The classes came in waves. Most were Normal-tier, as expected. [Enforcer]. [Warden]. [Evoker]. [Medic]. [Sentinel]. [Brawler]. The bread and butter of the adventuring world. Each one drew applause proportional to its perceived value - a [Warden] (Tank) got solid respect because tanks were always in demand. An [Evoker] (DPS, magical) got approving murmurs because ranged damage dealers anchored dungeon-clearing teams. A [Medic] (Healer) got genuine warmth because everyone wanted a Healer in their party and the class was uncommon enough to be valued.

  Then came the Rares.

  "Ashworth, Kael."

  Jace felt the shift in the room before the name finished echoing. Heads turned. Spines straightened. The Ashworth family was Iron Hold old money fused with adventuring royalty - Kael's father, Commander Gareth Ashworth, was a retired Epic-tier [Inferno Lord] who ran the Ashworth Mercenary Guild, one of the most profitable private military companies in the Free States. Kael had grown up in the Spire District with private tutors, a family training hall, and the casual assumption that greatness was his inheritance.

  He stood from the front row - of course the front row - and walked to the Stone with the unhurried confidence of someone who already knew what was coming. Tall, athletic, auburn hair that caught the light, wearing a uniform that fit like it had been tailored because it probably had been. He placed his hands on the crystal.

  The light didn't just flare. It *erupted*. Deep crimson shot through with threads of gold, so bright that students in the front rows flinched. The mana-script that formed above the Stone was larger than any that had come before, the characters edged in flickering flame:

  [BLAZE DANCER] - Rare Tier - DPS Role

  The auditorium roared.

  Not polite applause - a genuine, visceral reaction. Cheers. Whistles. The sharp intake of three hundred breaths as the implications registered. [Blaze Dancer] wasn't just Rare - it was a *prestige* Rare, a fire-aspected combat class known for devastating mobility and burst damage. It was the kind of class that recruiters fought over. The kind that got scholarship offers before the student left the auditorium.

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  Kael stepped back from the Stone and turned to face the room, and in the crimson afterglow his expression was the satisfied calm of a prophecy fulfilled. He didn't grin. He didn't need to. The Stone had said what everyone already believed: Kael Ashworth was destined for more.

  He returned to his seat and the noise gradually settled and the ceremony continued, but the temperature in the room had changed. The Rares that followed - a [Beast Tamer], an [Arcane Knight], a [Storm Caller] - each drew their own excitement, but Kael's Awakening had set the ceiling. Everyone who came after was measured against it.

  And with every name called, the alphabet crept closer to M.

  Jace sat in his seat and tried to keep his breathing even. His palms were damp. The buzzing in his chest had intensified to the point where he could feel it in his fingertips, a restless vibration that pulsed in time with the Attunement Stone's rhythm. He watched student after student approach the crystal and receive their futures in clean mana-script, and he tried to prepare himself for every outcome.

  [Skirmisher]. That would be fine. Better than fine. A sword in my hand and a clear path forward.*

  [Enforcer]. Heavy combat. My Strength isn't great, but I could build it. Torrin from the Boroughs was an [Enforcer] and he made it work.*

  [Evoker]. Long shot with my Mystical scores, but the Mana Theory grades might push it. If the Stone reads theoretical comprehension as potential-*

  [Sentinel]. Defensive class. Not glamorous, but Tanks never go hungry.*

  Any of them. He'd take any of them. He'd take the worst Normal-tier combat class on the registry and he'd grind it until the edges bled and he'd make something of it because that was the only option. The only option had always been the only option.

  "Liang, Wei."

  Six names away. Jace's heart was doing something he didn't appreciate.

  "Locke, Damien."

  Five.

  "Marlowe, Tressa."

  Four. Jace watched a broad-shouldered girl with copper skin receive [Bulwark] - Normal-tier, Tank - and walk back to her seat with the dazed expression of someone who'd just had their life's trajectory rewritten in five seconds.

  "Mercer, Cole."

  Three.

  "Merritt, Farah."

  Two.

  "Michaels, Dara."

  One.

  Jace stopped breathing.

  "Miller, Jace."