Chapter 58: Results

Chapter 58: Chapter 58: Results

Stepping out of the swirling dimensional exit, Eric found his boots planted firmly upon the cold flagstones of the Riverdale District Testing Grounds.

The crisp frontier morning air rushed into his lungs, carrying the familiar scents of damp slate, crushed limestone, and transport exhaust.

He slipped through the press of bodies toward an empty stone bench along the courtyard perimeter, sat down, and quietly observed the aftermath.

Around him, hundreds of Riverdale examinees poured through the arches in an endless tide of exhaustion. Some stumbled out weeping, clutching shattered bucklers or heavily bandaged forearms, while others laughed boisterously with their squad mates, bragging loudly about their monster kills. Emergency medical attendants bustled frantically through the rows, administering high-grade alchemical recovery salves to the heavily bruised and setting fractured limbs.

Once the final portal hummed and collapsed into a silent pinpoint of light, a senior military examiner ascended the central platform.

"Attention, examinees!" His voice boomed across the staging yard, amplified by the courtyard’s runic acoustic arrays. "The unified national practical trial is officially concluded. Commendations to all who held the line and endured the artificial proving grounds."

The examiner swept an unblinking, disciplined gaze across the battered crowd.

"Disperse and return to your respective residences. The nationwide tabulation of theoretical and practical metrics is underway. Official results and rank standings will go live on the central examination portal tomorrow at precisely eight o’clock in the morning. Dismissed!"

A collective wave of relieved sighs rippled across the courtyard. Just like that, the grueling crucible that had linked every corner of the kingdom of Auremont was over.

Eric rose to his feet, rolling his tight shoulders to work out the lingering stiffness.

Before heading back to Elm Street, there was one urgent errand to attend to. His midnight-black scout gear had taken a beating, scratched deep by Kharntuft chitin hooks and scored by razor windblades. He hailed an auto-cab and rode directly to the boutique armory where he had originally purchased the kit.

The craftsman behind the counter inspected the lacerations with a low, critical grunt.

"Cuts through the outer drake-weave, but the reinforced inner lining held up well," the smith noted, jotting down the repair order on a slate tablet. "It’ll take two business days to re-weave the stabilizing enchantments and reseal the leather. Leave your address, lad. We’ll courier it straight to your doorstep once it’s pristine."

"Sounds good to me," Eric nodded, authorizing the advance service fee via his smartband and logging the delivery address for Sunshine Home.

Leaving the shop in simple civilian clothes, Eric made a quick detour through the central market pavilion. Flush with hunting credits, he bought several prime cuts of marbled horned-ox flank, a sack of root vegetables, and fragrant fresh herbs before catching the tram home.

When he pushed through the front door, the warm aroma of brewing tea greeted him. Emily was already seated at the dining table, sorting through a pile of orphanage utility ledgers with a quill.

"Eric!" Emily’s face brightened as she pushed back her chair, scanning him from head to toe with obvious relief. "You’re back! How did the practicals go? Are you hurt?"

"I’m completely fine, Sis," Eric smiled warmly, holding up the heavy grocery parcel. "Everything went smoothly. I handled my end out there. I picked up some fresh ox flanks from the market. Let’s make a massive pot of meat stew tonight. I’m completely starving."

Emily chuckled, her worried expression melting into pure affection. "Ox flank? The kids will lose their minds. Go wash up, I’ll start peeling the potatoes."

Dinner was a boisterous, heartwarming affair. The five children of Sunshine Home devoured the rich, hearty stew with bright laughter, clamoring around Eric’s chair to hear sanitized, thrilling tales of misty alpine ridges and hidden root caverns. Seeing their full bellies and genuine smiles stripped away every shred of fatigue Eric carried from the rift.

Later that night, the attic fell dead silent under the moonlight.

Eric locked the door, retrieved the heavy pouch of Soldier-rank mana stones harvested during the trials, and arranged them neatly across the wooden desk.

"Dig in, buddy," Eric murmured.

*Caw!*

Coal trilled softly, his pitch-black eyes glittering with excitement.

With dozens of fresh Soldier-tier cores accumulated from their kills, Coal had an abundance of high-density energy to feed on for weeks to come. The crow began absorbing the ambient mana directly into his core through his talons, while Eric sat cross-legged on his mattress, quietly guiding his own liquid mana pool through his meridians.

The next morning, pale golden sunlight spilled through the small attic window.

Eric stirred, letting out a deep, satisfying yawn as his joints popped in sequence.

"Good morning, Coal. Core feeling recharged?"

*Caww.* Coal flapped his wings lightly from his perch, looking sleek, dark, and thoroughly revitalized.

"Same here. After a grind like that, a full night of peace feels incredible." Eric swung his legs over the edge of the cot and raised his left wrist. "Eight o’clock. The merit board should be updated."

He activated the unified national examination portal, entered his admit token ID, and loaded the live merit registry.

The moment the front page loaded, the numbers headlining the top tiers made his breath catch in his throat:

[AUREMONT NATIONAL MERIT BOARD]

Axel Vince — 1,123 Points

Vivian Ashford — 1,097 Points

Sebastian Crowe — 1,082 Points

Eric stared at the glowing digits, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief.

"What the absolute hell...?" Eric muttered aloud. "Over eleven hundred points?! The entire top ten is sitting above nine hundred?!"

Even factoring in a perfect 100 on the theoretical paper, those monstrous examinees had racked up over a thousand combat points in a single twenty-four-hour cycle. They weren’t just picking off solitary beasts, they had to be reaping high-tier monsters like wheat, or relentlessly hunting down and plundering dozens of upper-echelon squads without taking a single second of rest.

Eric scrolled down the massive registry to locate his personal breakdown:

EXAMINATION REPORT

Candidate: Eric (Riverdale District Center)

Theoretical Score: 100 / 100

Practical Score: 130

Total Cumulative Score: 230 Points

National Standing: Rank #33,456

Qualification Status: PASSED

"A perfect 100 on theory, and 130 from practical kills and plundering, totaling 230 points," Eric whispered, staring at his placement. "And with that score, I’m sitting down at rank thirty-three thousand?!"

A bitter, self-deprecating smirk tugged at his lips.

"I really underestimated the sheer scale of this world. In a kingdom as vast as Auremont, institutional backing, generational resources, and noble bloodlines reign supreme."

A commoner orphan scraping by in a frontier settlement, reaching Soldier Level 2 through pure grit and some system’s rewards, was still a tiny speck compared to the scions of high clans who had been cultivated with high-grade elixirs, master tutors, and high tier combat techniques since childhood.

He took a slow, steady breath, letting the reality settle into his chest.

"Sigh... Well, a pass is still a pass."

Scanning the regional admission guidelines, the cutoff threshold for overall academy eligibility this year was set strictly at the *Top 50,000*. The quota had tightened noticeably, last year, the passing line had stretched to 70,000 candidates, meaning competition for academy admission was fiercer than ever.

Sitting at rank 33,456, Eric knew precisely where he stood.

"No elite, top-tier capital academy is going to glance twice at an applicant ranked past thirty thousand," Eric said to himself, his dark eyes hardening with pragmatic resolve. "With only three application tokens, swinging for the royal academies is suicide. I need to target a solid, reputable mid-tier academy, an institution that possesses the Soldier-grade cultivation manuals and resources I need, but won’t toss my application straight into the trash."