Three hours had passed. Twelve thousand common candidates processed. They moved through those ten pods like grain through a mill. The final statistics blazed across every screen in the arena:
COMMON TESTING FINAL RESULTS
F-Grade: 8,847 (73.7%)
D-Grade: 2,341 (19.5%)
C-Grade: 644 (5.4%)
B-Grade: 146 (1.2%)
A-Grade: 2 (0.02%)
The commentators had given up trying to explain it. A generation testing way above the historical average. One hundred forty-six B-Grades when they should have seen forty. Six hundred C-Grades instead of two hundred.
And those two A-Grades, their names already carved into Eridani history.
In Assembly Hall Seven, we'd watched it all in silence. The celebration, the confusion, the growing unease as the numbers kept defying probability.
"Scholars testing begins in five minutes"
The announcer's voice echoed. He sounded tired. Three hours of trying to maintain excitement while reality had bent around him.
Through the transparent wall, I could see the scholarship candidates gathering at their gate. Three pods, better lit than Commons, but still industrial. Still efficient.
"There," Ferdinand pointed. "Isn't that your friend? Volkov?"
It was. Alexei stood with two other scholarship kids, making exaggerated gestures that had them both laughing. Even from here, I could see it was forced. His shoulders were too tight, his movements too sharp.
First was always the worst. I felt for him. I tried waving at him from our box, but never caught his eye.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we now proceed to Scholars Testing! These exceptional young seeds earned their place through academic excellence and demonstrated ability!"
The Scholars candidates entered in groups of three. The first batch approached their pods.
"Sarah Kim! David Okonkwo! Alexei Volkov!"
The announcer actually bothered to announce the names of the scholarship kids. In a way, they better represented the Federation than the legacy kids.
Sarah Kim walked with precise steps, hands clenched at her sides. David Okonkwo kept touching his scholarship pin as if it would bring him comfort. And Alexei... Alexei shot finger-guns at the crowd.
I couldn't suppress the laugh that escaped my lips; some in the crowd seemed to follow suit. Not a lot, but some. The tension broke just a little, which was probably what he'd intended. Classic Alexei.
The three pods dilated in unison. They entered.
Thirty seconds.
I found myself counting heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Four-
The pods opened.
Sarah Kim: B-GRADE
Excellent for a scholarship kid. Her family would be very proud.
David Okonkwo: C-GRADE
It was good. Solid. He'd likely live through his service years.
Alexei Volkov: ...
The display above his pod flickered. Colours flashed: grey, white, gold, green. Officials scrambled to the testing equipment. It happened at least once a year. It wasn't uncommon for the machines to struggle with assigning a Grade.
Then it resolved.
S-GRADE
The letters burst out over his pod like a purple nebula, holographic light twisting and turning to show its majesty.
The arena froze. Disbelief rippled through a hundred thousand faces, mouths open, eyes wide, the silence dense—one collective mind struggling to process the impossible.
Alexei Volkov. Son of a cargo haulers.
S-grade...
He stood there, staring at the purple letters above his pod. His face drained of colour. His mouth opened and closed like the fish in our pond. Then he started laughing. Hysterically. He doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. His face was red, tears streaming,
Then the arena exploded.
Not celebration. Chaos.
"RETEST!" Someone screamed from the Legacy section. "CHECK THE MACHINE!"
Betting systems crashed. Millions of credits in presumed-safe wagers evaporated. Legacy box windows rattled as families shouted at officials, their voices rising in angry protest and confusion. The Scholarship and Commons sections rose to their feet, cheering and embracing one another. One of their own had just done the impossible.
The announcer struggled to be heard over the pandemonium.
"S-grade! Alexei Volkov tests S-grade! The first common-born S-grade in Epsilon Eridani in over—"
Officials surrounded Alexei, who was still laughing. They weren't guiding him away; they were protecting him. The crowd pressed against barriers—some crying, some furious, some trying to touch him as if he were suddenly divine.
I watched my best friend, the class clown who'd stolen liquor for our last night together, who'd been prepared to die as F-Grade, shaking with laughter in the centre of an impossible moment.
