Kaelen then spoke, his stern gaze resting on Sheila as the screen continued displaying her movements through different sections of Nalim.

"Your survival decisions were among the best in your year. You managed supplies well, secured shelter without drawing unnecessary attention, maintained your physical condition, and adapted to environmental changes without overreacting. Your zone contained several hidden dangers, particularly with unstable terrain and shifting water sources, yet you allowed very few of those dangers to become crises."

The screen showed Sheila treating a wound along her arm, carefully using only what was necessary rather than wasting supplies or Myst. Another scene showed her refusing to pursue a wounded Horror-class demon when the trail led toward an area with heavier demonic presence. She watched it flee, marked the direction, and moved away.

Regulus glanced briefly toward the students before continuing.

"This is where comparison becomes useful. Liam accomplished something none of you could reasonably ignore, but he overextended so severely that his survival depended on another. Asher dominated many of his battles, but his aggression still caused avoidable injuries and risk. Chris produced exceptional kill counts, but his survival judgment was lacking. Sheila’s assessment was different. Her strength came from balance. Combat, preservation, efficiency, and judgment worked together from beginning to end."

The statement settled over the hall with quiet force.

Many students seemed to accept it more easily than they had accepted the earlier explanations. Sheila had not done the single most shocking thing in Nalim. She had not erased a Berserker. She had not piled up demon bodies with the same brutal volume as Chris or Asher.

But what she had done, she had done consistently. There were fewer holes in her performance. Fewer extreme mistakes. Fewer moments where her own choices nearly destroyed her.

Kaelen’s expression grew more focused. "There is also another area where you have improved significantly. Hesitation."

Sheila’s eyes sharpened slightly.

The word struck something personal.

Kaelen continued, "During the one-month training period before academic studies resumed, I saw your skill clearly. No one doubted that. But I also saw moments where you held yourself back, not from lack of ability, but from uncertainty. You sometimes waited too long to commit. You sometimes allowed the weight of consequence to slow your response. That is understandable, given your position and what you have carried, but understandable does not mean harmless."

Sheila lowered her gaze only slightly, her hands remaining still at her sides.

The screen showed one of her early Nalim encounters. A Horror-class demon lunged from behind a ruined wall, and Sheila reacted quickly, freezing the ground beneath its feet and stepping aside before finishing it with a blade of light. There was no visible panic, no frozen moment, no second-guessing.

Another clip followed, showing her choosing to collapse part of a structure to block a demon pack from following her, even though it meant abandoning a route she had been using for shelter. Her expression in the footage was tense, but decisive.

"During this assessment," Kaelen said, "you acted with more conviction. Not recklessness. Conviction. There is a difference. You still think before acting, which is one of your strengths. But you no longer let thought become a chain around your feet. That improvement is important for you, perhaps more than for many of your peers. Someone with your power and position cannot afford to hesitate every time a decision carries weight. Leadership requires thought, yes, but it also requires the ability to move when movement is necessary."

Ariana glanced toward Sheila again, quietly supportive.

Mystica returned to the forefront with a smile that was almost soft, though the glint in her eyes kept it from becoming entirely gentle.

"You did very well, my radiant little princess. Efficient, composed, annoyingly proper in the way only you can manage, and far more decisive than before. You have earned this position, and more importantly, you have earned back something your peers were clearly very eager to return to you."

A few students shifted at that, realizing Mystica had noticed exactly what their reaction meant.

Mystica tilted her head slightly, her smile turning sly. "So prepare yourself, Princess. Rank one is not just a number everyone gets to admire from below. It comes with weight. And as you can already tell, your classmates are quite ready to place some of that weight back into your very capable hands."

Sheila did not respond aloud, but the look in her eyes changed. The praise was heavy, the expectation heavier, but there was also a quiet steadiness in her now that had not always been there. She seemed to understand what Mystica meant, not only as a student but as someone who had already been quietly asked to stand as a kind of bridge, a presence others could accept where Liam could not.

Mystica gave one final look toward Sheila. "Congratulations once again."

The magical screen displayed Sheila’s final highlight, showing her standing at sunrise near the frozen river, light shimmering faintly around her while the ice beneath her feet slowly melted back into flowing water. Then the image faded, and with it, the ranking presentation reached its end.

Lucia stepped forward again, returning to the pulpit as Mystica moved back with the others. She adjusted the clipboard in her hands and looked over the second years, whose exhaustion had finally begun overpowering whatever energy the rankings had drawn from them.

