ShadowBound: The Need For Power Chapter 650: The First-Ranked Student

This ti the reaction ca with more audible feeling behind it.

There were groans.

Actual groans.

Not loud enough to disrupt the ceremony, but noticeable enough to reveal exactly how many people had opinions about that na.

Because if Chris was difficult to like, then Asher was in so ways even worse.

Hot-tempered.

Sharp-tongued.

Loud whenever irritated.

And sohow capable of becoming irritated by nearly anything.

A large portion of the student body had, at one point or another, found him deeply annoying. So outright hated his guts. He was the kind of person who could make enemies without even trying, simply by existing in the sa space as others with that arrogant, abrasive edge to him.

And yet...

When it ca to actual combat, those complaints faded fast.

Because Asher Hawthorne was no joke.

Everyone had seen that much clearly two days ago.

His victory over Chris had not rely been a win.

It had been a statent.

The way he had knocked Chris out had reminded everyone present that Asher’s place among the top ranks was not built on noise or ego alone. Yes, his blue flas gave him an obvious advantage in terms of intimidation and destructive force, but by now many students understood sothing important.

The flas were not what made Asher strong... Asher made the flas strong.

His aggression, instincts, control, and sheer ferocity in battle were what gave his affinity its terrifying edge. The blue fire was only part of the equation. The real reason he belonged this high was because he himself was dangerous.

Mystica let the applause and uneasy reaction intermingle for a few seconds before speaking.

"Asher Hawthorne," she said, "recognized for overwhelming combat intensity, exceptional control of offensive force, and the kind of battle presence few can afford to underestimate."

Asher rose from his seat with his usual air of restrained irritation, looking as though even being acknowledged publicly was sothing he found mildly inconvenient. Still, there was sothing in the set of his shoulders that suggested he accepted the ranking.

He sat back down without fanfare.

And then only two nas remained.

At that point, the mood in Beacon Hall shifted again.

Because now the whole student body—first-years, second-years, and even the third-years—understood exactly what the final question was.

Who would be rank one?

And who would be rank two?

By now most students had narrowed it down to the sa two people.

Sheila Granger.

And Liam Hunter.

The first was the princess of Crescent, the student who had entered the academy as rank one, the girl many had long considered the most naturally gifted of the year. Her talent was undeniable. Her command over her affinities was remarkable. And even with the rumors about tension between her and Percy, many still compared her to her brother constantly, saying Sheila had the potential to beco just like him—

Or perhaps even surpass him.

The second was Liam.

The boy whose true identity had only recently beco known to the wider academy.

The dark mage.

The one most of the student body despised with instinctive disgust.

The one who wielded both darkness and fire.

The one who had revealed power, skill, and traits that many students had never even imagined witnessing in a peer.

And the one who had defeated Percy Granger in open combat.

The hall was so quiet now that even the shifting of fabric and the faint movent of chairs seed loud.

Mystica, of course, noticed exactly how much they were hanging on this.

So she did what Mystica Moonstone naturally would.

She entertained herself by letting the silence stretch.

She looked across the hall as if weighing the nas in her mind, even though the result was obviously already decided.

She allowed speculation to swell just a little more.

And then, finally, she spoke.

"Rank two..."

The pause was brief.

"...Sheila Granger."

That nearly shocked the entire student body.

This ti the stir in the hall was not subtle.

A clear wave of disbelief spread across the first-years and beyond. So students went still. Others looked sharply toward Sheila as though trying to confirm they had heard correctly.

Because to many of them, Sheila dropping to second was almost harder to process than anything else.

Sheila was known.

More than known.

She was well respected and admired.

Often discussed in the sa breath as Percy whenever talent ca up.

Her brilliance had never really been in question. Even students who envied her or resented her status still tended to acknowledge that she was gifted on a level few others in the year could match.

And so, for many, the idea that she had fallen from the rank one position she held when they first enrolled was difficult to accept.

A lot of assumptions quietly broke in that mont.

But Sheila herself did not seem especially disturbed by it.

Seated beside Ariana, she looked calm—almost unsurprised.

