Power doesn't always explode.
Sometimes, it waits.
Sometimes… it smiles.
It was supposed to be a "remedial match."
A casual lesson.
Two mid-tier C-rank students against one F-rank failure.
Kirito Valen.
Professor Aldreth clicked her staff against the ground. "Mr. Valen, you've had... disciplinary warnings. Apathy in class. No participation."
Kirito tilted his head, bored. "I was listening."
"And yet, we've seen no proof you can even use mana."
He smiled. "Is that a request?"
She glared. "You'll face them in the ring. No holding back."
Kirito yawned. "Wasn't planning to."
The students watching weren't expecting a fight.
They were expecting humiliation.
Some even brought popcorn.
Because Kirito — despite his sharp eyes and ice-cold aura — had never shown a single ounce of magic. Never trained in public. Never even broke a sweat.
He was a background character in his own story.
Until now.
The match started.
Two C-rankers. One with wind blades, the other with aura chains.
Kirito didn't move.
The first spell cut toward him.
And just before it hit—
He tripped.
Landed flat.
The crowd laughed.
The spell missed by inches and hit the arena wall.
The other student threw the chains.
Kirito sat up just in time and rolled under them.
"Damn it—just die!" one of them shouted.
They rushed in together.
And that's when Kirito turned his head—
Just slightly.
The temperature dropped.
No spell.
No sigils.
But the chains stopped moving.
The wind blades froze mid-air.
The crowd blinked.
The professors stood.
Because something unseen had shifted.
Not pressure.
Not bloodlust.
Something deeper.
Space.
Kirito stood up slowly.
"I hate being loud," he muttered.
"Let silence scream."
The ground cracked beneath him.
A ripple of pure distortion spread from his feet.
The chains shattered.
The wind spell inverted — turning back toward its caster.
Both opponents fell back, screaming, clutching their heads.
They couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Kirito wasn't glowing.
He wasn't transformed.
But he walked through the arena like it bowed under his steps.
One of the C-rankers tried to crawl away.
Kirito knelt beside him and whispered, too soft to hear.
Whatever he said made the boy faint.
In the observation room, a professor's tea cup shattered.
Another backed away from the scrying orb.
"What... What rank is he?"
The Head Examiner just whispered:
"The Crown Holder."
Later that night—
Ash tossed a book at Kirito's bed. "Nice job. You managed to make being terrifying look like an accident."
Kirito shrugged. "I only used 1%."
Ash grinned. "Of your power?"
Kirito raised an eyebrow. "Of my patience."
They both laughed.
Then fell quiet.
Ash looked out the window, voice low.
"They're watching us."
Kirito leaned back, hands behind his head.
"They can watch."
"But they won't see anything until it's too late."
Meanwhile, across campus:
Seraphina stood before the Student Council again.
"He's not F-rank."
Lysander leaned forward. "Neither of them are."
"Then why do we let them play this game?"
Seraphina's eyes narrowed.
"Because we don't know how many pieces are on the board yet."
And deep inside her—
Not fear.
Not doubt.
But something else.
Something that bloomed like flame under her skin.
She didn't like Ash.
Not yet.
But she couldn't look away.
And that terrified her more than anything.