More Important Than Trials (3): The Gap Between A-Rank and S-Rank
More crucial than any trial is this undeniable marker that sets them apart in-game: level. No matter how much you grind, an A-rank adventurer caps at level 89. It's not just some arbitrary in-game limit—there's a fundamental difference between A-rank and S-rank. Sure, you might scoff at a mere one-level gap, but crossing from 89 to 90 requires the core to undergo awakening. Blindly stacking experience and levels won't cut it; you can't brute-force your way to S-rank.
So how do you do it? Slay an S-rank monster for the experience? Absorb an S-rank core? Tackle one of those trials crafted by S-rank legends and emerge victorious? There are various paths, but in-game, they boiled it down to a realization event. Amid crises and desperation, players and their companions awaken, transforming into true S-ranks. Of course, you need to hit at least level 89 first for awakening to even be possible—but once you break through to S-rank, the world looks entirely different. I've felt it myself.
As someone whose composing core has climbed from E-rank to S-rank and beyond, I know firsthand that each awakening stage alters the world you perceive. That's why I can say with certainty: Sorry, Rydmila, but I've got solid reasons for barging into this sealed Earth Tower with Instructor Esta, no hesitation whatsoever.
Slash.
Every swing of her sword cleaves through a monster's torso. Shield-like heads shatter into fragments, skulls and brains slicing apart like tofu under her slashes.
Slash.
Instructor Esta bounds lightly off the monsters' heads. Exploiting their powerful charges but feeble jumps, she hops from body to body, sword flashing.
Slash.
Silver slashes pour down like moonlight. Crescent blades of white sever necks, but the mana strikes don't stop there—they embed and explode on impact.
Clang.
'Impressive as hell.'
I'd seen Instructor Esta fight before—back when I first dropped into this world, or rather from the demon realm to the surface, on that train ride. Her unicorn charge, mowing down monsters in one go, was beautiful and badass. But compared to now? That was barely a warm-up.
Slash, slash, slash!
Silver slashes fly with every swing, carving through the horde. She dispatches one per stroke, almost like the sheer numbers just mean more swings for her mechanical precision and mana flow. Through that, I finally got why Rydmila holds her in such awe.
'She's using exactly the mana needed to kill—no more, no less.'
No overkill. If a level 10 mana costs an A-rank monster's life, she spends precisely 10, slicing methodically. No flashy AoE barrages wasting mana, even if it takes longer. Steady and sure, one by one.
If these weren't trials programmed by the Four Founders to "kill anything with angel powers in its mana pattern, no questions asked," and were real creatures, the survivors would've bolted at their comrades' deaths by now. Any living thing would fear the grim reaper approaching. To them, Instructor Esta is death incarnate.
Slash.
The 400th—a white slash. For flair, perhaps, as she landed before me, her final swing split the last monster from head to tail along its spine in a milky-white strike. The pile of 400 corpses on the floor made it crystal clear why the White Sword Saint earned her title, why academy staff tolerate her free-spirited antics in the old school building, and why, among all the instructors, she's the one teaching the special class.
"Sliced up more than I needed to."
Instructor Esta shook off the aura blade with her hand, dispelling the mana. Not arrogance from no more foes, but efficient mana conservation until the next opponent showed.
"Guess I owe an apology."
"An apology?"
"I wiped out every A-rank monster here."
She grinned sheepishly.
"Rydmila was itching for revenge on them, and I went and hunted them all."
"Oh, that? No worries there."
"Huh?"
"It's a system that respawns them unless you clear straight to floor 7."
"......"
Her face twisted slightly at my words.
"Where's that kind of thing exist?"
"Right here. Blame the Four Founders if you wanna complain."
"Can't I blame you?"
"I'm not one of the Four Founders."
Technically, you'd complain to the game devs who set it up, but neither they nor the Founders are around for a patch request. To alter this tower's persistent mana seal, you'd need someone like a persistent demon god. Without 'Jirun,' the one who gifted humanity the Magic Pants miracle, it'll respawn monsters once we leave.
"Serious question—no one's around. How do you know all this?"
"Believe me if I say it's a divine oracle?"
"You only spill info when convenient, but clam up on the crucial stuff people need most, saving it for later? That's your idea of ideal?"
"At least for now."
I didn't deny her words. In this mental world, linked minds sense emotions clearly—lies don't fly.
"Hiding info means the time isn't right for people to handle it. I'd share anything ready to be shared, like all the knowledge, info, and this trial's existence I've given you over freshman year semester one."
"So when is the right time? Graduation? Before that?"
"When you've hit S-rank like you, Instructor Esta, and can climb this trial tower?"
"Then I've earned the right to some info."
"Eh, not proven yet."
I pointed ahead.
"Perfect timing—here it comes."
Kieeeaaak!!
Beyond the piled corpses of 400 monsters, a roar heralded a colossal beast.
"S-rank monster, [Trigera Saur]."
Nearly 50 meters of armored drake. Its shield-shaped head echoes ancient dinosaurs, but leaner, more drake-dragon kin.
"...500 years ago, things like that roamed these plains?"
"Yep. And by persistent standards, by threat level, it's the 'weakest' of them."
"My threat assessment says you're higher right now."
Instructor Esta smirked, forming an aura blade.
"If you didn't coin the name on the spot, and you're not from 500 years ago, that means you've got this whole trial figured out."
"Pretty much."
I tapped my eye.
"These eyes... see mana lines well."
"?"
"Think emotion magic. Since this isn't reality but a mana-made trial space, I can see the 'info' composing that monster."
"Info, huh."
"The Four Founders' battle experience is etched into the mana creating it, so the info surfaces there."
I framed a square with my fingers like a camera at the S-rank monster.
"Threat level... mana rank equivalent of '95.' End of S-rank territory."
Level 95. In this era, even multiple S-ranks couldn't guarantee victory against it—an S-rank pinnacle beast.
"If the White Sword Saint solos that, she's qualified for world truths. Though packed with despair and frustration."
"Simple answer, then."
She placed a hand on her hip like iaijutsu stance, leaning forward.
"Only the mentally mature can handle truth, so you need that resolve to climb higher."
"Exactly."
"Then watch. My resolve."
She stepped forward.
"White Flash."
A white gleam flashed like light.
Slash.
Instructor Esta appeared at the monster's tail; it froze. 500 years on, threats diminished by Four Founders and heroes slaying S-ranks, but equals always arise.
Instructor Esta was one. One strike from her 50-meter S-rank aura blade cleaved armor no A-rank could scratch.
Not for nothing her heroine No. 11, [End of Purity]. Top adult heroine, top End—means a body of immense talent.
"Bravo."
I applauded her.
"Earth Trial Floor 1 cleared. Congratulations."
"...Phoenix."
She closed in instantly.
"So much to ask, but you won't answer it all?"
"Probably not."
"Then I'll keep it to what you'll answer."
Her face serious, she pointed at me.
"What's at the end of this trial?"
"Hell. And..."
No lies.
"A 17-heroine harem ending."
No lies.
"What?"
"True story."
Only demon realm clearers get the 17-heroine harem end.
"Oh. Was this the answer you wanted?"
I'd been considerate.
"That the trial the Four Founders made to prepare us... is watching from above?"
"......!"
"Floor 1 clear bonus—I'll tell you."
I stepped closer; she instinctively backed up, but I snatched her wrist, placing her hand on my chest.
"The goddess hates men, despises them, wants them gone."