SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 523: Recognition

The four directors advanced onto the balcony.

Eryndor.

Selara.

Kaelen.

Althea.

Just their appearance sufficed to restore calm in the hall once more. Hundreds of first-year students had been chatting chaotically in the recent minutes, hunting for known faces, evaluating rivals, predicting positions prior to the reveal, yet all that buzz faded instantly when these four showed up overlooking the gathering.

Kaelen moved to the forefront initially.

He didn't have to demand silence. The whole hall fell quiet naturally, as though all understood that from now on, no one's guesses counted. Only the actual outcomes would.

"Congratulations, students," Kaelen declared, his words echoing clearly across the vast hall. "Once your grades appear, passers will complete their first year. Then comes a one-month break before second year starts."

Not a soul interrupted.

Certain students straightened up. Some gulped softly. Though the balcony loomed distant from the hall floor, its oppressive weight pressed down on every person effortlessly.

"Before viewing your results," Kaelen went on, "I want to add this: let no setback overwhelm you. Some exceeded expectations. Others fell short and will see it plainly in their scores."

He allowed the room a brief pause to absorb it before continuing.

"You hail from varied origins. Diverse houses. Unique bloodlines. Distinct families. Yet in this Academy, grades depend not on your family name. No student holds less value here. Everyone received identical resources to succeed."

This statement landed differently across the hall based on the listener.

For some, comfort flowed from it.

For others, particularly those riding privileges from prestigious lineages without earning them, it rang like a stern caution.

Kaelen remained indifferent to their reactions.

"I also wish to thank you all," he stated. "For joining us this year and selecting this Academy for your studies."

A subtle hesitation followed.

"Now, grades for all first-year students will display."

Tension surged through the hall anew.

Kaelen lifted one hand.

"Projections will show them simultaneously for all to see. Failures to advance will demand greater effort. Still, a last opportunity awaits to redeem shortcomings."

With that, Kaelen grew silent and raised his hand higher.

Azure glow erupted midair.

A massive projection expanded overhead, ethereal and radiant, crowding the space under the vaulted ceiling with names sorted by rank. Hundreds of students craned necks skyward together, rippling motion through the crowd as each hunted their spot in the list.

Trafalgar glanced at it momentarily and grasped it at once.

'Full worldwide ranking.'

Kaelen's voice resounded from on high once more. "As you know, no grades separate by category. Totals combine into one overall score. Positions reflect total performance."

No further clarification proved necessary.

The hall erupted vibrantly again, but now the clamor sharpened, intensified, bordered on desperate. Students scanned for their names, allies', foes'. Quick finds brought ease. Prolonged searches blanched faces.

Far above, Selara tilted toward Althea, mischief sparkling in her features.

"What, hunting for your boy?" she murmured. "Too bad Kaelen blocked you from grading his work, handing it to teachers entirely, right?"

Althea showed zero shame.

"You know I'd never tamper with a student's grade," she responded, voice steady and grave.

Selara chuckled softly.

"Sure, sure, you're forever so rigidly proper." Her smile widened glancing at Althea's expression. "But that look betrays you completely. Just a mom wishing her son shone. Perfectly natural. No teasing from me afterward."

She halted briefly, relishing the moment.

"Won't let Eryndor either."

That drew a sharp sideways glare from Althea at last, by which time she'd spotted her target.

Xavier au Roquefort.

Twenty-second position.

Amid hundreds of first-year students, her adopted son ranked twenty-second globally.

A subtle shift flickered across her face, hard to catch yet glaring once spotted. Satisfaction lingered there, true enough, but rising sharper was a warmer, deeper feeling. Pride, that maternal spark no mother can mask as skillfully as she thinks.

Selara spotted it and grinned like she'd snagged a small yet delightful prize.

Below, Trafalgar and his companions scanned the projection as well.

Bartholomew spotted a known name first.

"I-I’ve found you, Cy-cynthia," he stammered, raising a hand faintly as though a mere point could solidify the ranking. "You’re sixty seventh. That’s really good."

Cynthia blinked.

For an instant, real shock overtook the tough look she'd held since the results began showing. Passing was what she'd anticipated. Ranking so high among countless students? That she hadn't foreseen.

