Rias, of course, chose to ignore the comment, continuing in what seemed to be a deliberately neutral tone. “These are the overall scores for all classes, including Class A.” With that, he unfurled a large sheet of paper and pinned it to the wall behind him. Despite their confusion over why Rias hadn’t simply announced Class A’s scores as he’d done with the others, the students waited with bated breath as he pushed the last pin in and stepped aside.
Overall Scores
Class E
Arrival Order: 4th Place (100 points)
Difficulty Level 10, Completion Rate 90%
Overall Score: 900 Points
Class D
Arrival Order: 2nd Place (150 points)
Difficulty Level 12, Completion Rate 60%
Overall Score: 1,080 Points
Class C
Arrival Order: 3rd Place (125 points)
Difficulty Level 14, Completion Rate 80%
Overall Score: 1,400 Points
Class B
Arrival Order: 1st Place (200 points)
Difficulty Level 16, Completion Rate 85%
Overall Score: 2,720 Points
Class A
Arrival Order: 5th Place (50 points)
Difficulty Level 65, Completion Rate 140%
Overall Score: 4,550 Points*
No one spoke at first, but the collective, unspoken bewilderment felt almost deafening.
Connie glanced toward the huddled Class A students. To his surprise, they seemed entirely uninterested in the posted results. In fact, Jewel and Fey—apparently extremely eager to pay a visit to the hot springs—were currently pushing one another out of the way in their effort to be first out of the hall, fresh change of clothes already in hand.
“That’s... That’s not fair, Mr. Rias! A difficulty level of 65 is insane! Class A shouldn’t get an advantage just because they’ve got Allen and Leo! We never had a chance of beating them!”
Connie’s protest was entirely justified, and if he hadn’t raised the issue, one of the other students would have surely done so.
“It’s perfectly reasonable for you to feel that way, Connie, but let me explain,” Rias replied gently. “Originally, the difficulty of Class A’s scenarios was set at level 25. The other members of the faculty—myself included—implored Sage Godolphen to reduce it. We all thought it was far too high for a first-year class, and that they’d never manage to complete their assigned scenarios... We were wrong, however. Class A completed their first scenario as though it was mere child’s play, and gained almost nothing valuable from the experience. At that point, the Sage deemed it necessary to adjust the difficulty of their scenarios, thus resulting in the astounding level you see here. However...” Rias paused, fixing Connie with a steely gaze. “The Royal Academy camp is not some leisurely affair where we teachers hand out points like candy, young man. Their score is not the result of one or two particularly talented individuals, but proof of their excellence as a group. You all should understand that, having just overcome similar challenges of your own.”
Connie didn’t reply, and Rias then turned to address the remaining members of Class A. “Now, I’m sure some of you might disagree with your score—despite it being the highest in Academy history—but I’ll ask you to hold off on your complaints for the moment. As you might already be aware, the symbol next to your overall score indicates that our final decision is still pending.” He sighed. “To tell the truth, the other teachers and I were up all night discussing your score, but we couldn’t come to a consensus. However, we all agreed that the current score is too low. For the time being, we calculated your score based on the absolute minimum values of the respective criteria, pending careful analysis once we return to the Academy. Your true score will be much higher—of that, I am certain.”
There were no further words of protest from Class B, with their discontent giving way to disbelief upon hearing Rias’s explanation that Class A’s score—as astounding as it already was—was merely the minimum reflection of their efforts. An uncomfortable tension hung over the hall until finally, Alice Masculin, the unofficial “representative” of Class B, began to clap, muttering her congratulations through gritted teeth. Alice had pushed herself as much as anyone over the week, if not more; it hadn’t been easy to unite the strong-willed members of Class B under a common goal. Her efforts had been perhaps the most integral contribution to the exceptional score they’d received, and therefore, her frustration was only natural.
Alice’s acquiescent applause triggered a roaring ovation.
“Congratulations!”
“Seriously, how can I complain when your score’s that crazy? I don’t have a leg to stand on!”
“What the hell did you have to do in your scenarios to get a difficulty level like that?”
