The barracks felt quieter that morning, though I knew it was only in my head. The air still stank faintly of boiled grain and sweat, boots still thudded across the yard, and sergeants still barked their usual orders. But for me, everything seemed sharper, heavier. The rankings had been posted. For three months, I had clawed my way upward, step by step, rank by rank, telling myself that breaking into the top hundred was a distant dream. And yet here I was, standing before the chalkboard nailed to the command post wall, staring at the number beside my name. A strange mix of pride and disbelief coiled in my chest. Just a few months ago, back in the fourth month, I’d barely scraped past one hundred and forty. My stats had grown since then, yes, but that wasn’t the whole story. Hours in the library poring over manuals, memorizing formations, and studying beast habits had counted just as much as raw numbers. Back then, I had been little more than average. Now, I was beginning to feel like a soldier in truth. It wasn’t dramatic, nothing like the sudden jumps of the early months, but it was steady. Solid. My agility had finally reached double digits, my strength was creeping upward, and my constitution was the highest it had ever been. More importantly, my skill levels in running, meditation, and marching had grown enough that daily training didn’t crush me the way it used to. I was still no prodigy. Still no chosen one with glowing eyes and a bloodline affinity. But I had made it. Rank 85. In the top 100. The wooden board was surrounded by recruits, all jostling and murmuring. Some grinned wide, others scowled at their placement. A few, whose names were missing altogether, walked away with pale faces. Not everyone had passed the written test, after all. Only five out of the eight who took it managed to clear the required score, and I was one of them. That alone meant something. I tore my eyes from the board and went looking for familiar faces. I found them near the mess tents: Leif, Henry, Erik, and Farid, sitting in a loose circle, boots caked with mud, half-finished bread in their hands. “So,” I asked as I dropped down beside them, “did you guys make it to the top 100?” I had aimed the question at Leif and Farid, but Erik’s face twisted immediately, as though I’d just accused him of stealing silver from my pockets. “Why would I want that?” Erik snapped, practically spitting crumbs. “Honestly, I don’t even know why you lot care. Top 100? It’s a death trap. If it were up to me, I’d spend my whole life behind the safety of Stonegate’s walls. No shame in that.” Leif chuckled, shaking his head. “You say that now, Erik, but we both know you’d be bored stiff in a month. Anyway, yeah, I got it. Rank 70. Top 100’s the best place to be if you want to break through to a strong Tier 2 class, maybe even Tier 3.” I nodded, allowing myself a small smile. “I also made it. Rank 85.” Then I looked over at Farid. He sighed and shrugged. “Missed it by five, ranked 105. But honestly? I’m not too sad about it. I talked to one of the privates in logistics. He told me as long as I get a scout-related class, I can still join the Scout Division. The only difference is I won’t be posted at a frontier fort for the first six months. Instead, I’ll be stationed here in Stonegate.” “Yeah, that’s what I heard too,” I said, leaning back against the tent pole. “The only real benefit of getting into the top 100 is early posting at the fort.” ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⟡𝕗𝗂𝗋𝖾⟡𝕟𝕖𝕥 “Don’t forget,” Erik added with a sly grin, “early posting also means earning mana crystals. You think I wouldn’t notice that?” I laughed softly. “True enough.” Money hadn’t been on my mind much, but I couldn’t deny the appeal. Mana crystals meant better weapons, enchanted armor, maybe even a few luxuries like improved rations or access to higher-grade training gear. And deep down, some part of me, the part that remembered my old world’s technology, ached to see what this world’s magic-driven engineering looked like. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. That was why I had chosen the support path. Rune Operations first, then Field Sappers & Siege Tech. “Hey, did you all get information about your specialization?” I asked, leaning forward. “I’m having second thoughts about mine. I put down Rune Operations first, then Field Sappers & Siege Tech. They’ve already told us how it’s going to work. The first fifteen days? Just reading. No instructors, no demonstrations, just us buried in manuals until the exam. Same goes for Siege Tech later. Two weeks of study before they even let us touch a mana trigger. If we don’t pass those tests, we get shifted to another specialization, no appeal.” