The first thing Arin noticed wasn't the sky.
It was the silence.
Not complete silence—people were still talking, laughing, whispering—but underneath all of it, there was something else. A tension. Like the whole world was holding its breath and pretending it wasn't.
He rubbed his palms against his trousers for the third time.
They were still sweating.
"Stop doing that," Kalen said beside him, elbowing him lightly. "You're making me nervous too."
"I'm already nervous," Arin muttered.
Kalen grinned. "Relax. Worst case, you get a D. You'll live."
A D.
Arin nodded like that helped.
"Yeah. I'll live."
That was the problem, wasn't it? Nobody here was thinking about just living. They were thinking about everything that came after—guilds, money, status, power.
The courtyard buzzed around them.
"I'm telling you, I'm getting A-rank."
"If I get B, my dad's already got a contact lined up."
"Silver Crest is recruiting this year—imagine getting in."
Dreams were loud.
Too loud.
Arin looked down at his hands again. There was nothing special about them. No scars from training, no calluses from a sword, no magic flickering at his fingertips.
Just… hands.
"Hey," Kalen said, softer this time. "You'll be fine."
Arin didn't answer.
Because he wasn't sure that was true.
---
The sound came without warning.
A deep, humming vibration that seemed to pass through bone instead of air.
Everyone stopped.
Not because they were told to.
Because they had to.
The sky cracked.
It didn't tear like cloth or split like glass—it just… opened. As if something behind it had decided it was time to be seen.
Light poured through the fracture, pale and cold, spreading across the clouds until the entire sky turned into something unnatural.
Something watching.
The Fate Index.
No one spoke its name out loud.
They didn't need to.
Names began to appear.
Floating. Burning softly in the sky.
"Rian Sol — A Rank."
Cheers exploded.
A boy near the front raised his arms, laughing, already surrounded by people slapping his back.
"Lena Mire — B Rank."
Relief. Applause. Smiles.
Each name felt like a verdict.
Each reaction felt rehearsed.
Arin watched it all like he was standing outside his own life.
A.
B.
C.
The letters blurred together.
People stepped forward, one by one, becoming something more—or something less—with a single word.
He tried to imagine what it would feel like.
To hear your name and not be afraid.
His chest tightened.
What if—
"Arin Veyl."
The world snapped back into focus.
His name.
Of course it would come eventually.
Still, it felt too soon.
Too sudden.
His legs moved before his mind caught up, carrying him forward into the open space where everyone could see him.
It was strange, standing there.
He had never felt so visible.
Or so small.
The light shifted.
Paused.
For a moment—just a moment—Arin thought something was wrong.
The symbols flickered.
Like a candle in the wind.
Then they settled.
And the words appeared.
F Rank.
He didn't understand it at first.
His brain just… refused.
F?
That wasn't—
That wasn't supposed to—
A sound broke through.
A short laugh.
Then another.
"Oh—wait, is that real?"
"F? Seriously?"
"I didn't even know it went that low."
It spread quickly after that. Not loud, not overwhelming—just enough. Enough that he could hear it. Enough that he couldn't ignore it.
Arin kept staring at the sky.
As if it might change.
As if it might correct itself.
It didn't.
"Ability: Error Detection."
The words appeared beneath the rank.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Because now there was something to explain it.
Something to justify it.
"Error… what?"
"Is that even an ability?"
"Sounds useless."
Useless.
That word landed clean.
No laughter this time.
Just agreement.
Arin felt something hollow open up inside his chest.
Not pain.
Not exactly.
Just… emptiness.
Like something had been taken out of him before he even realized he had it.
"Next."
The sky moved on.
Just like that.
As if he had never been there at all.
---
Things didn't go back to normal.
They just… went on without him.
People shifted away.
Not dramatically. Not in a way you could call out.
Just small steps. Subtle turns. Conversations that didn't include him anymore.
Kalen didn't say anything.
That hurt more than if he had laughed.
Arin tried to catch his eye once.
Kalen looked past him.
"Hey—" Arin started.
"Sorry," Kalen said quickly, already stepping back. "I—I need to go."
To people who mattered.
To a future that made sense.
"Yeah," Arin said.
His voice sounded distant.
"Of course."
He didn't remember deciding to leave.
But suddenly he was walking.
Out of the courtyard.
Out of the noise.
Out of everything.
---
The city was celebrating.
Of course it was.
Banners, music, guild recruiters shouting offers—it was like a festival had exploded into life overnight.
People like him weren't supposed to exist here.
Not today.
Not on a day like this.
Arin kept walking anyway.
Past smiling faces.
Past proud families.
Past people who had just been told they mattered.
He stopped in front of a guild hall without really meaning to.
Iron Vanguard.
He stared at the sign for a long moment.
Then laughed under his breath.
"Why not," he muttered.
"Let's hear it one more time."
Inside, it was warm. Loud. Alive.
A man at the counter looked up.
"Name and rank?"
"Arin Veyl."
"And your—"
"F."
The man blinked.
"…You serious?"
Arin met his gaze.
"Yeah."
A pause.
Then the man leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
"…Kid."
That was all he said at first.
Just kid.
Like that explained everything.
"We don't take F-ranks."
"I figured."
"So why ask?"
Arin hesitated.
Because he didn't know.
Because part of him had hoped—
No.
He shook his head.
"Just wanted to hear it clearly."
The man studied him for a second.
Then shrugged.
"This isn't a place for charity. We invest in people who can give something back."
"And I can't."
It wasn't a question.
The man didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Arin nodded once.
"Got it."
And walked out.
---
By the time the sun started setting, the noise had faded.
Or maybe he had just walked far enough that it couldn't reach him anymore.
He found himself in a narrow alley, quiet and empty.
No banners.
No voices.
Just stone walls and shadows stretching long across the ground.
He leaned back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting.
For a while, he didn't think.
Didn't feel.
Just… existed.
Then, quietly—
"…F-rank."
He let out a breath that turned into something like a laugh.
"Error Detection," he said under his breath.
"What does that even mean?"
For a second, nothing happened.
Then—
Something flickered.
Right in front of him.
Faint.
Unstable.
Like light reflecting off broken glass.
Arin froze.
"…What?"
A small, translucent screen hovered in the air.
Not like the one in the sky.
This one felt… wrong.
Incomplete.
The edges distorted, as if it wasn't meant to be seen.
Words struggled into place.
[ERROR DETECTED]
His heartbeat picked up.
"Error…?"
The screen trembled.
Shifted.
And then—
[SYSTEM INCONSISTENCY IDENTIFIED]
Arin stared at it.
At those words.
System.
Inconsistency.
"…That's not possible," he whispered.
The screen flickered harder.
Then vanished.
Gone.
Like it had never existed.
The alley fell silent again.
But something had changed.
Not outside.
Inside.
Arin slowly lifted his head, looking up at the darkening sky.
At the same sky that had judged him.
Declared him worthless.
Final.
Absolute.
"…If there's an error…"
His voice was quiet.
Uncertain.
But no longer empty.
"…then it's not perfect."
And if it wasn't perfect—
Then maybe—
Just maybe—
It wasn't right.