He raised his head toward the legacy boxes, face streaked with tears, searching through the blur for me. Our eyes met—I pressed a hand desperately against the glass. Even from this distance, I could see it. Not joy. Not pride.
Terror mixed with hysteria. The laugh of someone who'd just won a lottery they'd never even entered.
"That's impossible," David Huang whispered beside me. "His genetics...his family..."
"The machine doesn't lie," Yukiko said, but her voice shook. "It can't lie."
Tom had stopped retching and stared at the screen, where the result kept replaying. "His parents are D-grade. Both of them. How-"
"Mutation," Ferdinand said quickly. "Has to be. Spontaneous genetic mutation. It has to be..."
"Not like this," Maria countered. "Not from D to S. That's not mutation, that's..."
"A miracle," I finished.
On the arena floor, security had formed a protective corridor. Alexei had finally stopped laughing, but he moved like a puppet with cut strings. He was being escorted not to the standard exit but toward the administrative levels. He'd likely be tested again.
His parents weren't in the common stands anymore; security had already extracted them. Their son had just become one of the most valuable assets in human space.
"Your friend," Ferdinand repeated, studying me. "The youngest Tiernan brat is friends with..."
"Alexei Volkov," I said his name firmly. "S-grade."
That shut him up. You didn't question S-grades, no matter their birth.
-
The arena took fifteen minutes to settle. Diagnostics confirmed no malfunction. The replay looped again and again: hesitation, cycling, purple, certainty.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"
The announcer finally managed,
"We apologise for the delay. The testing will continue."
Another batch of the Scholars walked down to the pods; the first pod lit up as they were tested.
C-GRADE.
Someone in the Scholars section applauded. Alone. The sound died quickly, swallowed by the oppressive quiet.
...
-
Around eight hundred and fifty more Scholar candidates tested over the next hour. 1 A-Grade. 94 B-Grades. 135 C-Grades. 279 D-Grades. 341 F-Grades.
"This is wrong," Yukiko muttered beside me. "These statistics... Eight-point-eight out of twelve thousand? That's only seventy-three per cent."
"Great year," Ferdinand said, his voice lacking conviction.
"Great century, more like," David added. "My father said F-grade rates have been declining for decades."
"Yes, they have. But only by fractions of a per cent every year... This..." Yukiko tried to find the words but couldn't.
-
"Legacy candidates, prepare for individual testing!"
My stomach clenched. Around me, the other legacy kids straightened their expensive clothes, fixed their hair and prepared. The arena began to restructure itself. The ten common pods and three scholarship pods retracted into the floor. The singular golden pod began to elevate itself. It stood alone in the centre of the arena.
Maximum spectacle for minimum numbers...
"Legacy testing will now commence!"
The announcer's voice carried forced grandeur, trying to restore order after Alexei's chaos.
In our hall, a section of the floor began to glow—the Federation logo illuminating in gold. We all knew what it meant. One of us would go first from Hall Seven.
"First candidate!"
An official drew a small piece of paper from a ceremonial box. With a flourish, they held it up to a holo-recorder. The name 'David Huang' painted itself across all the screens in the arena.
"David Huang!"
David went pale. "First? I have to go first?"
"Better to get it over with," Ferdinand said, though he looked relieved that it wasn't him.
David looked around for a moment, hesitating. The Federation logo painted on the floor began to glow, and with silent recognition, he stood over it. With a CLINK, the floor began to sink below him in a circle. The floor he was standing on became a floating platform for the whole world to see him from.
The platform began to descend, slowly, deliberately. Through the hole in the floor, we could watch him sink into view of the arena. A roar echoed throughout the arena as the crowd caught sight of him, suspended fifty meters above the arena floor. The platform rotated slowly so every angle could be observed.
"David Huaaaaaaaang!"
The announcer's voice boomed as David's platform descended.
"Huang's Haberdashers! Four generations of service! Son of Colonel George Huang!"
Each title hammered out as David descended inch by inch. By the time his platform reached the arena floor, his entire lineage had been recited across multiple holoprojectors. He stepped off, legs shaking, and approached the golden pod.
B-GRADE
The platform rose back up empty while David was escorted out.
