The training grounds were alive with murmurs and anticipation. The students stood in neat formations, bruised, battered, and fatigued, their expressions a blend of exhaustion and anxious curiosity. The week-long competition had tested their limits, both physically and mentally, and now the moment of reckoning had arrived. Today, they would learn how they had fared against their peers. The air was thick with tension, a palpable silence hanging over the gathered students, as if the very ground beneath them awaited the announcements of the outcomes.
Dawn stood among them, his posture relaxed despite the heavy exhaustion that clung to his body. His muscles ached from the constant exertion, his limbs felt leaden, and his mind, though sharp, was weary. The faint marks of the week's grueling battles were etched across his body—bruises, cuts, and the faint ghost of every clash he had endured. Yet, despite the physical toll, his mind was clearer than it had ever been. This competition had been more than just a test of strength; it had been an opportunity to understand his weaknesses and hone his skills. Every battle had offered something valuable, even the defeats.
At the front, Instructor Valeris surveyed the sea of students with a piercing gaze. His eyes lingered on a few individuals, pausing for a fraction of a second on those whose performance had been noteworthy. His expression was unreadable, as always, but there was a certain tension in the air whenever he spoke. The students knew that beneath his seemingly indifferent exterior, Valeris had already sized them up, measured their potential, and was now preparing to reveal their fate.
"One week," Valeris' voice rang out, deep and steady, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "That is all the time you were given to prove yourselves. Some of you exceeded expectations. Some of you barely scraped by. And a few of you stood at the very top. Today, we announce your standings. The results will speak for themselves. But remember, these standings are just a moment in time. What matters most is how you move forward from here."
A hush fell over the students, a ripple of excitement and nervousness spreading through the crowd. Some clenched their fists in anticipation, others stood still, trying to keep their expressions unreadable. Dawn, however, remained unfazed. His posture was calm, his heartbeat steady. His gaze was fixed ahead, neither eager nor worried. He had already reconciled with the fact that the results would not define him. It was the journey—the battles fought, the lessons learned—that would matter in the end.
The tension in the air thickened as Instructor Eleanor, standing beside Valeris, unfurled a large parchment. Her eyes scanned the contents, the weight of the moment settling upon her shoulders as she prepared to announce the rankings. "The rankings are based on three key factors," she began, her voice clear and strong. "Battles fought, battles won, and battles lost. Your performance in each of these areas determines your standing. Keep in mind, however, that these rankings are not final. You will have another chance to prove yourselves in the next trials."
The students listened intently, hanging on her every word. Those who had fought hard but struggled with consistency, those who had won with ease but lacked the depth of skill—they would all be judged today. Eleanor's gaze swept across the crowd before she began.
"Let us begin with those who lost more than they won. These are the students who fought valiantly, but their struggles were not enough to tip the scales in their favor. Despite their efforts, they have earned the ranking of Pass."
A quiet murmur spread through the crowd as the first category was announced. There was no shame in it, but it was clear from the downcast eyes of many that this was a difficult outcome to bear. These were the students who would need to check the noticeboard to find their names, as only the higher-ranked individuals would be called aloud.
"For those of you who fought as many times as you lost," Eleanor continued, "but held your own, demonstrating perseverance and resilience, you have earned the ranking of Good."
A few students nodded to themselves in satisfaction. They had done what they could, and now, their efforts would be acknowledged. This category was a large one, filled with those who had shown promise but hadn't quite reached the next level. Their names, too, would be listed on the noticeboard.
Eleanor paused for a moment, letting the weight of the words sink in before continuing. "Now, we come to those who have won more than they lost, who demonstrated remarkable skill and growth throughout the competition. For these students, we have awarded the ranking of Excellent."
The tension in the air thickened, anticipation hanging like a dense fog over the crowd. And then, Eleanor began to read the names aloud.
"Dawn," she called, her voice clear and steady. "37 battles fought, 24 victories, 13 defeats."
A quiet murmur spread through the crowd as Dawn's name was announced. He stood unmoving, his expression neutral, his mind not focusing on the rank, but on the battles he had fought, the lessons he had learned. He had earned the rank, but it was not the rank that mattered to him—it was the growth that had come with it. Still, a small sense of satisfaction filled him, knowing that his efforts had been recognized.
"Isadora Valcrest," she called next. "32 battles fought, 21 victories, 11 defeats."
"Reynard Solstice," she announced. "36 battles fought, 22 victories, 14 defeats."
"Ivy Marcell," Eleanor finished. "33 battles fought, 20 victories, 13 defeats."
The students who had earned the Excellent ranking stood tall, some with pride, others lost in thought, reflecting on their performance. This was an achievement, yes, but it was also a reminder of how much more there was to learn.
Eleanor paused before continuing, her voice taking on a deeper, more measured tone. "And now, we come to the final ranking. Among all the competitors, only one student remained undefeated." She looked out over the crowd, her eyes scanning the students before she spoke again. "For achieving the rank of Supreme, we recognize—Gary Amberson."
A wave of whispers swept through the crowd, rippling like a stone thrown into water. Gary Amberson—42 battles fought, 42 victories. A flawless record. His name carried weight, a reputation that preceded him. Yet, despite the murmurs and the awe in the air, Gary stood impassively, his arms folded across his chest, his expression calm and unreadable. To him, this was no surprise. It was only the natural result of his preparation, his discipline, his focus. It was the outcome he expected.
Dawn, watching from the side, had no strong reaction to the announcement. It was expected, after all. Gary was always at the top. There was no point in feeling envious or disappointed. The outcome of this competition, like any other, was simply a reflection of the journey each individual had taken. And Gary's journey was one of unrelenting discipline.
Valeris stepped forward again, his presence commanding attention. "Take pride in your results, but do not grow complacent. The rankings are not the end—they are merely a checkpoint. The next trials begin in one week. Prepare accordingly. If you are to succeed, you must push beyond the limits you have set for yourselves."
With that, the results were sealed. The students, some elated, others reflecting on their performance, began to disperse. The noticeboard, however, would reveal the full list of rankings—those who had earned Pass, Good, and Excellent would find their names there, but it was the Supreme ranking that everyone would remember.
Dawn turned, his thoughts already shifting to the future. One week. He had a week to prepare. A week to push further, to sharpen his skills, to find the next piece of his path. The competition had given him a glimpse of his strengths and weaknesses. But that was all it was—a glimpse.
---
Before students could disperse, a figure clad in black robes stepped forward from the shadowed edge of the crowd. His presence was commanding despite his relatively unassuming stature. Instructor Solene, a man of few words, surveyed the students with cold eyes. His voice, when it came, was low and steady, yet it carried the sharpness of authority.
"Do not mistake today's results as the end," he said, his tone unyielding. "Tomorrow, a new set of trials begins. Your performance thus far may have earned you some measure of success, but the challenges ahead will require far more from each of you." His gaze sharpened as he looked at the gathered students, each one still reeling from the announcement. "One night to prepare. Do not waste it."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, the hem of his black robes trailing behind him like a shadow as the students filed out, the gravity of his words lingering in the air.