The SSS-Rank System: From Outcast To Overlord
Chapter 33: Heavy Choices.

Chapter 33: Heavy Choices.

Although late at night, the entrance door of the Hero Embassy still busily creaked, followed by barely tiptoed footsteps of a person.

Michael stopped, stretching at the long, outstretched hallway before him, as if expecting a sudden pop from the darkness. There had been no two reasons he was here. If it wasn’t the eery disturbance he felt creeping in him, then he probably would’ve been struggling to sleep by now.

He fixated a black hoodie over his head, staring intently into the long space. Someone was there. Possibly, the one who had led him here.

"What do you want?" He asked, although he wasn’t the type to start conversations.

Something replied from the darkness. Footsteps, calmly headed towards him. A man stepped into the light before him, wearing a simple black top shirt that exposed his broad chest. In the bulb’s reflection, his eyes seemed to glow intense purple, his hair— rough and disheveled— adapted the same color.

"Kieran Ferrante." Michael muttered.

"What, are you surprised?" The hero asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You’re right, I shouldn’t." Michael replied with a scowl. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I’m a very nice guy who would rather give you an offer than just kill you." Kieran grinned wildly.

"Kill me, for what?"

"You are a living crime, Michael. You use Divine type powers." Kieran deliberated.

Of course, the hero just had to take that note. What was Michael’s expectation? That he would use a forbidden power and get away with it even after being witnessed by a hero?

Some far-fetched expectation it was.

"If no one had interfered, you could’ve killed those two." Kieran continued, referring to Lena and Reyy.

"No one in their right mind would do that—"

"Exactly, Michael. Divine type powers causes you to go berserk, and you stop to listen to your own conscience. You were anything but in your right mind back there."

Michael’s silenced aired for a while.

"And? Would I have to go juvenile prison for that?" He finally said, shrugging.

"That could happen, but then again, I find your story quite intriguing." Kieran smirked.

"What story?"

"I read your records. Michael Alastair, F-rank. 18 years old and yet, an orphan."

At Kieran’s last words, Michael felt judged, and so he gritted.

"I couldn’t get more Intel on your parents to tell if you’re just a false ranker. But it seems I need no evidence."

"I’m no false ranker!" Michael denied as fast.

Kieran’s smile widened. "Then tell me, how in the world can a F-rank student use divine type powers?"

PL

Michael observed quietly. What was this man up to? Was he trying to get Intel out of him? If anything, Kieran worked for the government, it was never safe to tell him about the system.

"I just have a crazy luck." Michael replied.

"I read your a few of your snippets, Michael. I must say, you do seem to fancy a good character who miraculously becomes powerful and defeats his enemies— no matter how strong they already were."

Michael’s scowl deepened. Where had he found his writings? So far he knew, he hadn’t exactly published any book.

"What good is a character who remains weak throughout the story?" He asked in a reply.

"You’re right. But impossible things only become possible when you write them. Take a look at reality, Michael. . ." Kieran raised his arms in the air. "You don’t just suddenly become powerful like it’s some cheat code. You work for power, and earn it."

"Right." Michael nodded. "If that’s today’s lesson, then can I leave now?"

"I didn’t even make my offer yet." Kieran pointed out.

"Then indulge me."

Kieran fiddled with his fingernails and spoke, "You could choose either one of two options Michael,

1. I arrest you and take you to jail for attempted murder and use of forbidden talent.

2. We settle this through a rank reevaluation check, and depending on what rank you read, you would have to work for me."

Michael stared blankly at the man. "And what if I choose none?"

"Then we’d just have to do it the hard way."

Immediately from nowhere, multiple footsteps began to approach. Men, clothed in black suit dressed had sorounded him. Everywhere Michael had looked, he met a terrifying aura before him. A-rank men probably. If he tried to fight them, then Kieran would definitely confirm his rank and kill him.

"If I were you Michael, I’d think logically at this point." Kieran continued. "You have a choice to provide more evidence against yourself or choose from the earlier options."

Michael scowled at the man. Curses!

"What’s it gonna be, hm?"

* * *

___MEANWHILE___

"I’ll take three more cup noodles." Elvis’s eyes pierced deep into the attender’s as he spoke.

She had barely nodded, gulping fear down her throat. But even when she left, he could still feel Reyy’s scowl looming over him.

"What?" He asked, throwing his chopsticks into his cup in frustration.

"Three cup noodles, really? Who do you think I am?" Reyy was almost yelling, obviously, he had sponsored tonight’s meal.

"I dunno, some proud loser?" Elvis replied, staring into his eyes.

Reyy’s frown softened at his cousin’s words. "Someone seems happy about the other day."

"Oh, nothing excites me than seeing your not-so-big plans fail." Elvis said before he ate a mouthful of noodle.

". . ."

"Why did you call me here though?" Elvis asked, still munching on his food.

Reyy shrugged. "Is it bad to have a meal with a bratty cousin?"

The night breeze had washed cold into their bones, keeping them uncomfortable as they sat under a pavilion for a table. It didn’t feel like a perfect night for a warm reunion.

"I see." Elvis tried meeting Reyy’s eyes, but he avoided. "So now, tell me the actual reason."

Reyy hesitated. His hands reached for a drink. He poured into a small cup and gulped it at once, feeling the spice swilling in his brain. There were only high school students, but he wouldn’t care.

"Four years ago, when we met again, i—"

"Don’t talk about it." Elvis said, ceasing from motion.

"I want to apologize,... For what I did." Reyy insisted. "It was wrong to plan out a proper future together and then turn against you, almost like we were strangers."

". . ."

Reyy gripped his head. "I don’t know what to say now, I’ve never done this before. But I know for sure that I’ve lost everything I struggled for. When Michael defeated me, it made me feel. . . Less out of place, like I was only created to fit a spot in the big story."

"Like a side character?"

"Exactly." Reyy replied, looking at Elvis. "And now that I think about it, that must’ve been how you felt when I stole your place as King."

"Nahh." Elvis was stirring his noodle. "You must’ve gotten me for a couple of weeks, yes, I had to face the embarrassment. But I never let that win me over."

"You used to be such an ambitious idiot, how did you take your mind off it?"

"Simple, I just stopped thinking of the phrase, ’IF I HAD’. I began to think more like, ’WHAT’S NEXT?’" Elvis explained. "Besides, why would I let myself be hurt by a guy who’s life isn’t balanced anyways?"

"You stopped smiling." Reyy pointed out.

"Who says I did? I smile. . . Sometimes."

"Sure." Reyy said and poured into his cup.