Beware the Possessor: Rankings and Retribution
Professors at the academy can't just casually spill students' personal information. That's a strict rule. At the same time, the academy has a duty to announce each student's grades. That's another ironclad rule. If you tell professors to keep secrets but then demand they publicly post results, there's a good reason for it. It's the outcome of agreements between all the nations. Professors, who can access info anytime, must never breathe a word. On the flip side, academy announcements only involve posting measurement or exam results when they happen. This way, the continental nations get sufficient data on ability users. It's a warning not to poke around for more. Share this much, and everyone should know to respect the line—it's the unspoken rule.
Freshman Power Measurement Results Posted
That's why, the day after the measurement, a notice like this could go up in front of the main building.
"Let's see. Who's topping the freshmen this time?"
"I've told you a million times, first place means nothing. Who's gonna show their full power?"
"You never know. Even if they hold back plenty, some talents can't be hidden."
The ones showing the most interest weren't the freshmen, but the current students. To survive academy life as seniors, they needed to gauge the ability users who'd soon be their juniors from every nation. Plus, after graduation, passing on valuable intel and predictions to their home countries kept the rice bowl full.
"In my eyes, first place has to be those kids."
"The sons of Master Phoenix and Master Sparrow?"
"Sons? Cut that formal crap with the juniors. Try it: Junior Flam. Junior Portus."
But the current students' chatter didn't last long.
"What the hell is this?"
And for good reason—a completely unexpected name sat at the very top.
"Rel Carhan? Who's that?"
"First time hearing of a family called Carhan. Which kingdom's he from?"
Everyone holds back in power measurements, aiming for "just right." But ability users have their pride. They can dominate enough to set the tone, so snagging first place meant top-tier talent. Yet no one had heard of Rel or the Carhan family.
Then one male student paused, brow furrowed in thought. "Wait a sec!"
"I remember. The republic in the continental south just elected a new prime minister. Name's Banplas Carhan."
"So he's connected to the republic's prime minister?"
"Feels more like 'son' than just connected..."
Why were this batch of juniors all so stacked? It was beyond burdensome—now it was ridiculous. Starting with the imperial prince, then the top sons of the elemental houses, the Winter Duchy's princesses, and now this prime minister link from the southern republic.
All current students were ability users, mostly nobles or from powerhouse families. The connections built here were huge assets later. Even with enemy nationals, they could serve as dialogue channels—no one could be taken lightly. Especially not these monstrous juniors.
This split their thoughts into two camps. One: treat them a bit better. The other: lock in that senior-junior dynamic for sure.
The first was obvious, so skip it. The second? With such overwhelming juniors, they might get "eaten" otherwise. Better cement the hierarchy early.
"What about below that?"
"There: Flam Phoenix. Portus Sparrow. Tied for second."
"Tied for second? This is bad."
"Bad how?"
"No clear winner. They'll probably shoot a sequel to that front gate fiasco."
Sharp observation. Abel nodded along, eavesdropping on the seniors.
It would've been better if one had clearly topped the measurement. Rivalries don't peak from imbalances—they intensify when evenly matched.
3rd Place. Abel Rothschild
He'd expected it, but yeah. Blowing up the device and the test site together had cost him. Focusing solely on the device while skimping on finesse control? His clear mistake.
Not first stung, but he learned something valuable. Pinpoint focus. Precise control. Without the academy, it'd have taken ages to realize.
No wonder academies are staples in ability user stories.
Abel nodded, eyes dropping lower.
'Prince Kalligo's around mid-upper ranks.'
He sensed the guy sandbagged on sight. Solid skill in their clash. Should've been top ranks at least. Yet even in a mere measurement—not a real test—he held back over half. Disappointing, but Abel had his own issues. Once classes started proper, no hiding forever.
Next, Seria Frijian. Not in the top. Not mid either. His gaze slid down, down... Near the bottom, he finally spotted her name and let out a low groan.
He'd hoped the king's judgment was off. By Abel's read, Seria was great. That vibrant energy lit up everyone around her. Undeniable positive influence, even if she didn't see it.
But influence aside, skill was skill. Ranking that low from the start meant poor handling talent or pathetically weak output. Her "firefly" self-jab wasn't humility—it was cold reality.
Progress during term would be nice, but no? Perpetual bottom-feeder.
'Not good. Gotta drag her into special training too.'
Same kingdom, king's nudge to look out aside—she was one of his few acquaintances. Help if he could. Not some saint sacrificing himself, but he wasn't so rotten or desperate to cheer her failures and climb over her corpse.
Better to aim higher together. Fulfilling, even.
Just a couple tiny hitches.
'Never taught anyone. And she's a fire user—unlike me.'
His grind-to-breakdown routine helped him, useless for her. Ten thousand sword swings? All-day endurance? No direct body control meant zero gains.
"Abel Rothschild?"
How to make it win-win? Lost in thought, a voice halted him from behind.
Professor? No—fellow student. Upperclassman vibe, not freshman.
"Mind chatting with us seniors a bit?"
Abel's mind raced. Rankings out. Seniors approach. He'd stirred trouble with seniors days ago. Discipline's a senior trope. And crucially: ability user world.
"Sure. Of course."
He followed meekly. At the outdoor training ground's center, students eyed him.
"Saw the results. Third place."
"Yes."
"Impressive. Our junior Abel must be one hell of an ability user."
"Thanks for the kind words."
"So, some advice in that spirit. Ready to listen?"
For a split second, Abel's eyes flickered. But no one present caught it.
The Ascal Kingdom in the continental east. Neighboring Ragem Kingdom right next door.
Like all nations, neighbors can't get along. Similar territory, population, history of clashes? Pure enmity.
"That freshman Abel? From Ascal Kingdom."
Word of his senior scuffle had many current students nodding. Less disdain for seniors, more national bias. A gentle warning, and he'd reflect, reform.
But not everyone stayed quiet. Ragem Kingdom students.
Silence here? Shame as seniors—and as Ragem reps. Ignorance no excuse; time for a stinging lesson. If unheeded? Show why seniors rule. What to learn, build here.
"Freshmen act freshman-like. Seniors, senior-like. Stick to your lane, and good things follow."
Always a few. Arrogant hotshots thinking they're tops until real ability world frog-slams them. Drunk on admission, mistaking themselves for big deals.
Abel fit now. Killer talent. Stellar measurement. Seniors? Who needs 'em.
Left unchecked, bigger trouble later. Ruder acts. Preempt it—that's senior duty. They believed it utterly.
"You might think: 'Do these seniors even qualify to lecture me?' Curious? Spar. Student duels are always greenlit at Continental Academy."
Ragem Kingdom native. Top ranks overall. Third-year Haim Worhes. Led with Physical Enhancement, optimized for unarmed combat, hulking frame intimidating all.
A head taller than Abel. His forearms thicker than Abel's thighs. Just facing him shrank you. No eye contact possible.
Surely Abel too—or so the other seniors firmly believed.
"Sounds good."
What they missed: this guy's farther from normal than imagined. A monster who'd bulldozed even his own limits on delusion-fueled conviction.
"Let's duel, Senior."
Pure joy. Maybe pure madness. Seeing Abel's smile, the seniors realized: something's wrong.