The door to A-Class felt heavier than it should have been.
I pushed it open anyway, stepping into what could only be described as a room full of people who knew they were better than me. The conversations didn't stop immediately, but they tapered off into subtle chatter. Eyes turned toward me, some curious, most dismissive. A few looked downright offended that I was breathing the same air.
The classroom itself was bigger than the others I'd seen. High ceilings, tall windows that let in way too much natural light, desks that looked hand-carved from expensive wood. Everything screamed prestige. Everything screamed you don't belong here.
I spotted Malachi near the back, his blonde hair was cut close, the pale strands kept in place. He looked up when I entered and I looked away instantly.
Kai sat a few rows ahead of him, arms crossed, posture rigid. He embodied every bit of the proud warrior type, all muscle and discipline. He didn't even glance my way, but I could feel the judgment radiating off him anyway.
And then there was Serena.
She sat near the front, surrounded by a small cluster of girls who hung on her every word. Her uniform was immaculate and her ginger hair perfectly styled (I don't think I've ever seen her hair without a complex style. I weep for her attendants). When she saw me, her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Oh, look," she said, voice dripping with false sweetness. "The charity case finally arrived."
Her friends giggled. I kept walking, found an empty desk near the middle, and sat down. My bag hit the floor with a dull thud.
"I wonder if she even knows what A-Class means," Serena continued, louder now. "Maybe she thinks the 'A' stands for 'anyone can join.'"
More laughter. I pulled out my notebook and a pen, flipping to a blank page. The gossip around me grew louder, but I focused on the grain of the wooden desk, tracing the patterns with my eyes.
"Do you think she'll cry when she realizes how outclassed she is?"
I didn't look up. Didn't react. Serena could talk until her voice gave out for all I cared.
The door opened again, and the room fell silent. This time, it was immediate.
A woman walked in, tall with delicate features, with silver hair pulled back into a severe bun. Her robes were deep purple, embroidered with gold thread that caught the light. She moved with the kind of authority that made everyone sit up straighter without being told.
"Good morning," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "I am Professor Winifer Ashford, and I will be overseeing A-Class this year."
She set a stack of papers on her desk and turned to face us, hands clasped behind her back.
"I understand you've all completed the tour and orientation, but there are certain aspects of Arethia University that require more detailed explanation. Consider this your proper introduction to how things work here."
Someone in the front row raised their hand, but Professor Ashford ignored them.
"First, let's discuss the star ranking system. I'm sure you're all familiar with your own rankings, but understanding the full spectrum is essential." She waved her hand, and a shimmering chart appeared in the air above her desk, numbers and categories glowing faintly.
"Zero stars equals zero units, meaning magic present. These individuals are non-magical and will not be attending this university." Her eyes swept across the room, and I felt the weight of several stares on me. "One star ranges from one to five hundred units. One-point-five stars covers five hundred and one to eight hundred units. Two stars is eight hundred and one to one thousand units."
I wrote it down, keeping my face straight.
"Two-point-five stars spans one thousand and one to one thousand two hundred units. Three stars ranges from one thousand and one to one thousand two hundred units. Three-point-five stars is one thousand two hundred and one to one thousand four hundred units."
The chart shifted, numbers rearranging themselves.
"Four stars covers one thousand four hundred and one to one thousand six hundred units. Four-point-five stars spans one thousand six hundred and one to one thousand eight hundred and fifty units. Five stars is one thousand eight hundred and fifty-one to two thousand one hundred units."
Professor Ashford paused, letting us catch up. My hand cramped slightly from writing so fast.
"Five-point-five stars: two thousand one hundred and one to two thousand four hundred units. Six stars: two thousand four hundred and one to two thousand seven hundred units. Six-point-five stars: two thousand seven hundred and one to two thousand nine hundred units. Seven stars: two thousand nine hundred and one to three thousand one hundred units. Seven-point-five stars: three thousand one hundred and one to three thousand three hundred units."
The numbers blurred together on the page. I blinked, refocusing.
"Eight stars ranges from three thousand three hundred and one to three thousand five hundred units. Eight-point-five stars is three thousand five hundred and one to three thousand seven hundred units. Nine stars covers three thousand seven hundred and one to three thousand nine hundred units. Nine-point-five stars spans three thousand nine hundred and one to four thousand one hundred units. And finally, ten stars is anything above four thousand one hundred and one units."
The chart vanished. Professor Ashford turned back to us, expression unreadable.
"Class placement is determined by a combination of your star ranking, combat ability, magical aptitude, and potential for growth. A-Class represents the top tier, students who have demonstrated exceptional skill or possess significant power. B-Class consists of above-average students with strong abilities. C-Class is for average students with standard magical capabilities. D-Class houses below-average students who require additional training. And E-Class is reserved for those who barely meet the academy's entrance requirements."
She let that sink in. I could feel the smugness radiating from half the room.
"You are in A-Class because the academy believes you have what it takes to excel. Do not prove us wrong."
The rest of the lecture covered first-year courses; Combat Theory & Practical, Magical Applications, History of Astra, Alchemy, Elemental Studies, Strategic Warfare, and Physical Conditioning. Each class was mandatory, each one designed to push us to our limits.
When Professor Ashford finally dismissed us, I gathered my things slowly, waiting for the rush of students to clear out. No point in getting trampled by people who already hated me.
I was almost to the door when someone stepped in front of me.
Kai.
He crossed his arms, and I stopped walking.
"You don't belong here," he said. No preamble, no politeness, No "Hey Amara". Just blunt rudeness.
I stared at him, waiting.
"A-Class is for warriors. Mages. People who can actually fight, who have power worth training." He looked annoyed. "You're weak. No combat ability, no magic. You're going to get yourself killed, or worse, get someone else killed because they have to protect you."
The words should've stung, but in my defense, I never asked for his help. And I never needed anyone's protection.
"Are you done?" I asked, voice flat.
His eyes narrowed. "I'm serious. You—"
"Kai."
Malachi appeared beside him, hand on Kai's shoulder. The touch was casual and familiar. Childhood friends, I realized. The way they stood, the ease in Malachi's grip, the way Kai immediately tensed but didn't pull away, they must have known each other for years.
"That's enough," Malachi said quietly.
Kai's jaw worked, but he stepped back. "You know I'm right."
"Maybe. But this isn't the way." Malachi's eyes shifted to me, softer now. "Are you okay?"
I looked at him, at the real concern in his expression, and gave absolutely nothing.
"Fine," I said. That was so monotone. Nice job, Amara.
"If you need help with anything... classes, training, whatever... just let me know. I'm serious."
"Sure."
I walked past them both, found an empty bench in the hallway, and sat down. My book was in my bag, the one I'd been reading last night. I pulled it out, flipped to my bookmarked page, and started reading.
Footsteps approached, then stopped. I didn't look up.
"Amara—"
"I'm good, Malachi. Thanks."
Silence. Then, quietly, "Okay."
He walked away. I turned the page, eyes scanning words I wasn't really processing.
From somewhere nearby, I felt it, that prickling sensation of being watched. I glanced up, just for a second.
Serena stood at the end of the hallway, perfectly still. Her friends had scattered, leaving her alone. And the look on her face...
Pure hatred.
Her eyes burned with it, fixed on me with an intensity that would've been scary if I had the energy to let it matter. Her hands were clenched at her sides, knuckles white.
I held her gaze for a moment, then looked back down at my book.