“Yeah, good on you for making it back alive!”
“That’s why you’re all in Class A, after all!”
Alice stared at the huddled Class A students, who still seemed almost indifferent despite the flood of praise being heaped upon them. Had things unfolded just a little differently, she would have been standing among their number. With her results in the mock exams, Alice’s place in Class A had been all but guaranteed. Allen Rovene had surprised everyone with his sudden appearance and his temporary (and then permanent) assignment to Class A, but Alice’s failure to secure her own place within that elite group had shocked them more.
If only I’d gotten just one more question right, she often thought. If only I’d scored just a little higher on the practical exam. If only Allen hadn’t materialized out of thin air like a phantom.
Of course, those “if onlys” meant nothing now. The Royal Academy’s entrance exams were long over, but Alice’s regrets had yet to fade. Perhaps they never would.
Fueled by the pain of what could have been, Alice had thrown herself into her studies each and every day. She’d tackled the scenarios with every last fiber of her being, and once again, she’d lost—yet strangely, she felt no regret this time. No hypotheticals dwelled in the darkest recesses of her mind. She’d given it her all. She was frustrated, yes, but that frustration would serve as further fuel on her journey of growth.
I have to keep improving.
And so, with unwavering conviction and burning determination in her heart, Alice clapped. For now, she’d be gracious in defeat—and one day, when she was standing among them, she’d be just as gracious in victory. Even as the applause began to die down, and the scene before her began to blur, Alice didn’t stop clapping until the very end.
Of course, if Alice was to rise into the glory of Class A, it would mean one among those twenty prodigies would need to fall. That was the rule—a rule as inflexible and unyielding as iron itself.
✦ ✦ ✦
Ultimately, it was decided that evaluating Class A’s accurate score was impossible.
Their tentative score, however, was as follows:
Class A
Arrival Order: 5th Place (50 points)
Difficulty Level 82, Completion Rate 160%
Overall Score: 6,560 Points
Their score—while unofficial—defied all common sense. Obviously, it was the highest score in Academy history by far.
However, the faculty’s deliberations didn’t end there. Some argued that only the official scenarios should be taken into account for the scoring. If Class A (or more specifically, Allen Rovene) had simply accepted Godolphen’s initial declaration of defeat, their group surely would have been the first to arrive at the Vanquish estate—and if they had, their score would have been something along the lines of:
Class A
Arrival Order: 1st Place (200 points)
Difficulty Level 70, Completion Rate 150%
Overall Score: 21,000 Points
Naturally, the idea of permitting such an astronomical score was preposterous, and the faculty unanimously concluded that evaluating Class A per the conventional scoring algorithm was not within the realm of possibility. In the first place, their previously dependable algorithm worked on the basis that a completion rate higher than one hundred percent was unobtainable, with a class’s ultimate score based on inevitable deductions from that perfect result. The fact that the Class A students had easily surpassed the maximum score the faculty had conceived for each respective scenario indicated a problem with the design of the scenarios themselves, thus rendering accurate evaluation unachievable.
Furthermore, while the incredibly astonished faculty members were able to evaluate Vesta’s fortress compound to some extent by referencing the detailed blueprints, they had no means of analyzing other elements in Class A’s success—such as Leo’s spellsword, Jewel’s zone healing spell, and the mysterious paralytic agent used by Allen Rovene—and therefore, no grounds on which to base any related scores. In any case, the immediate classification of said elements at clearance level 4 (equivalent to that of military secrets) prevented them from accessing any further details regardless.
“Our score...? Who gives a crap about something like that? Score us however you like—I don’t care.” Thus had spoken Allen Rovene. Amid overflowing confidence, there had also been a challenge within those words: “What, you think you can measure us with your yardstick? Go ahead and try.”
And try they did, only for their attempt to end in a result that would have put any educational institution—much less the Royal Academy—to shame: an unthinkable “Unable to Evaluate.” Thus, for the first time in history, the kingdom’s most prestigious school received a failing mark on the basis of educational competency, stamped and signed with the blood, sweat, and tears of the 1,127th Class 1-A.