SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Chapter 508: Chapter 508: The Day of Finals

For once, Trafalgar did not wake to training, meetings, or the weight of something larger waiting just outside his door. Today was simpler than that, at least on the surface. The theoretical exams were all scheduled for the same day, one after another, and even though he did not have that many subjects compared to his uni life in earth. He had spent days with books open in front of him until the words began to blur, and if not for Bartholomew, he would have gladly thrown half of Professor Rhaldrin’s material out the nearest window.

Now he was standing in the corridor outside his room, dressed and ready, waiting.

The highest floor of the dormitory remained as quiet as ever. It always did. There were only three people living there, which gave the place a strange emptiness, as if too much space had been reserved for far more heirs than the academy had ended up receiving that year. The corridor stretched out in polished stone and early light, the air crisp, undisturbed, almost cold enough to bite.

Trafalgar had come out a little earlier than necessary because he was waiting for Zafira. He leaned one shoulder against the wall near the circular platform that served as the lift, one hand in his pocket, the other hanging loose, and let his mind drift toward the exams ahead.

He heard another door open before Zafira’s.

Alfons stepped out first.

It had been a while since Trafalgar had last seen him properly. Even during the Council, Alfons had kept his distance. Standing here again, he looked as he always did, blond hair neat, bright red eyes carrying that same brittle pride, clothes fitted sharply enough to suggest he had spent longer arranging them than the exams probably deserved.

In almost every way, he looked like the opposite of Trafalgar.

One wore his black hair long enough to tie it back. The other kept his short and orderly. One carried dark blue in his gaze, the other something fierce and crimson. Even the feeling they gave off clashed like opposite ends of the same sky.

’Sun and moon,’ Trafalgar thought, faintly amused. ’And he’d hate that comparison if I said it aloud.’

Alfons noticed him immediately, of course. Trafalgar could tell before the other boy even changed direction.

’Is he actually going to say something? He’s been unusually quiet lately.’

Alfons walked straight toward the lift, pass ed by him, and slowed only for the space of a breath. He did not turn his head. Still, his voice came out clear enough, carrying the disdain he never bothered to hide.

”I’m going to rank higher than you in the exams.”

Trafalgar heard it, let the words settle, and ended up laughing before he could stop himself. It was not even a full laugh, only a short, dry sound, but it was enough.

Alfons did not react outwardly. He kept moving, stepped onto the circular platform, and descended without looking back. Trafalgar was almost certain the comment had irritated him more than if he had answered directly.

He watched the platform disappear and let out a breath through his nose.

’There’s a ranking for the exams?’

That part was new.

He straightened slightly from the wall, turning the thought over in his head. Valttair had never mentioned it. Then again, Valttair rarely explained things unless he thought the explanation served a purpose. He had only made one thing clear: keep the family’s name standing high.

’I suppose this counts.’

A door opened behind him.

This time it was Zafira.

Trafalgar turned and found her stepping out into the corridor, already dressed for the day. She had gone for something comfortable rather than ornate, which suited her more than any formal effort would have. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail today, and together with the more practical clothing, it gave her a cleaner, quicker look than usual.

”Good morning, Trafalgar,” she said. ”Were you waiting for me?”

He pushed away from the wall. ”Good morning, Zafira. Yes. Shall we go?”

”Yes. Let’s.”

The circular platform had not yet returned, so they remained there side by side, waiting while the faint hum of mana moved somewhere below them.

Trafalgar glanced at her. ”Tell me something. Is there actually a ranking for the students during the exams?”

Zafira turned toward him with mild surprise. ”You didn’t know that?”

”No. I had no idea, or I just might forgot about it.”

Her mouth curved with a trace of amusement. ”There is. And the practical exam is the same in that regard.”

He frowned. ”What do you mean?”

”You know each of us has different practical subjects depending on our class and specialties, right?”

Trafalgar nodded once.

Zafira crossed her arms loosely. ”Well, when the practical exam comes, all of that is pushed into a real situation. The first-years compete against first-years, second-years against second-years, and third-years against third-years. The practical side may come from different training paths, but the ranking is shared.”

Trafalgar absorbed that quietly.

”I see.” His brow lifted. ”So who usually stands out?”

Zafira’s answer came without hesitation. ”The members of the Eight Great Families. Which means you, me, and golden curls should be above the rest.”

Trafalgar turned toward her fully. ”Golden curls?”

”Yes,” she replied with complete seriousness. ”Alfons.”

That earned an actual laugh from him, warmer than the one Alfons had dragged out of him moments ago.

The platform rose at last with its soft mechanical hum, and the two of them stepped onto it together. The mana circle beneath their feet glowed faintly before beginning its descent.

Trafalgar folded his arms as they went down.

’I suppose that answers it. I really do have to do well.’

The thought did not trouble him. If anything, it gave the whole thing a clearer shape.

As the lift moved lower, Zafira turned her head slightly toward him.

”By the way,” she said, ”when are we going?”

He knew immediately what she meant. ”To Augusto’s place?”

”Yes.”

”After the exams would be best, wouldn’t it?” he replied. ”We’ll have a short break before second year begins. That should give us time.”

Zafira’s expression barely changed, but something eased in it all the same. She had clearly noticed that he had remembered.

”Good,” she said.

The platform reached the lower floor, and they stepped off together. The dormitory below was far livelier, filled with students coming and going in loose groups, many of them carrying notes they were still trying to review even at the last moment. The mood had the usual exam-day flavor.

By the time Trafalgar and Zafira stepped outside, the others were already waiting.

Cynthia stood with her usual athletic ease, arms folded, white hair falling straight down her back. Xavier looked far more awake than anyone preparing for theoretical exams had any right to, though the faint shadows beneath his eyes suggested that study had hit him harder than he wanted to admit. Bartholomew had a book tucked against his chest even now, as if he might somehow read one final Chapter on the way in and save his life with it.

Xavier grinned the moment he saw them. ”Ready for today?”

Trafalgar studied him briefly. ”You seem more enthusiastic than I expected.”

Xavier rolled one shoulder. ”I just want it over with. I’ve been killing myself studying lately. Once this is done, I want peace.”

Trafalgar’s mouth twitched. ”You still have the practical exam tomorrow.”

Xavier’s grin thinned. ”Right. That.” He pointed a finger at him. ”And don’t spy on me too much before it. I don’t want you seeing my new Echo before our spar.”

Trafalgar glanced at him without changing expression. ”Don’t worry. Secret or not, I doubt it’ll change the result much.”

Xavier stared at him, half offended, half entertained. ”You say things like that so calmly.”

”I am wrong?”

Bartholomew let out the smallest sound that might have been laughter, quickly burying it when Cynthia glanced his way. Zafira, meanwhile, looked entirely unsurprised.

”Can we save the boasting for after the exams?” Cynthia asked. ”Some of us would like to pass first.”

”That was not boasting,” Trafalgar said.

”It absolutely was,” Zafira replied.

He did not bother defending himself.

Together, the five of them began heading toward the main academic building, moving with the same current as dozens of other first-years who were all trying to look less anxious than they felt. The academy grounds had taken on a different air that morning. Even the wind crossing the courtyards seemed lighter, as if it knew most of the students inside were already suffering enough on their own.

The exams were here.

And with them, the first real end to the year had begun.