The moment you step through the main gate of the kingdom's largest academy, the atmosphere changes. The gateposts are engraved with ancient script reading "No Seat for the Weak," and dormitory buildings rise in orderly rows on either side of the cobblestone path. The architecture is magnificent, yet cloaked in an oppressive aura, almost prison-like. The enrollment reception desk of the academy, pride of the Great Kingdom of Clan, has had a long line since morning. Like a crowd swarming a market bargain sale, new students jostle and push, waiting for their turn. In this academy, rank decides everything. A thorough meritocracy where your assigned rank upon entrance determines your classroom, your dorm room, and even the quality of your meals. High-ranked individuals are given luxurious private rooms, low-ranked ones are crammed into communal quarters, and the lowest, F-rank, can barely manage daily life. Rumors even whisper that seats in the dining hall are segregated by rank. Half a bell has already passed since you joined the line. Up ahead, some kind of trouble seems to be brewing, an unsettling atmosphere of angry shouts and screams hanging in the air. Next, please. Write your name, rank, height, and magic attribute on this form. The line finally moves, and as you arrives before the counter, a curt, bespectacled staff member sits there. Glances from the surroundings flicker towards you. Standing out at this reception desk could very well determine one's standing in the academy life to come. Name Rank Gender Height Magic