Chapter 36: The Ranking Board

Astrid

Moonshade felt entirely different the next morning, students gathered around the ranking board in nervous clusters, seniors treating the whole thing with the casual indifference of experience, first-years looking like they might be sick before the day even started.

Ivy stared at the board like it had personally threatened her. "I don’t like this."

"You haven’t even started," I said.

"That’s exactly why I don’t like it."

She explained the system as we walked, weaving between clusters of anxious first-years crowding the corridor outside the main hall. Points came from academic performance, combat, practical skills, teamwork, special assignments, general academy activities. And losing points was just as possible as gaining them.

"So if you perform badly..." I started, already anticipating the answer.

She grimaced. "Your ranking drops."

I looked at the board again. Everything measurable. Everything with a clear, visible result.

I liked that more than I expected to.

Reed and Xander’s names sat near the top, practically permanent fixtures.

"Those two practically live on that board," Ivy said.

Xander overheard, grinning. "Jealous?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you two actually care about ranking?" I asked.

"It affects which advanced courses we can access," Reed said.

"And it’s satisfying watching everyone else suffer," Xander added.

"That’s not the point," Reed said.

"It’s a very good point."

I laughed.

The first assessment wasn’t physical. Groups were given a simulated pack emergency and a limited window to respond, the instructor watching from the sidelines with a clipboard, offering no hints. I realized quickly the exercise wasn’t testing strength at all. It was testing decisions under pressure.

Several students immediately started arguing over strategy. I watched for a moment before speaking up.

"We’re doing this wrong," I said.

One of them scoffed. "And you know better?"

I explained calmly, redistributing our resources, reordering our actions in a sequence that actually made sense given the constraints we’d been handed. The group followed, reluctantly at first, and we completed the simulation cleanly. The instructor awarded us points.

I didn’t celebrate. I was simply satisfied.

Reed found me afterward. "You noticed the resource problem before anyone else."

"It was obvious."

"It wasn’t."

I looked at him. "You’re saying I’m smart?"

"I’m saying you were right."

I smiled. "That’s basically a compliment from you."

A small, rare smile crossed his face. "Take it however you want."

Combat assessments came next, and this was where my missing wolf actually mattered. The instructor reminded everyone that a wolf offered an advantage, not a guarantee, pacing along the edge of the sparring ring while students stretched and eyed their opponents.

I got paired against a much larger student, who looked at me and smiled. "You’re unfortunate."

"Why?"

"Because you’re fighting me."

"You should be more worried about fighting me," I said.

He relied entirely on strength, throwing his full weight behind every strike like brute force alone would settle it. I relied on timing, letting him overcommit before taking him down clean. The class reacted, and the instructor awarded me points.

He looked embarrassed, muttering something about luck under his breath as he retreated toward the edge of the ring.

"If it makes you feel better, call it luck," I said, unbothered.

Xander laughed from the sidelines. "I like her."

I turned toward him. "You say that like you didn’t already."

He froze for half a second, then grinned. "I walked into that one."

Reed watched the exchange without a word, though I caught him listening closely.

Throughout the rest of the assessments, I noticed both twins kept appearing wherever I happened to be competing, drifting between events like it was nothing unusual, though I was fairly sure it wasn’t a coincidence at all, given how consistently their paths crossed mine. Not obviously, but consistently. Xander cheered whenever I did something impressive. Reed stayed quiet, though nothing ever seemed to slip past him.

"Why are you watching me?" I asked Xander eventually, tired of pretending I hadn’t noticed the pattern all afternoon.

"Because you’re interesting," he said, entirely casual.

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one you’re getting."

I rolled my eyes, though the comment stayed with me longer than I wanted to admit.

By the end of the day, the board updated, students crowding in immediately to check their standing, some cheering, some groaning at numbers that had barely moved despite hours of effort. I searched for my name and found it had jumped significantly, not near the top, but far enough to surprise even me.

Ivy shouted my name, delighted.

I stared at the number for a moment, genuinely not expecting that much movement.

"Not bad," Reed said, appearing behind me.

"Not bad? She just jumped half the board!" Xander said.

"I said not bad."

"You could say congratulations."

Reed looked at me. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," I said, smiling.

It was such a small moment, but knowing they were actually proud settled warm somewhere in my chest.

Xander studied the board a moment longer, then glanced at his brother. "She’s coming for your ranking."

Reed looked at me. "Good."

"Good?" I echoed.

"You should."

That caught me completely off guard. Instead of feeling threatened by my progress, he seemed to actually want it, like watching me improve mattered more to him than protecting his own place on the board.

"Careful," Xander said, grinning. "You’re going to make him proud."

"I think he’s incapable of being proud," I said.

"You’re testing that theory," Reed said.

The instructors announced before we left that tomorrow’s assessment would be considerably harder, and unlike today, students would compete in teams, compositions determined partly by current rankings. A murmur ran through the crowd immediately, students already speculating about who might end up paired with whom.

I looked at the board, then at Reed, then at Xander, the three of us standing there together while the last of the crowd thinned out around us.

"Looks like things just got interesting," Xander said, smiling.

"Why?" I asked, folding my arms.

He pointed toward the board. "Because if you keep climbing like this," he glanced toward Reed, then back at me, "you might end up competing against us."

I smiled. "Maybe that’s exactly what I’m planning."

Something shifted in Reed’s expression, not worry, something closer to genuine interest. "Then don’t hold back."

I looked at the ranking board one last time before we left.

Yesterday, my name had barely registered to anyone.

Today, people had started noticing it.

And tomorrow, I intended to make absolutely sure they couldn’t ignore it, no matter who I ended up standing across from when the teams were finally announced.