Arthur stood in front of the machine as the second result echoed through the hall.
F Rank.
No class.
He did not need to look around to know what followed. He felt it imdiately. The invisible weight that had been pressing down on him only monts ago vanished, as if soone had quietly cut a rope. The expectations, the excitent, and the imagined future people had painted onto him all collapsed, not with anger or outrage, but with a soft, disappointing deflation, like a punctured balloon.
Arthur exhaled slowly.
He sensed the shift in the air even before anyone spoke. A heartbeat passed, then another, and that small pocket of silence told him everything. It was the kind that appeared when people were trying to understand sothing that didn’t make sense and failing.
Murmurs crept back into existence.
"What does that even an?"
"No class... how is that possible?"
"Maybe the machine is broken."
"He fought better than most of us."
"F rank makes no sense."
The whispers carried confusion rather than anger. There was no admiration, no praise, and no hatred. Just disbelief.
Arthur listened without turning around. He did not feel the urge to defend himself, because deep down he already knew the truth.
The machine wasn’t wrong.
It simply wasn’t asuring what made him dangerous.
This is how it looks from the outside, he thought.
An F-rank nobody.
The explorer in charge still looked unsettled, but confusion had its limits, and the world did not wait for clarity. One commander leaned back in his chair. The other clicked her tongue. The third commander waved a hand dismissively.
The eagerness that had existed monts earlier drained from their faces like water slipping through cracks.
"Rumors," one muttered.
"Exaggeration," another said.
"A fluke in the dungeon."
The third scoffed.
"If he really had talent, it would show."
Their words were not loud, and they did not need to be. Disinterest carried its own kind of cruelty.
Arthur felt no anger, no humiliation, and no rage.
Only understanding.
That’s how it works.
You are valuable only as long as sothing visible proves you are.
Once that proof disappears, so does interest.
The murmurs among the awakeners changed as well. So still looked confused. So appeared disappointed. Others looked awkward, as if embarrassed for having believed too much. A few avoided Arthur’s eyes entirely, and he didn’t mind.
The explorer in charge cleared his throat.
"Proceed with division selection."
His tone had returned to neutral. Professional. Distant. The warmth he had shown earlier was gone.
Arthur nodded.
No argunt. No complaints.
He did not want to remain in front of everyone any longer than necessary. This spotlight had beco uncomfortable, not because of sha, but because it was pointless.
I don’t depend solely on mana anyway.
Whatever they think doesn’t change what I can do.
If anything, the result settled sothing inside him. He had been worried that if his displayed strength and his talent didn’t match, attention would follow. Dangerous attention. Questions. Experints. Interest from the wrong people.
Now?
They had written him off as a useless anomaly.
And that was fine.
Better than being dissected. Better than being watched too closely.
Arthur stepped toward the selection device.
The sa thod as before.
A small crystal sphere floated above a pedestal, and inside it faint shifting symbols constantly rearranged themselves. Each symbol represented a division. Touching the sphere would cause one symbol to solidify.
Arthur placed his hand on its surface.
The crystal flashed once.
A single symbol glowed.
The explorer glanced at it and announced without ceremony, "Fourth Division."
A faint ripple passed through the hall.
That was the sa division that had taken the B-rank Elentalist earlier. The sa commander who had been boasting about his luck.
That commander, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running across his jaw, did not even look at Arthur. He remained leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, as if nothing had happened.
One of the other commanders snorted.
"Well, looks like your division got him too."
Another smirked.
"Lucky you. You were bragging about collecting talents earlier."
The Fourth Division commander finally moved.
He glanced at Arthur.
Once.
His eyes swept over Arthur’s body in a shallow scan, and then he looked away.
"Why would I want him?" he said flatly.
An uncomfortable silence followed.
"He’s F rank."
"No class."
"An anomaly with no future."
He waved a hand.
"You can keep him."
The commander who had spoken earlier frowned.
"You don’t get to pick and choose once the division is assigned."
The Third Division commander scoffed.
"Then take him yourself."
Another commander chuckled.
"Weren’t you so proud of getting the B rank earlier?"
"That was a real talent," the Third Division commander replied. "This one isn’t."
He looked at Arthur again, this ti with faint disgust.
"I don’t need trash dragging down my squads."
The words were calm, not shouted, and not aggressive.
Which made them worse.
Arthur felt a faint tightening in his chest, not from pain or anger, but from awareness.
This was his place in their eyes.
He did not clench his fists. He did not glare.
He simply stood.
Because he had learned long ago that reacting only gave people satisfaction.
The Third Division commander turned slightly toward the explorer.
"Reassign him."
The explorer hesitated.
Before he could respond..
The doors to the assessnt hall slamd open.
The sound was loud and sharp, cutting through the murmurs like a blade through cloth.
Every head turned.
A female voice echoed across the hall.
"I’ll take him."
The voice was calm and confident, unhurried in its delivery, yet it carried weight because it carried presence.
Arthur turned with everyone else.
As they noticed the woman that stood at the entrance.
She was tall, slender, and perfectly proportioned, with long hair that flowed down her back like liquid silk, a rare deep silver-violet that shimred under the hall’s lighting.
A/N:
Please, Im sorry if the F rank disappoints you. My whole objective is about climbing to the top. And this makes the climb more aningful.
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