smirked without apology.
"Third: you possess absolute priority access to every facility on this campus, such as training grounds, arenas, simulators, libraries, pools, halls and even dorm upgrades. No matter how far in advance any other class has booked a space, Alpha may override the reservation, provided you claim it at least one day beforehand."
The students reacted audibly at that, whispers turning into shocked chatter.
"Fourth," Thaddeus said, raising a finger, "Your activities will be recorded and broadcast on the Academy's main social media channel, which currently sits at over eight hundred million followers. Missions, tests, trials, if you choose, they will be livestreamed. Your reputations will begin forming from day one."
He let the magnitude of that settle before delivering the final blow.
"And lastly… each of you will receive a stipend of twenty thousand dollars per month simply for being members of Class Alpha and maintaining your academic standing."
Now at that, the room exploded. Ethan launched out of his seat so hard his chair skidded backward. "HELL YEAH!"
Dragan let out a long, piercing whistle, only to be immediately silenced when Thaddeus slowly turned his visor toward him, just daring him to say anything out of line again.
But Nephara? No such restraint. She slammed her palms on her desk and shouted, "FUCK. THE. HELL. YEAH!"
The class roared in agreement, several already calculating how many weapons, snacks, or gadgets twenty grand could buy, and amid the chaos, four people remained completely unfazed.
Enochia stayed slouched with her chin in her hand, not even blinking. Damian sat perfectly still, eyes focused on the board. Ben didn't move an inch, the bird on his head tilting curiously in place.
Haruto raised his hand again, but he didn't get far. Before Thaddeus could even acknowledge him, the girl sitting beside him reached over and forced his arm back down. Her midnight-black hair fell like a curtain as she leaned toward him, porcelain face expressionless.
"Remain quiet," she said softly. "Our living arrangements are satisfactory, and I will not let you ruin it."
Haruto blinked at her, caught so off-guard that for a moment the perfect composure cracked. The girl's eyes didn't blink, didn't shift, didn't even show any light. She stared directly into his soul with a stillness so unnatural it made the bird on Ben's head flatten itself like it was hiding from a predator.
Thaddeus sighed through his visor. "Miss Isolde, please have a seat. I am quite certain Mr. Haruto has a valid question."
Isolde's head turned mechanically back toward her desk, posture straightening with puppet-like movement. She didn't argue nor did she react really. She simply sat back down, though her unblinking stare remained locked on Haruto, pinning him into place like a butterfly on a board.
Haruto cleared his throat, shook the chill off his shoulders, and straightened. "As I was saying… sir," he began, "If the incentives for Class Alpha are this great, then what responsibilities are we expected to carry on campus?"
That single word—responsibilities—crushed the spirit of the class.
Teenagers who had been cheering like drunken hooligans two seconds ago now completely stopped. Even Ethan stopped vibrating. Someone in the back muttered, "Bro just said the R-word…" And somewhere else, barely audible, a voice added, "We're jumping him after school.".
"Well," Theaddeus said, "Besides surviving your classmates after this lesson, there are indeed a few responsibilities."
He tapped the board again, and a new set of glowing lines descended.
"For starters, there will be four minimum quotas you must fulfill. Unless you wish to lose your position."