The regional branch of the Ranker Management Bureau was a testament to human adaptability. Despite the fact that it had been less than two weeks since the 'Tower of Trials' forcibly restructured reality, the building was already a sprawling, high-tech fortress of bureaucracy. It was a massive, impressive structure that loomed over the city center, acting as the new heart of the region's power.
I walked through the sliding glass doors and was immediately swept up in the hum of organized chaos. Guided by a polite staff member, I made my way to the Rank Evaluation Center on the fifth floor. The waiting area was packed. A long, restless line of Rankers snaked toward the testing rooms, flanked by aggressive reporters with camera drones and sharp-eyed recruiters from various guilds. From the titan-class Major Guilds to hungry, opportunistic start-ups, everyone was hunting for the next big thing, a player with a high-growth potential or a rare class.
Looking at the crowd, I was overwhelmed by a nameless feeling. Even with the Tower's grim announcement that humanity would be annihilated if the floors weren't cleared, the fundamental nature of the species hadn't shifted. Humans were still trying to make a living, to find a way to profit from the impending doom. In the past, life had been a soul-crushing rat race; now, the track had simply moved into the Tower. The stakes were lethal, but the race remained.
Among the crowd were Rankers seeking re-evaluation. The ranking system wasn't a static cage; with rigorous training, a stroke of luck, or enough wealth to buy high-tier skill books, a Ranker could push their Experience Points to a threshold that allowed them to transcend their initial rank. Materialistically speaking, a higher rank was a direct ticket to wealth and influence. Being associated with a High Ranker meant safety and power, which was exactly why the recruiters were stalking the halls like predators.
From the moment I stepped inside, I had [Red Demon's Eye] activated. I scanned the room for information and potential skills to copy, but the harvest was meager. Most of the people here were common archetypes, low-rank Warriors and Mages with standard skill sets. While there were a few individuals whose data was obscured by a significant level gap, nothing struck me as suspicious or worth my copy slots.
Eventually, the loudspeaker called my name.
The Evaluation Center was a marvel of modern magi-tech. At its heart sat a large, impossibly clear Magic Crystal, pulsing with a faint internal rhythm. Above the crystal hung a display with three distinct lights. These represented the tiers within the ranks: Green for the Low Tier, Blue for the Mid Tier, and Red for the High Tier.
Two staff members operated the consoles, their faces illuminated by the blue light of the monitors. Following their instructions, I stepped up to the crystal and placed my palm against its smooth, cold surface. With controlled precision, I began to bleed my Essence into the stone. I didn't let it all out at once; I regulated the flow of my Mana Lvl 9, letting the crystal drink deep.
The reaction was instantaneous. The Magic Crystal flared with a blinding, crimson light, casting long, sharp shadows against the reinforced walls. The red light didn't just flicker; it burned with a stable, overwhelming intensity.
The staff members were visibly shaken, their professional masks crumbling into expressions of pure joy and shock. As they processed the data and began printing my evaluation sheet, I took a step back. Since the room was soundproof and visually sealed, the vultures outside had no idea what had just occurred.
"Listen," I said, voice low and firm, catching the lead staff member's attention before they could call for their supervisor. "I want this kept quiet. I understand that you'll have to report the evaluation to the RMB central database at the end of the day, and that's fine. But do not mention a word of this to the reporters outside. I have no interest in being hunted by recruiters."
They nodded frantically, still star-struck. They handed over my new Ranker ID, their hands trembling slightly as they touched the plastic.
I walked out of the building, moving through the crowd like a ghost. Once I was a safe distance away, in the quiet shade of a nearby alley, I pulled the card from my pocket. It was a sleek, silver-trimmed ID featuring my name, age, and gender.
"[Name: Arthur Tempest]"
"[Age: 24 | Gender: Male]"
"[Rank: S | Level: 9 | Class: None]"
I stared at the 'S' for a long moment. My level was only 9, and I was still technically classless, but the raw quality of my mana and the weight of my hidden stats had forced the system's hand. I was now officially the 9th S-Rank in the country.