Trafalgar glanced at the projection and gave a faint nod. "Not bad."

He offered no more, yet from him, those words held enough force to make Cynthia stand a touch taller.

She stayed silent. Instead, her eyes swept the list again, soon landing on another name.

"There," she announced, facing her brother with far less reserve than he'd have liked. "Barth, that’s you. Thirty first."

Bartholomew went rigid.

Red flooded his cheeks right away—not from displeasure at the outcome, but from the reactions sparking around him.

Cynthia appeared truly delighted.

Xavier let out a noise blending laughter and a cheer.

Even Zafira offered him a brief nod, her version of acclaim.

Bartholomew handled monsters better than such scrutiny. He stood frozen, like he'd been thrust into the scene by mistake.

By that point, though, one fact stood out inescapably.

Neither Trafalgar’s name nor Zafira’s had shown up yet.

The list continued scrolling.

Lower-ranked students had already flashed by. Names kept vanishing upward as the display climbed to elite spots, and each ticking moment sharpened the truth.

The top ten emerged.

No Trafalgar still.

No Zafira.

No Alfons.

The hall's atmosphere shifted once more. It didn't burst out wildly, but tightened. Those who'd located their spots now fixed on something new. Talks faded. More gazes lifted high. All grasped the implication.

Those three holdouts belonged near the summit.

Trafalgar observed quietly.

The ranking advanced further.

Top five.

Top four.

When third place finally lit up, Trafalgar voiced it before his group could.

"Third," he stated. "Zafira du Zar’khael."

Xavier reacted quickest.

"Top three," he said, grinning wide. "That sounds right."

Cynthia nodded instantly. Bartholomew, shaking off his thirty-first shock, added a soft congrats too. Zafira took it with her standard poise, though a subtle contentment marked her stance.

Trafalgar's eyes stayed on the projection.

"Second..." he whispered.

The hall seemed to contract right then.

And perspective changed.

Alfons’s red eyes snapped to the next name as it materialized.

Alfons au Vaelion.

Second place.

The two boys closest hushed immediately.

Moments before, they'd lingered by him with casual assurance that second among first-years was a boastworthy feat. Outwardly, Alfons remained unchanged. Posture rigid. Demeanor steady. His expression revealed zilch.

Within, though, the result struck like an etched taunt.

Second.

One spot lingered above.

One boy gulped before piping up, now cautious.

"That still means..."

He trailed off, as the other finished boldly, his tone ringing clear enough to demand notice.

"First place. Trafalgar du Morgain."

That sealed it.

Alfons pivoted and strode from the hall.

No need for more. He'd witnessed all required. The projection had verified it starkly, openly, before every first-year. Trafalgar topped him.

The fire in Alfons’s chest didn't dim.

It blazed higher.

Inside the hall, the top name glowed steady in pale blue light over the crowd.

Trafalgar du Morgain.

No whispers could downplay it now.

At the year's beginning, nobody viewed Trafalgar as just average, yet plenty still judged him by outdated tales. Delayed awakening. Weak mana mastery. A House Morgain bastard lacking the polish expected from such a lineage. Such notions persisted since folks preferred easy judgments.

Then emerged fresh whispers.

The war.

The Councils.

His deeds.

The extent of his transformation.

For months, students whispered those accounts among themselves, partly credulous, partly skeptical, just as crowds react when one surges ahead too swiftly.

But today?

Today, they had witnessed the entire year play out.

Today, they had observed the practical exam.

Today, the leaderboard loomed over everyone, bearing his name in the premier spot.

The outdated tales carried no influence anymore.

Throughout the hall, first-year students couldn't help but gaze at Trafalgar.

There he lingered under the glowing display, chin lifted faintly toward the azure glow claiming the top rank for him. Nearby, the leading trio stayed projected boldly for all eyes.

Zafira du Zar’khael.

Alfons au Vaelion.

Trafalgar du Morgain.

Those names held no shock. Almost all anticipated the Great Families' heirs to claim the top spots.

The unexpected twist was their sequence.

Trafalgar stayed put as Alfons departed.

Overhead, his name claimed the number one position.