The rankings updated at exactly 6:00 a.m.
No bells rang. No announcements echoed through the halls. The academy didn't need noise to remind its students who mattered.
Every wrist terminal vibrated once.
That was enough.
Screens lit up across the dormitory floor—numbers appearing beside names, clean and unforgiving. Some students froze where they stood. Others refreshed the page again and again, as if repetition could change reality.
sharp breath was sucked in from the bed across the room.
"…I dropped."
The word carried more weight than it should have.
Kairo Vale sat upright on his bed, back straight, hands resting calmly on his knees. His terminal lay dark beside him, untouched. He didn't need to look to know where he stood.
What interested him was how everyone else reacted.
Fear surfaced first. It always did.
Across the shared dorm, Elias Thorn laughed—too loudly. The sound cracked halfway through, forced and hollow.
"Top thirty," Elias said, shoving his terminal toward anyone who would look. "Still elite."
No one congratulated him.
They were too busy checking their own scores.
Someone cursed under their breath. Someone else went silent, staring at the screen like it might blink away if ignored long enough.
Kairo's eyes moved, cataloging everything.
Who checked immediately. Who hesitated. Who pretended they didn't care.
The rankings didn't just show performance. They revealed pressure points.
The rankings didn't just show performance. They revealed pressure points.
A soft chime echoed through the corridor speakers
MERIT UPDATE COMPLETE. NEXT EVALUATION: 7 DAYS.
Seven days.
That was how long the academy gave you to prove your worth.
Or lose it.
Echelon Institute stood at the edge of the capital like a monument carved from arrogance. Marble floors. Glass ceilings. Surveillance lenses tucked so neatly into the architecture that first-years forgot they were there.
Second-years didn't.
Third-years learned to smile at the cameras.
Kairo slipped on his uniform jacket and stood. His movements were unhurried, precise. The kind of calm that made people uncomfortable without knowing why.
"You're not checking?" Elias asked, voice tight.
Kairo met his gaze briefly. "There's no reason to rush."
"That's easy to say when you're not at risk," Elias snapped.
Kairo tilted his head slightly. "Are you?"
Elias didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
The hallway outside buzzed with low voices as students poured out of their rooms. Rankings were already spreading, whispered like secrets that everyone somehow knew.
"House A gained again."
"Someone from House D fell below the threshold."
"They say if you hit zero, you're done."
No one said the word expelled.
They didn't need to.
Kairo walked with the flow, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded. His terminal finally lit up on its own, the screen activating as he passed a sensor gate.
KAIRO VALE
MERIT SCORE: 41
Perfectly average.
Safely invisible.
Students ahead of him glanced back, reassured. Forty-one meant nothing. It didn't threaten anyone. It didn't inspire anything.
Kairo let them believe that.
In the main atrium, sunlight spilled through the glass dome above, illuminating the academy crest embedded in the floor. Students clustered by House banners—four of them, each representing a different projection of future success.
Kairo's banner hung slightly apart.
House C.
Adaptability.
The polite way of saying unremarkable, but useful.
"Vale."
He turned.
Mireya Solace stood near the central staircase, terminal already lowered. She didn't need to check rankings either. Everyone knew where she stood.
Top five.
She smiled easily, openly—dangerously so. "You look calm."
"Do I?"
"Too calm," she said. "People who don't react are either confident or lying."
"Which one do you think I am?"
Mireya studied him for a moment longer than necessary. Then she laughed softly. "That's what bothers me."
Before he could respond, a ripple moved through the atrium.
Students parted.
Lucien Ardent descended the stairs without looking at anyone in particular—and somehow commanded everyone's attention anyway. His posture was relaxed, his expression pleasant, his eyes sharp with calculation.
Ranked first.
Again.
Lucien stopped near the crest and spoke, voice carrying without effort. "Congratulations to those who rose. Condolences to those who didn't."
A few students stiffened.
"This system is fair," Lucien continued. "It rewards effort, intelligence, and adaptability. If you fall, it's because you failed to prove your value."
Murmurs spread—agreement, resentment, fear.
Kairo watched quietly.
Lucien's gaze flicked toward him for the briefest moment.
Not recognition.
Assessment.
Kairo met his eyes—and then looked away first.
Not out of submission.
Out of choice.
As the crowd dispersed, Mireya leaned closer. "You know he believes every word he says."
"I know," Kairo replied.
"And you?"
Kairo glanced at his terminal one last time before turning it off.
"I think," he said calmly, "the system isn't measuring intelligence."
Mireya raised an eyebrow. "Then what is it measuring?"
Kairo walked past her, his voice barely audible.
"Compliance."
Above them, unseen lenses adjusted their focus.
The numbers would change again.
And next time—
Someone would disappear.
End Of Chapter 1