The courtyard was louder than the evaluation hall.
Which was strange.
Because nobody was actually talking.
Thousands of students stood packed beneath the floating announcement panels, yet the noise felt trapped in their throats. Breath. Cloth shifting. Boots scraping stone.
Anticipation had a sound.
Danny leaned against a pillar and watched.
Sorting day always peeled the mask off people.
Some prayed.
Some rehearsed smiles.
Some already looked angry at futures that hadn't happened yet.
The panels flashed.
Every name froze.
Then rearranged.
A collective gasp rolled across the plaza.
Tier rankings appeared beside each student's name.
No decoration.
No ceremony.
Just numbers.
Cold.
Absolute.
Tier 6 students were already surrounded by space. Nobody touched them. Nobody needed to be told not to.
Tier 1 clusters stood tight together like survivors of the same shipwreck.
Danny found his own line.
*Tier 2 — Danny*
Average.
Safe.
Invisible.
Exactly where he wanted to be.
---
The sky darkened slightly.
Not weather.
Magic.
Six rings ignited above the courtyard, burning into existence like celestial brands.
Silver.
White.
Crimson.
Blue.
Black.
Green.
This time, the order mattered.
A teacher stepped forward, coat moving without wind.
"Tier determines placement," he said simply.
No speech.
No comfort.
"Silver Class — Tier 6."
The silver-haired girl didn't react when her name burned into the air. Students reacted for her. Distance formed automatically, like instinct recognizing altitude.
"White Class — Tier 5."
Cheers broke out.
Some cried.
"Crimson Class — Tier 4."
Competitive laughter.
Posturing already starting.
"Blue Class — Tier 3."
Relief.
Respectable.
Stable.
Then,
"Black Class — Tier 2."
The ring pulsed darker.
Heavier.
Danny felt eyes flick toward the black glow and then away again.
Nobody wanted association with gravity.
Finally...
"Green Class — Tier 1."
Silence.
Not cruel.
Just honest.
Tier 1 students stood very still, absorbing the reality of survival mode.
The teacher scanned the crowd.
"No complaints."
Not a threat.
A statement of physics.
"This is not ranking."
"It is diagnosis."
---
Uniform crates rose from the ground with mechanical precision.
Students opened them.
Fabric answered tier.
Silver coats shimmered like moonlight trapped in cloth.
White glowed faintly warm.
Crimson carried heat.
Blue hummed softly.
Black absorbed light.
Green looked… fragile.
Danny pulled on the black coat. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. The crest pulsed once, syncing with his mana signature.
The academy had already memorized him.
A boy beside him muttered, "Tier 2…"
Like a confession.
Danny replied without looking, "Still alive."
The boy exhaled a laugh.
Perspective restored.
---
A second presence entered the courtyard.
The air tightened.
Professors didn't walk loudly.
Reality made room for them.
An older instructor stepped forward, eyes sharp enough to file bone.
He didn't look at the Silver students.
He didn't look at the Green.
He looked at everyone like raw material.
"Tier is not destiny," he said.
The courtyard leaned in.
"It is your current shape under pressure."
A pause.
"Some of you will collapse."
No sugarcoating.
"Some of you will evolve."
His gaze lingered on the Tier 2 and Tier 1 rings.
"Most of you will lie to yourselves about which one you are."
Silence settled like dust.
Then he added, almost casually
"The pillar has never been wrong."
A chill passed through the plaza.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The test wasn't opinion.
It was verdict.
---
As classes began moving toward their assigned corridors, Danny felt it again.
That quiet distortion under the academy.
Not loud.
Not hostile.
Watching.
A wall near the stairwell carried old crest carvings worn nearly smooth by time.
Six symbols.
But the stone around them suggested space.
Like something had been removed.
Not broken.
Erased.
His eyes traced the empty gaps.
Two spaces.
Deliberate.
Forgotten on purpose.
Danny looked away first.
Not because he was afraid.
Because staring too long at buried things made them stare back.
He joined the flow of black uniforms moving deeper into the academy.
Above him, the six rings faded.
But the empty spaces lingered in his mind.
Judgment had been passed.
Class had been assigned.
The academy had swallowed them.
And digestion had begun.