ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 651: It Is Official Now

For a few moments after Liam sat back down, the atmosphere in Beacon Hall remained strange.

The applause that had eventually been dragged out of the student body for the newly announced rank one still lingered faintly in the air, but the sincerity behind it had been thin at best. Many students were still processing what they had just heard. Others were trying not to look too openly disturbed by it. Some, especially those who had been willing to face reality long before the announcement, had already accepted it for what it was.

Liam Hunter was ranked first.

There was nothing anyone could do about that now.

Mystica, of course, allowed the hall just enough time to sit in that truth before moving on. She stood at the pulpit with the same composed elegance as before, looking entirely untroubled by the ripple of unrest still faintly moving through parts of the crowd.

Then, with a small motion of her fingers, she released another wave of myst into the air.

Above the first-year section, a large magical projection screen shimmered into existence, its form gathering in luminous layers before stabilizing into a wide, translucent display. Lines of text began to appear one after another, names unfolding across the surface in neat columns accompanied by their respective ranks.

Instantly, the attention of the first-years shifted upward.

Whatever thoughts they had been having about the top ten were forced aside as students began scanning the projection with varying levels of urgency. Some leaned forward immediately. Others half-rose from their seats before remembering where they were and settling back down again. Conversations did not break out—not openly, not while the ceremony was still underway—but the tension in the section became palpable as eyes moved rapidly through the display in search of familiar names.

The second-years were calmer now, having already gone through this experience moments earlier, but even many of them glanced toward the first-year screen with idle curiosity, likely checking where certain names had ended up.

As expected, the reactions were mixed.

There were students whose faces loosened with immediate relief the moment they found their names in positions higher than they had feared. Others looked disappointed, though not shattered, as they realized they had landed lower than what they had imagined for themselves. A few wore openly stunned expressions, either because they had climbed farther than expected or fallen harder than they had intended to.

Among the first-years, the projection carried far more than numbers.

It carried proof.

Proof of where they stood among their peers after everything they had gone through.

Proof that the academy had seen them, weighed them, and placed them accordingly.

Mystica waited.

She did not rush the moment. She let them take it in properly, let them search, compare, reevaluate, and process. It was part of the ceremony in its own way. Public acknowledgment might have belonged to the top ten, but the projection was where the wider body of students came face to face with their own reality.

On the stage, the gathered officials remained composed.

Headmaster Thion stood with the dignified patience expected of him. Kaelen looked as if this part of the process unfolded exactly as it always should. Seraphina watched the students with a calm, entertained expression, as though the quiet strain across the younger years amused her on some level. Kaine’s face remained unreadable. Regulus stood straight-backed and impassive, while Magnus—though still seated—looked increasingly like a man trying very hard not to start moving before the ceremony officially allowed it.

Eventually, once it was clear that enough time had passed and most students had found what they needed to, Mystica flicked her fingers again.

The projection dissolved.

Light broke apart into thin drifting fragments and vanished into the air above the first-year section, leaving behind only the students themselves and the ranks now fixed in their minds.

Mystica let the silence settle once more before speaking.

"Well then," she said smoothly, "now that everyone has had the opportunity to witness where they stand..."

Her gaze moved over both the first-years and the second-years.

"There is one matter I should clarify before anyone begins creating dramatic internal monologues about their academic futures."

That caused a subtle shift through the hall.

A few students visibly tensed again.

Mystica smiled faintly, clearly aware of the effect she was having.

"None of you," she said, voice carrying cleanly through Beacon Hall, "will be demoted."

The reaction was immediate.

Not loud, but undeniable.

A collective easing passed through both the first-year and second-year sections like air being released from a tightened room. A few shoulders visibly dropped. Some students blinked as if they had not quite believed they would hear those words until they actually arrived. Others simply looked relieved in quieter ways.

Mystica continued before the atmosphere could shift too far.

"You all passed your evaluation tests," she said. "That is the only reason you were eligible to be ranked among your peers in the first place."

Her tone was calm, but there was a firmness beneath it meant to keep them from misunderstanding the significance of that fact.

"Do not confuse ranking with failure," she said. "A lower position than you hoped for does not mean you have been cast aside. It means you have been measured. Nothing more. And for those of you already planning to use your rank as a reason to sulk dramatically through the coming weeks..."

A faint pause.

"Try not to embarrass yourselves."

A restrained ripple passed through parts of the hall.

Mystica’s lips curved just slightly.

"The important truth," she said, "is that every first-year seated here has successfully completed the requirements expected of their grade."

Her eyes shifted toward the first-year section.

"Which means that, as of today..."

She allowed the words a beat of weight.

"You are officially second-years."

That drew a stronger reaction.

This time there was a genuine swell of noise through the younger section—not enough to disrupt the ceremony, but enough to show that for all the tension surrounding ranks, this part mattered deeply too. A number of first-years straightened differently at those words, as if the simple act of hearing them spoken aloud had altered the way they sat in their seats.

Mystica then turned her attention toward the former second-years.

"And you," she said, "are officially third-years." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

The reaction there was quieter, more controlled, but no less real. The students who had moments ago still been second-years now found themselves occupying the highest non-graduating grade within the academy. That came with a different kind of pressure. A different kind of expectation. They knew it.

Mystica folded one hand lightly over the other against the pulpit.

"Now, naturally," she said, "this means things will be somewhat different for all of you moving forward."

A few students straightened further at that.

"For the new second-years," she continued, "the novelty of academy life is over. Completely."

Her gaze was sharp enough to make the point stick.

"You are no longer fresh arrivals who can excuse poor judgment with inexperience. The academy will expect more from you now. Your training will become heavier. Your responsibilities will increase. And the luxury of pretending you still don’t understand how things work here has officially expired."

There was a strange mixture of tension and reluctant acceptance in the first-year—now second-year—section.

Mystica, of course, noticed.

"As for the new third-years..."

Her tone deepened slightly.

"You stand at the threshold of departure already, whether you feel ready for that or not. From this point onward, you are no longer merely advancing through the structure of the academy. You are approaching the point where the academy begins to let go of you."

That landed heavily.

"Your final year will not be kind simply because it is your last," she continued. "If anything, it will demand more precision, more maturity, and more accountability than what came before it. You will be watched more closely. Evaluated more sharply. And expected to carry yourselves in a way appropriate to students nearing the end of their formation."

A faint pause followed before the edge of amusement returned to her voice.

"In simpler terms..."

She tilted her head slightly.

"Try not to be unbearable."

That drew another restrained shift through the hall.

She went on.

"You have all advanced. That is worthy of recognition. But advancement is not comfort. Promotion does not mean ease. It means the standards change."

Her violet eyes swept across the students again.

"Some of you will rise beautifully under that pressure."

A pause.

"And some of you will discover, very loudly and very publicly, just how much more growing you still have left to do."

There it was again—that Mystica way of speaking. Elegant, graceful, and somehow still capable of making an entire room feel like it was being praised and threatened at the same time.

She opened her mouth to continue—

And was interrupted by a voice loud enough to cut cleanly through the formal atmosphere.

"Moony."