"Now, we will be showing those who placed for eleventh to twentieth. Hatcheteer, please step forward and receive your prize and to honor of being the named disciples of Radeon Terraces."
Hatcheteer climbed the stage and received a finely made wooden token, rich enough in craft to feel luxurious in his hand.
He was the oldest among those gathered, only a few days shy of thirty.
Born to a family of timbermen, he had lived a decent enough life, steady and honest, yet some part of him had always believed he was meant for more.
He could be greater than this. He could become something else. And now, with that key resting in his palm, the thought no longer felt like a foolish dream.
The audience got excited. This was what they had been waiting for.
The real names. The real cuts. Eldric had not displayed a full ranking list, and it was no accident.
Less than a percent would ever touch cultivation in a way that mattered, not because the talent was rare, but because the choosing was.