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to sound as uneasy as I felt. “Rune Operations itself is mostly maintenance. Basic stuff to make us qualified enough to keep things running in the middle of a battle, shields, weapons, armor, even carts and torchlights. Emergency work too. Like if a shield ward cracks mid-fight, I’d be expected to carve a quick rune on the fly, just enough to hold until the line stabilizes. Useful, sure, but it all sounds like the bare minimum. Just patchwork.” Farid gave a low whistle, but I kept going. “Then the Sappers & Siege Tech block picks up. That one’s heavier: demolition charges, mostly alchemical satchels and rune-primed packs for breaking walls or gates. We’ll drill the basics of handling: timing, mana triggers, stabilizers, just enough so we don’t blow ourselves up. They’ll also run us through simple principles: weight, balance, and how to read when a structure’s about to give way. Later on we’ll get into coordination, when to set charges or signal the stone-throwers and bolt crews so volleys land in step with the infantry push. There’s a counter-siege unit too, where they show us how to disrupt the enemy’s siege works, cutting torsion ropes, fouling tracks, silencing crews.” Erik leaned back with a grin. “Hey, that sounds fun. You think they’ll let me sleep through the first fifteen days of your class?” “Sure,” I deadpanned, “but only if you pass the academic exam first.” He snorted, and Henry laughed, shaking his head. I blew out a breath and tried to smile. The truth was, the work itself didn’t scare me. What unsettled me was the thought of sitting there for two weeks without an instructor, trying to make sense of scraps of theory on my own. If this was so important, why wouldn’t they assign us a proper teacher? What if I misunderstood something critical in those manuals? And even if I passed, it all felt so… basic. Maintenance, patch jobs, simple charges. I wanted to see real engineering, to compare it to the fragments of memory I still carried from before. But if all I got was surface-level tinkering, would that chance ever come? Still, even if it meant drowning in ink and chisels, I couldn’t turn away. This was my only doorway into the kind of knowledge I craved. “Alright,” I said, standing and brushing crumbs from my lap. “I’m heading to the library. See you guys this evening.” The library was nearly empty when I stepped inside, the quiet broken only by the faint scratching of quills and the occasional cough. Rows of shelves, mostly filled with basic military manuals, looked as familiar as the back of my hand by now. I had read nearly everything worth reading twice. That was when I noticed her. She was walking toward me. For months she’d kept to herself, speaking only when spoken to, her focus entirely on training and books. She had never once approached me first. Until now. “Hey,” I said, a little surprised. “Hey.” Her voice was calm, but there was something new in her eyes. “I just wanted to let you know, I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ve been called to join the count’s household. My Awakening is in one month, and… well, in a strange way, you might be the closest thing I’ve had to a friend here.” I blinked, caught between surprise and a strange emptiness. “Ah. Well… congratulations. Best of luck with your future. I’ll miss all the books you used to recommend.” A faint smile curved her lips. “You have a good academic aptitude, Edward. Your progress has been steady. If you become an elite soldier by the time you retire, and if I manage to carve out a place within the count’s house, I might be able to offer you a recommendation.” There was no arrogance in her tone, though her words carried the quiet pride of someone who knew her path was set. She wasn’t offering charity, she was offering what she believed was a gift. “Thank you,” I said after a pause. “I’m sure you’ll do great there. And who knows, someday I might come knocking for that recommendation. It means a lot that you’d even offer.” For the first time since I’d met her, her smile reached her eyes. We didn’t talk after that. We simply returned to the shelves, side by side, reading in silence until the sun dipped low. I reread manuals I had already committed to memory, chasing the last drops of knowledge this library could offer. My goal was simple now: push my Reading and Writing to Level 25. If nothing else, that would be my anchor in the storm of specialization training. When the lamps were finally extinguished, I stepped outside into the cool night. The sky above Stonegate glimmered with faint stars, dimmed by the smoke of countless campfires. Tomorrow would begin a new schedule. A new phase. Specialization Training Schedule I stared at the paper pinned to my bunk, memorizing the hours, the blocks, the lines that would shape the next five months of my life. The routine looked harsh and unyielding, but it was also clear. Tomorrow, new challenges awaited, and I was ready to face them.