Cyrus woke up to sunlight burning through his eyelids.
Something was wrong. His eyes snapped open and he lunged for his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up with numbers that made his stomach drop.
10:47 AM.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit—"
The ceremony had started at nine. He was supposed to be there over an hour ago.
He sat up too fast and his head spun, the room tilting sideways for a second before everything settled. Memories from last night came back in pieces—the system prompt appearing at midnight, his class options floating in front of him in glowing text, then his chest getting tight and his vision going blurry. Everything had gone black after that.
He'd passed out before picking a class.
Cyrus stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over his blanket as he rushed to the closet. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, but he forced himself to get dressed anyway, fumbling with the buttons on his uniform shirt. The disease always left him weak after an episode, making his whole body feel like it was moving through mud, but there was no time for that now.
He caught his reflection in the mirror while trying to fix his hair. Sharp features, dark hair still messy from sleep, and skin so pale it looked almost white against the black of his uniform. People said he looked like a vampire—the hot kind from movies, not the actual monster kind. At least the disease made him pretty while it was killing him slowly. Small mercies and all that.
Three pills left in his medicine bottle. He grabbed it off the dresser and shoved it in his pocket before running out the door.
The academy grounds were completely empty when he burst outside. Everyone was already in the Grand Hall for the ceremony. Cyrus's footsteps echoed across the stone courtyard as he ran, each breath burning in his lungs like he'd swallowed fire. This was supposed to be the best day of his life—find out his class, start his real training, and get strong enough to cure himself or evolve past this stupid disease that had already taken his mother.
Instead, he was late, and he had no idea what class the system had randomly assigned him while he was unconscious.
The Grand Hall doors were massive things, ornate and fancy. Through the tall windows, he could see lights flashing inside. The ceremony was already in full swing. Cyrus grabbed the handle and pulled hard.
The doors slammed open with a boom that echoed through the entire hall, making everyone stop and stare. Hundreds of eyes locked onto him standing alone in the entrance.
Great. Just great.
He walked down the center aisle between the rows of seated candidates and their families, trying his best to look calm and collected. He tried not to think about how everyone was staring or whispering behind their hands.
"That's Cyrus, isn't it?"
"Why is he so late?"
"He ranked first in our year, though. Probably got something amazing."
"God, he looks good even when he's late. How is that even fair?"
Instructor Vance stood at the front of the hall beside the Awakening Stone, a massive crystal monument that pulsed with blue light. She looked up from her tablet as he approached, her expression cold.
"Candidate Cyrus." Her voice boomed through the hall, amplified by magic. "How nice of you to finally join us."
"Sorry, Instructor, I—"
"I don't care about your excuses," she cut him off, her voice flat. "Sit down. We'll call you when it's your turn."
Cyrus bit his tongue hard enough to taste copper and found an empty seat toward the back. A few people near him shifted away like being late was contagious. He ignored them and focused on the ceremony at the front.
One by one, candidates were called up to place their hand on the Awakening Stone.
A girl with bright red hair went up next, her hand trembling as she touched the crystal surface. Light exploded around her in a brilliant flash and words materialized in the air above her head.
[Class: Flame Sorceress - B Tier]
The crowd erupted in applause. She looked like she might cry from pure happiness as she walked back to her seat. B-tier was respectable, solid enough to build a good career on.
Next was a guy who'd barely managed to pass his combat exams.
[Class: Stone Guardian - C Tier]
The applause was more polite this time, scattered and brief. The guy's shoulders sagged, but he forced a smile anyway. C-tier meant he'd probably spend his career in support roles. It was better than nothing.
Then Marcus went up—the guy who'd ranked third in their year and never let anyone forget it.
[Class: Void Assassin - A Tier]
The whole hall went absolutely crazy. People actually stood up, cheering and clapping. Marcus soaked it all in, waving to the crowd with a huge grin on his face.
Cyrus felt something cold settle in his chest as he watched. That should have been him up there. It would have been him if his body wasn't actively trying to kill him every other day.
More candidates went up after that. More classes were revealed in flashes of light. Everything from E-tier classes that drew sympathetic murmurs to another A-tier that had people on their feet again. Each announcement made the knot in Cyrus's stomach twist a little tighter.
