The promotion to the S-Rank Class was not a victory; it was a cage. While the F-Rank basement was a place where nobody cared if you existed, the High Tower was a place where every blink was recorded by a scrying eye.
Cassian stood before the towering double doors of Classroom 1-S. These doors weren't made of wood; they were forged from "White-Mithril," a metal that hummed when someone with high mana approached. As Cassian reached out, the doors didn't hum. They stayed silent, as if he weren't even there.
He pushed them open.
The room was a half-circle of tiered marble desks. There were only twelve seats, and ten of them were filled by the most talented first-years in the Empire. These were the "Golden Children"—the sons and daughters of Great Houses who had been eating mana-crystals since they could chew.
At the center of the front row sat Kaelen Voss.
Kaelen was the top-ranked student of the year. He had hair the color of polished steel and eyes that flickered with constant static electricity. His family, the Voss Clan, ran the Empire's Internal Security. To Kaelen, the Academy wasn't a school; it was a hierarchy, and he sat at the very top.
"The doors didn't chime," Kaelen said, not even turning around. His voice was like the crack of a whip. "That means the rumors are true. They actually let a 'Null' into the Inner Circle."
The other students—noble heirs and prodigies—turned their heads. Their expressions ranged from cold disgust to genuine confusion.
"I'm just here for the better chairs, Kaelen," Cassian said, his voice a lazy, low drawl. He walked past the mid-rows and headed straight for the back corner, the "shadow seat" where the light didn't hit.
"You don't sit in the back in 1-S, Valerius," a girl named Isolde snapped. She was a frost-mage from the North, her skin as pale as snow. "In this room, we sit in order of our mana-density. Your seat is out in the hallway. Or perhaps under the floorboards with the rest of the dregs."
Cassian didn't stop. He sat down, pulled out his soft, grey pillow, and tucked it behind his head. "The Headmaster signed the paper. If you have a problem, go tell him. I'm busy having a dream about a sandwich."
Professor Hecate appeared at the front of the room. She didn't use a chalkboard; she waved her hand, and a shimmering projection of the Academy's mana-pool appeared in the air.
"S-Rank," she began. "You are the foundation. But a foundation must be tested for cracks. Today, we test Internal Resistance."
She tapped her staff on the floor. Instantly, a heavy Gravity Field descended on the room. It was set to two-times normal gravity—not enough to kill, but enough to make a normal human's heart labor and their knees buckle.
The S-Ranks didn't flinch. They immediately flared their mana, creating internal "cushions" to protect their organs. Kaelen Voss didn't even stop writing his notes.
Cassian, however, acted. He didn't erase the gravity—that would look like a miracle. Instead, he let himself be pushed down. He slumped over his desk, his face turning a calculated shade of pale. He breathed heavily, making sure his chest labored.
Inside, he was perfectly fine. He was using a tiny, microscopic thread of Erasure to protect his heart and brain, but he let the rest of his body feel the weight. He wanted them to see him struggling. He wanted them to see a "Dud" barely hanging on.
"Mr. Valerius," Hecate said, walking up the tiers toward his desk. "You seem to be in distress. Perhaps the 'Hero' finds two-times gravity a bit much?"
"It... feels like... an elephant... is sitting on me," Cassian wheezed, wiping fake sweat from his forehead.
Kaelen let out a short, mocking laugh. "See? He's nothing. The rift was a fluke. His body is just a hollow shell that gravity passes through differently, but he has no strength."
As the class continued, Hecate increased the pressure. She wasn't just testing them; she was watching Cassian's vitals with a magical lens.
"Now," Hecate said, "we add Mana-Saturation. I am going to flood the room with raw energy. If your veins are strong, you will absorb it. If they are weak, you will feel like your blood is boiling."
A thick, golden mist filled the room. This was the real danger. For the S-Ranks, it was like a high-voltage battery charge. For a person with no mana-veins, it should have been poison.
Cassian felt the gold mist touch his skin. It burned. He didn't absorb it. He let it sit on his skin, causing small, red rashes to appear—a classic sign of "Mana Rejection" in Duds. He made sure he looked like he was in pain, his hands gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white.
"Keep it steady," he told himself. "Just a little longer. Let them think I'm breaking."
Hecate stood over him, her eyes narrowing. She saw the rashes. She saw the labored breathing. She saw a boy who was clearly suffering. But she also saw that he wasn't passing out.
"Your resilience is... unusual, Cassian," she whispered. "Most F-Ranks would have fainted five minutes ago."
"I'm... used to... being pushed around," Cassian gasped.
When the bell finally rang and the pressure vanished, the S-Ranks stood up, glowing with newfound energy. They looked down at Cassian, who was slumped over his desk, trembling.
"Pathetic," Kaelen muttered as he walked past. "You're a mascot, Valerius. A toy for the Headmaster to show off. Don't think for a second you're one of us."
Cassian didn't respond. He waited until the room was empty before he sat up. The tremors in his hands stopped instantly. The redness on his skin faded as he stopped allowing the mana to irritate his pores.
He wasn't tired. He was bored.
He stood up and picked up his books. He had successfully convinced the strongest students in his year that he was a weakling who survived on pure spite and "Null" biology.
As he walked out, he saw Lyra Thorne waiting by the pillar. She looked at his "exhausted" face and then at the way his feet moved—perfectly balanced, despite the act.
"You're a very good actor, Cassian," she whispered, falling into step beside him. "But Kaelen's father, the Head of Security, isn't going to be convinced by a few red marks on your skin. He's coming for a 'Blood Appraisal' next week."
Cassian's eyes sharpened. A blood appraisal was a deep-scan. It wouldn't just look at his mana-veins; it would look at the very fabric of his soul.
"Then we have a week to make sure my blood looks as boring as my grades," Cassian said.