"That concludes the ranking announcement," Lucia said. "All second-year students are now dismissed. You are to proceed to the infirmary for treatment, evaluation, and proper recovery. Food will be provided afterward, and you are all granted a one-week break before academic studies resume." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

A wave of relief passed through the hall.

This time, no one tried to hide it.

Some students immediately sagged where they stood. Others turned toward friends, already speaking in low voices about the infirmary, food, beds, baths, and everything else they had been deprived of inside Nalim.

The authoritative figures began leaving the stage, their robes and uniforms shifting as they moved toward the side doors. Yet before they fully disappeared, Liam briefly made eye contact with Mystica.

She smiled at him.

It was not a congratulatory smile, not exactly. It was sharper than that, more knowing, as if she understood something the others did not or had already seen through several layers of what he wanted and what he would now have to deal with.

Liam held her gaze for a moment before looking away.

Then his eyes met Headmaster Thion’s.

Thion did not smile.

He only studied Liam with a calm, unreadable expression from the edge of the stage, but Liam could feel the eagerness beneath it. The Headmaster was not finished with him. Regulus had made that clear, and Thion’s gaze confirmed it. There would be a conversation later. A long one, most likely.

Liam could already feel the shape of it waiting for him, filled with questions about the Berserker, his reason for seeking it, and whatever else the academy believed he knew.

Near the center of the hall, Sheila was quickly surrounded by her peers.

Students approached her from several directions, offering congratulations with surprising openness. Some were sincere in their praise of her performance. Others were less subtle, expressing relief that she was back at the top without directly saying Liam’s name.

A few did say enough for the meaning to be clear, speaking about how good it felt to have "proper leadership" again or how "things would be easier now." Sheila accepted the words with grace, but the weight behind them did not escape her.

Then, through the shifting bodies around her, she caught sight of Liam for the first time since they had returned to the academy.

He stood farther back, already turning slightly as if preparing to leave with the others heading toward the infirmary.

For a brief moment, their eyes met across the crowd.

Sheila looked at him, still surrounded by students celebrating her rise, and Liam looked back at her with that same quiet, unreadable calm he always carried.

Then he gave her a small, subtle smile.

It was barely there, almost too faint for anyone else to notice, but Sheila saw it clearly.

And she understood.

To Liam, this was not a loss.

This made everything easier.

Everything they had discussed, everything he had wanted from her, everything he had tried to position so that the class would naturally look toward her instead of him, had just become far simpler without him needing to force it.

The students already wanted her. They were ready for her. They had practically announced it with their reaction.

Sheila held his gaze for one more second, then gave the smallest nod.

Liam turned away.

Charlotte and Dylan followed almost immediately, both falling into step beside him as the flow of exhausted students began moving toward the hall’s exit. Dylan walked with the slightly uneven gait of someone trying very hard not to admit that he wanted to be carried. Charlotte, on the other hand, looked far too pleased with herself despite her own fatigue.

"You know," Dylan said, glancing back toward the crowd around Sheila, "they really did not even try to hide how much they hated you being rank one."

Charlotte laughed softly. "Oh, they hated it deeply. Painfully. Spiritually, even. The moment Sheila’s name was called, I swear half of them looked like they had just been saved from a monster under their beds."

Liam continued walking. "Good."

Dylan blinked. "Good?"

Charlotte leaned forward slightly to look at Liam’s face. "Of course he says good. Our dear gloomy prince gets demoted, humiliated with praise, and somehow decides it’s convenient. Honestly, I respect the emotional efficiency."

Liam ignored her.

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck, looking toward the exit with longing. "I do not care who is rank one right now. I want food. Real food. Soft bread. Meat that wasn’t hunted by me, burned by me, or cursed by the realm. Maybe soup. Maybe enough soup to drown in."

Charlotte sighed dreamily. "A bath first. A long bath. Warm water, scented oils, clean clothes, then food. Something rich. Something sweet. Something with cream. Then sleep on a real bed, preferably until the academy forgets we exist."

Dylan nodded solemnly. "For once, Charlotte, your priorities are beautiful."

"They are always beautiful."

"You once said stealing dessert from the first years was a survival tactic."

"It was."

Liam listened to them without joining in, though their voices filled the space around him as they moved with the rest of the students toward the infirmary. Behind him, the Eastern Grand Hall continued emptying, leaving behind fading magical light, scuffed stone floors, and the lingering tension of rankings that had shifted more than just numbers.

Within Liam’s mind, the conclusion settled quietly.

One of his problems had solved itself without him doing much at all.

Sheila had returned to rank one. The class was ready to follow her. The burden he had never wanted had shifted away naturally, exactly as he preferred.

But new problems had taken its place.

And those had been made by his own hands.