Finally, Instructor Vance's voice cut through the noise.
"Candidate Cyrus."
The entire hall went silent. Everyone turned to look at him again, but this time the whispers were different. Excited. Expectant.
"Oh, here we go."
"I bet he got an S-tier class."
"Probably that legendary Chrono Knight class everyone's been talking about."
Cyrus stood up, ignoring the way his legs felt like they might give out. He walked to the front of the hall with his head up and his face carefully blank, even though his heart was hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.
This was it. Whatever random class the system had assigned him, he was about to find out. And then he'd deal with it, because that's what he always did. Adapt and survive.
He placed his hand on the cold surface of the Awakening Stone.
Light burst around him immediately, warm and tingling against his skin. His system interface materialized in his vision, private to only him—showing his basic stats. But the stone's magic grabbed that data and pulled it outward, projecting it above his head for the entire hall to see.
Cyrus held his breath and waited. The light swirled and coalesced into words.
[Class: ———]
The text flickered. It glitched like a broken video screen. Then it changed.
[Class: NONE]
[Status: CLASSLESS]
The silence that followed was so complete that Cyrus could hear his own heartbeat.
He stared up at the words, reading them over and over like maybe they'd change if he just looked hard enough. Classless. Not F-tier, not even the worst possible class. Nothing. Zero. The system had found him incompatible with every single class in existence.
"Classless," Instructor Vance announced. Her voice was flat, like she was reading a grocery list instead of destroying his entire future.
The whispers started again, spreading through the hall like wildfire.
"Wait, what? How is that even possible?"
"I've never heard of anyone being Classless before."
"He has literally zero potential. That's insane."
"What a complete waste of a pretty face."
Cyrus pulled his hand back from the stone slowly. He turned around to face the crowd, meeting hundreds of stares head-on. Some people looked shocked. Others had pity written all over their faces. Marcus looked way too happy about it.
He found Claudia in the sea of faces. Golden hair, green eyes—beautiful in a way that made his heart skip beats even when his disease wasn't acting up. The girl he'd asked to be his girlfriend three weeks ago. She was staring at him with her mouth slightly open, eyes wide.
Their gazes met. She looked away first.
"Candidate Cyrus," Instructor Vance said, her tone sharp and dismissive. "Return to your seat."
He wanted to argue. Wanted to ask if there was a mistake. But the look in Vance's eyes stopped him cold. There was no sympathy there. Just pure judgment.
The system doesn't make mistakes. If you're Classless, it's because you're worthless.
Cyrus turned and walked back through the crowd. Each step felt too heavy, like he was walking through wet concrete. The whispers followed him the whole way.
"Did you see the look on his face?"
"What's he even supposed to do now? You can't be a hero without a class."
He made it about three rows from his seat before his chest suddenly went tight.
No. Not now. Please not now.
The disease didn't care about timing. His vision started to blur and his hands began shaking worse than before. His heart pounded in his chest all wrong—too fast, too hard.
Cyrus clenched his jaw and forced himself to keep walking. Just get to the doors. Don't collapse here in front of everyone.
The exit looked impossibly far away. He couldn't breathe right, only managing short gasps. Black spots started dancing in his vision.
Behind him, someone was still talking at the front. The ceremony was going on like nothing had happened, like Cyrus's entire future hadn't just been torn apart.
His hand finally found the door handle. He pushed through into the hallway outside and the doors swung shut, cutting off the noise and the stares.
Cyrus made it maybe five more steps down the empty corridor before his legs completely gave out.
He caught himself against the wall and slid down to the floor, sitting with his head between his knees while he fought for each breath. His whole body was shaking.
Medicine. He needed his medicine right now.
His hands were trembling so badly he could barely get the bottle out of his pocket. When he finally managed it, he fumbled with the cap. Three pills rattled around inside. Three pills left and no way to afford more now.
The bottle slipped from his fingers and hit the marble floor with a sharp crack.
Pills scattered everywhere, rolling away across the polished stone. Cyrus just sat there, struggling to breathe, watching his medication roll away into the shadows.
The disease had killed his mother when he was twelve years old. It had taken her slowly, month by month, while he watched helplessly.
Now, it was finally time for it to take him, too.