The Arcane Academy did not tolerate stagnation.
One week after entrance assessments, the first Monthly Ranking Exam was announced.
For most students, it was an opportunity.
For the lowest-ranked, it was a warning.
Eryon stood at the edge of the main examination hall as hundreds of students gathered beneath the floating crystal platforms. The hall was vast, its ceiling lost in darkness, runes drifting slowly like watchful eyes.
Above them, the Ranking Board shimmered into existence.
Names glowed in descending order.
At the very bottom—
Eryon Vale. Rank: 317 of 317.
A ripple of quiet amusement spread through the crowd.
"He's still here?"
"Didn't they usually eliminate the last-ranked after the first week?"
"Maybe they're keeping him as an example."
Eryon ignored them.
He had already felt it—the difference inside his mana. Still unstable. Still dangerous. But no longer useless.
A senior examiner stepped forward.
"The Monthly Ranking Exam consists of two phases," she announced."Written evaluation and combat demonstration."
A collective sigh followed.
Written tests were predictable. Combat was not.
"Combat demonstrations will be conducted in ranked order," she continued."Lower ranks first."
The message was clear.
Those at the bottom would perform under the gaze of everyone else.
The written exam passed without incident.
Eryon answered mechanically, relying on memorization rather than insight. His score was mediocre—enough to avoid immediate disqualification, not enough to matter.
Then came combat.
The arena platforms activated one by one.
Illusion barriers rose, forming enclosed dueling fields.
"Rank 317," the examiner called. "Eryon Vale. Step forward."
Laughter echoed openly this time.
Eryon stepped onto the platform.
His opponent appeared moments later—a stocky boy with confident posture and stable mana flow.
"Rank 289," the examiner announced. "Darren Holt."
Darren smirked. "Try not to embarrass yourself too much."
The barrier sealed.
"Begin."
Darren moved first, forming a basic earth construct—solid, textbook-perfect. The ground beneath Eryon's feet hardened, attempting to bind his legs.
Eryon reacted instinctively.
Mana surged.
The spell formation trembled.
Collapsed.
Pain flared.
Gasps followed.
"Already?"
"That didn't even last a second."
And then—
[Failed Combat Spell Detected] [Exam Environment Identified] Evolution Priority: HIGH
Time seemed to slow.
[Previous Adaptation Insufficient] [Generating New Mutation Path...] Options: — Reinforce instability resistance — Compress spell structure further Accept compression?
Compression meant risk. Less margin. Less control.
Eryon accepted.
"Yes."
The pain was immediate and brutal. His mana channels burned as if scraped raw, but the spell did not collapse.
Instead, it contracted.
A thin, jagged construct formed—nothing like the academy's approved spells.
Darren hesitated. "What kind of—"
Eryon released it.
The construct struck the earth binding and shattered it instantly, the compressed energy ripping through Darren's defenses and throwing him backward.
He hit the barrier hard.
Silence.
Then the examiner's voice cut through the air.
"Winner—Eryon Vale."
The hall erupted.
"What?"
"That spell—did you see the shape?"
"That wasn't standard magic."
Eryon stood still, breathing hard.
The ranking board flickered.
Rank Update Pending…
Numbers shifted.
Slowly.
Pain pulsed through his veins, but he stayed upright.
Darren stared at him in disbelief as the barrier lowered.
"You—what did you do?"
Eryon did not answer.
His next match came minutes later.
Then another.
Each time, the pattern repeated.
Spell instability.Failure.Adaptation.
Each evolution shaved something away—efficiency gained, control lost.
By the fifth match, whispers had turned into focused attention.
"He's not getting stronger normally."
"His spells look wrong."
"That's not improvement. That's mutation."
The system was relentless.
[Warning] Cumulative deviation increasing. Anomaly Level: Moderate
By the end of the combat phase, Eryon could barely stand.
But the ranking board had changed.
Rank: 248.
Not impressive.
Not threatening.
But no longer last.
The examiner reviewed the results, eyes lingering on his name.
"Eryon Vale," she said slowly. "You may step down."
As he left the platform, conversations followed him like shadows.
At the upper observation balcony, several professors watched in silence.
"That wasn't luck," one muttered.
"No," another agreed. "It was forced adaptation."
The headmaster folded his hands behind his back.
"Interesting," he said softly. "He improves fastest when pushed toward failure."
"Should we intervene?"
The headmaster's gaze remained fixed on Eryon.
"Not yet."
That night, Eryon collapsed onto his bed, every breath burning.
The system activated one final time.
[Monthly Evaluation Complete] Growth Summary: — Spell persistence increased — Structural compression achieved — Sanctioned compatibility: Decreasing Notice: Current development trajectory classified as HIGH RISK.
Eryon closed his eyes.
He had survived the exam.
Climbed the rankings.
Endured the pain.
But he understood something now.
The academy rewarded stability.
And he was becoming anything but.
Above him, the ranking board shimmered faintly through the walls.
Eryon Vale was no longer invisible.
And in the Arcane Academy, that was often more dangerous than being weak.