Chapter 44| Rankings

Chapter 44: Chapter 44| Rankings

Zane woke up at 7:00 AM.

Not from an alarm. Just the specific wakefulness of a body that had been through something and spent the night processing it and was done before anything else suggested it should be.

He lay on his back for thirty seconds.

Ribs still talking. Less loudly than last night. Stacy Reed’s work holding up the way A-rank healing held up.

He sat up.

Dex was already at his desk eating instant noodles. Laptop open. Gerald wheezed.

Zane picked up his communicator from the desk.

One unread message — school principal, still unopened from last night. He’d get to that.

But First rankings.

He opened the academy’s internal network. Found the trial results page. Watched it load.

Forty two students. The full bracket from Round One through the final result posted at the top.

He scrolled to his name.

007 — CALLOWAY, ZANE — Placed: 11th

He stared at it.

Eleventh.

’Out of forty two,’ he thought. ’Regardless of the number. A student labelled Sigilless just won two matches and made it to Round Three. That means something whether the bracket reflects it or not.’

Not top three. No suite on the third floor. No NSA stipend. No private training facilities. Sadly he didn’t make it so he would have to forfeit these benefits.

But placing eleventh. From a bracket that had started with nobody expecting him to survive Round One was definitely a miracle.

He put the communicator down.

Dex looked over from his desk. He’d clearly already checked.

"You placed Eleventh," Dex said.

"Yeah I’ve checked already," Zane confirmed.

"You know what that means," Dex said.

"It means I placed eleventh," Zane said.

"It means you" Dex pointed his chopsticks at him "A Sigilless, unregistered, charity admission student placed eleventh in the first year rank trials against forty one students who actually have registered Sigils." He shook his head slowly. "That is not a small thing."

"I know," Zane said.’This is dex trying to motivate me’

"Ryan placed fourth," Dex added. "Just so you know."

Zane looked at the ceiling.

’Fourth,’ he thought. ’Damn. Out of all people.’ He almost laughed at the ceiling. ’Like they say. The sun always shines on the same dog’s back. Some people were just born landing on their feet.’ At least he didn’t get first three. He smirked.

’My file on him still stays open.’ Zane muttered.

He opened the principal’s message.

Calloway, Zane — Please report to the principal’s office at your earliest convenience today. There are few matters arising from your trial performance that require discussion.

He read it twice.

’Matters arising from your trial performance,’ he thought.

He pocketed his communicator and stood up.

"Going somewhere?" Dex said.

"Principal’s office," Zane said.

Dex looked at him. "Already?"

"He said come at my earliest convenience," Zane said. "Apparently that’s now."

He pulled on his jacket and headed out.

The seventh floor corridor was different this morning.

Not dramatically. Just the specific social weather change that happened when a story had been told in front of every student in the building simultaneously and the room had already decided what it meant.

A student from the combined theory sessions nodded at him as he passed. Not performing civility. Just acknowledged him. Like a person.

Two more near the stairwell did the same.

He reached Ryan’s corridor junction.

Ryan was there. Alone. Moving the opposite direction.

Their eyes met.

Three seconds.

Something in Ryan’s expression that wasn’t the social campaign energy or the recalibrated neutrality from before. Something new. Something that didn’t have a category yet.

He nodded once.

Kept walking.

Zane watched him go.

Fourth place,’ he thought. ’Did he just nod at me or was it a fluke.’ I’d expected reactions but this was unforeseen.

He kept moving.

The principal’s office was located on the third floor of the academic block. A separate building from the dormitory, connected to the main building by the covered walkway that ran along the north face of the campus. Third floor, east end, the kind of office that had been deliberately positioned far enough from the student areas to feel institutional without being inaccessible.

Zane knocked.

"Come in."

Principal Harrow was a tall man in his late fifties with the posture of someone who had spent decades in institutions and stopped noticing it. He gestured at the chair across his desk without looking up.

Zane sat.

Harrow set down his document. Looked at him directly.

"Calloway," he said. "Congrats on your eleventh place."

"Thanks sir," Zane replied.

"So without wasting time let’s cut to the chase. You were enrolled at this academy as a Sigilless student under the Second Generation Initiative," Harrow said. "Your registration file lists no Sigil classification. No rank assessment. No projected awakening timeline." He held Zane’s gaze steadily. "And yet you walked onto an arena floor and produced contact-based output that put a B-rank Flashstep student on the ground. Twice. Then advanced to Round Three against a B-rank Pressure Wave student and made him work harder than he worked all day."

Zane said nothing. Just stared at the principal looking at his bright yellow coloured suit he wore.

"The NSA has been in contact," Harrow said. "They want an updated classification assessment. Formal. Documented." He folded his hands on the desk. "Which means at some point in the near future you are going to need to give this institution a more accurate account of your Sigil status than what is currently on your registration file."

Zane looked at the desk.

’The NSA,’ he thought. ’Of course.’

"I understand," Zane said.

"I’m not asking for that account today," Harrow said. "I’m telling you it’s coming. So you have time to decide what you want to say." He picked up his document again. "That’s all. You placed eleventh. Whatever you’re carrying it’s real. The institution recognises that."

He went back to reading.

Zane stood up. Moved toward the door.

"Calloway," Harrow said without looking up.

Zane stopped.

"Your father placed second in his first year trials," Harrow said. "And there were a lot of competitive prodigies during his time. Far more than what I’m seeing today. You lot have gone soft." He almost smiled. "But don’t worry. That’s exactly why we’re here. To put you back in shape."

Zane stood in the doorway for a moment."Thanks for your kind words sir I appreciate". He said.

Then walked out.

He was halfway back to the main building when the system surfaced.

『 System Note: NSA classification assessment incoming. Timeline unknown. Recommend establishing Bound Target bonds before external scrutiny increases. Expanded carry limit and improved output will be necessary if the system’s existence becomes subject to institutional inquiry. 』

’So the clock just got shorter,’ Zane thought.

『 The clock was always running. It is simply more visible now. 』

Gerald wheezed when he got back to room 714.

Dex looked up from his laptop.

"How was the principal," Dex said.

"Informative," Zane replied.

He sat on his bed and checked the time on his communicator.

7:42 AM.

It was still early. He’d gone to see the principal in his normal clothes — jacket, casual wear, whatever he’d grabbed when Dex and Torre picked him up from the infirmary last night. He looked at the training gear folded on the chair beside his desk.

He stood up. Grabbed it. Headed to the bathroom to change.

Three minutes later he was back in the room properly dressed. Bag over one shoulder.