And perhaps that made sense.

If anyone was in a position to understand why this had happened, it was probably Sheila herself.

Even if she had perford strongly during the survival trials and whatever followed in the group evaluation, the combat phase had likely weighed against her more than people realized. She had fought De’Ain.

And she had lost.

Whether that fully defined the ranking or not, it still mattered.

Applause slowly began to rise.

Strong and respectful.

Perhaps touched with surprise, but still sincere.

Mystica acknowledged her with practiced grace.

"Sheila Granger," she said, "recognized for extraordinary talent, exceptional versatility, and a standard of excellence that continues to distinguish you from nearly all of your peers."

Sheila stood gracefully and acknowledged the recognition, her posture composed, her face calm, then sat back down once more.

And now everyone knew.

They knew before Mystica even said it.

They knew because there was only one na left.

One na that hung over the hall like a truth many did not want to hear spoken aloud.

Mystica let them sit with it for only a mont.

Then she delivered the final result.

"And the first-ranked student of the first-year class..."

Her voice remained smooth.

"...Liam Hunter."

For a split second, Beacon Hall seed to freeze.

Not taphorically.

Truly.

It was as if the entire student body had forgotten how to react.

Faces stilled.

Eyes widened.

Thoughts halted.

Because no matter how much many of them had suspected it... hearing it made it real.

A dark mage.

The student they hated.

The one they looked at with revulsion.

The one whose very existence offended the teachings so many of them had grown up with.

He was the one standing at the top of them all.

And that truth hit the hall like cold iron.

It was not that they didn’t understand why.

That was what made it worse.

Because deep down, beneath the hatred, beneath the prejudice, beneath the instinctive rejection they felt toward him...

They knew... Liam deserved it.

What had solidified that truth more than anything—even if Mystica had clearly stated that the sparring and combat alone did not define the rankings—was the duel with Percy.

Liam had defeated Percy Granger.

Fairly.

That single fact had broken sothing in the collective assumptions of the student body.

And beyond that, there were the evaluations themselves. Those who had been unfortunate—or fortunate—enough to encounter Liam during the survival phases already understood what kind of monster he was when forced into that environnt. Those few outside his circle who truly knew had long since accepted it.

Liam was terrifyingly efficient.

In survival.

In battle.

In adaptation.

In decision-making.

In raw capability.

And on top of that, he wielded not one affinity, but two—fire and darkness—and had displayed abilities that many of the students present would likely never witness again in soone their own age.

So even if hatred roared in their chests...

Even if disgust twisted in their stomachs...

Even if they wanted to reject it...

They could not honestly deny it.

Liam Hunter deserved to be rank one.

Far back among the first-years, Liam rose from his seat only because courtesy and ceremony required it. There was no pride in his expression. No interest. No satisfaction. He stood because it was expected and because failing to do so would only attract more unnecessary attention than he already despised.

He looked completely indifferent to the entire thing.

And that sohow made it even more jarring.

Mystica watched the hall.

Then, after a brief pause, one elegant brow rose.

"How curious," she said in her usual smooth tone.

That broke the frozen silence just enough for attention to shift toward her again.

"There appears to be no applause."

Her words were light.

Almost conversational.

Which made the sting of them worse.

Mystica’s lips curved faintly.

"Now, now," she continued, violet eyes sweeping lazily over the crowd. "Surely all of you know better than to allow your personal feelings to interfere with the acknowledgnt of truth."

No one spoke.

No one would dare.

She smiled just a little more.

"You need not like reality," she said. "But you will, at the very least, learn to recognize it."

That did it.

Applause began.

Not all at once.

Not warmly.

Not naturally.

But it ca.

First scattered, then broader, until the hall was finally filled with the sound it should have given from the start. It lacked the sincerity that had greeted so of the others, but it was there. Respect, however forced, had been dragged out of them.

The mont it began in full, Liam sat back down.

Internally, his irritation was imdiate.

’Great,’ he thought flatly. ’My life after this is about to beco far more vexing than it already was.’

And with the stupid ranking now made official before the entire academy...

He knew that was only going to get worse.