More halls were called. We pressed against the glass to watch each candidate's descent. A Viktor Castellan with thirty-seven generations, B-Grade. A Jennifer Ashworth with twenty-eight generations, B-Grade.
"Marcus Finnigan! Finnigan Security! thirty-three generations of service!"
We watched the nervous wreck from Hall Three, the platform rotating him like a display piece.
A-GRADE
The legacy boxes went wild with applause, relief obvious in their demeanour as though order had been restored by a single A-grade.
"Looks like legacy families are in for a good day," Yukiko observed. "One A-Grade already, and Chen Wei still to come."
"You think she'll test A?" Tom asked.
"With Marshal Chen's genetics?" Maria said. "She'd better."
I hoped she was right...
-
Five more legacy candidates. Four B-grades, one A-grade. The rhythm of expectation met, order restored.
Then-
"Yukiko Nakamura! Nakamura Systems! Forty-eight generations of service! Daughter of S-Grade Luminary Akira Nakamura, currently serving!"
At the mention of her mother's name, Akira, the arena erupted. Not the chaos from earlier, but reverence. Luminary was one of the highest ranks a cultivator could achieve; less than one hundred of them existed in the Federation at any given time. The reaction was entirely justified.
Her lineage was recited, forty-eight generations of service, each notable member named. By the time she reached the arena floor, she'd been rotating for nearly a minute before it touched the ground. Yukiko stepped off the platform and walked to the golden pod like she was taking a casual stroll.
The pod opened. She entered.
Thirty Seconds
A-GRADE
The golden letters burst to life, not quite S-grade's nebula effect but still impressive. Golden light with purple edges that made the grade look almost royal.
The crowd celebrated. A-grade from a Nakamura? The natural order was fixed.
"She's not disappointed," Tom remarked.
"She's Nakamura," Ferdinand replied. "They don't show disappointment."
"Or anythi-," Maria added quietly.
"Chen Wei!
"Holy shit," Ferdinand breathed. "Here we go."
"Chen Wei! The Chen Dynasty! fifty-three generations of service! Granddaughter of S-Grade, Luminary Marshal Chen Haoran, currently serving!"
Through the viewing walls, we saw the floor of Hall Eight glow. Wei stood alone on her platform as it began its descent. The arena went dead silent.
Wei descended like an angel being lowered from heaven. Her white dress caught the lights perfectly. Her family had planned her outfit perfectly. The platform rotated, and she remained perfectly still. Perfectly composed.
"Fifty-three generations," Maria whispered. "They're going to name them all."
Fifty-three generations the announcer went through. Great-granduncle this, Luminary that. Oh, so 'honourable Marshall Chen Haoran'. All while Chen Wei hung there rotating like a music-box dancer.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the arena floor and stepped off the platform.
The pod dilated. She entered.
Thirty seconds.
A hundred thousand people held their breaths collectively for almost half a minute.
S-GRADE
The arena shattered.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" Ferdinand screamed.
Tom dropped to his knees. Maria recited prayers.
"THE SECOND S-GRADE IN ONE DAYYYY!"
The announcer's voice cracked, barely audible over the roaring.
"THE FIRST TIME IN THREE FEDERATION HISTORY!"
Through the glass, the legacy boxes erupted into chaos. Two S-Grades in one testing. The impossibility of it broke something fundamental.
"This can't be real," Tom kept saying. "This can't be real."
I sat frozen for a moment, she'd done it... She'd actually done it. If I could get an A-Grade. Then the three of us…
My eyes locked on Chen Wei on the arena floor. Marshal Chen had floated down from his premium box, like gravity was a mere suggestion to him. It took but a moment for him to reach Chen Wei, and for the first time, I saw them embrace.
Our eyes locked for a brief moment. I could see her, even from here... Her eyes were screaming.
"Marcus," Tom said suddenly. "You're friends with both of them."
Everyone turned to stare at me.
"The nobody who got S-Grade and the Chen heir," Ferdinand said slowly. "And you know them both."
I didn't respond; everything drowned out by oppressive copper and the sound of her screaming eyes.
I didn't even hear the announcer's next call.
"Marcus Tiernan!