Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats-Chapter 93: B Rank Hero

In the lull between battles, Ambrose and his team occupied a section of the arena’s tiered benches, a small island of calm amidst the tournament’s electric atmosphere. The remaining five teams cast frequent glances in their direction—some filled with trepidation, others with calculating assessment. Whispered conversations and subtle pointing made it clear that Team Rothschild had become the spectacle within the spectacle, their effortless victories casting a long shadow over the competition.

Ambrose, however, had mentally departed from the arena entirely. The upcoming matchups held little interest for him; with Hualing’s overwhelming combat presence and Marcus’s formidable swordsmanship, their advancement seemed all but guaranteed regardless of opposition. Instead, his brilliant mind was occupied with a far more intriguing puzzle—the correlation between the system stats and hero rankings.

Ambrose scanned through the stats of many people in the arena, filling his database with information that may or may not be useful later. As he was filing this data, patterns emerged from the data, connections crystallizing into a coherent framework that answered his earlier curiosity.

Ambrose concluded that rank advancement corresponded directly to inherent stat thresholds—a primary attribute unique to each individual’s class or specialization. For berserkers, stamina formed their cornerstone; warriors relied on strength; whereas mages, healers, and intelligence-focused individuals like himself depended on their intelligence stats. He didn’t know if there were other stats that other classes scaled off but it didn’t matter, after all, the conclusion would probably be the same.

The progression followed a clear doubling pattern: F-rank represented baseline human capability with an inherent stat of 5, while each subsequent rank required doubling the previous threshold—10 for E-rank, 20 for D-rank, 40 for C-rank, 80 for B-rank, and 160 for the rarefied A-rank.

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A smile of satisfaction curved his lips as he mentally positioned himself within this hierarchy. With his intelligence stat at 135, he comfortably exceeded the B-rank threshold of 80, yet remained short of the 160 required for A-rank. Still, this revelation carried significant implications.

"I’m actually a B-rank hero," he thought with quiet amusement, appreciating the irony that despite his physical frailty, he technically possessed the highest rank within his own party. B-rank heroes were uncommon enough, but a B-rank intelligence specialist was even rarer, after all, it was harder to increase intelligence. Although one could increase other physical stats through training, for intelligence it wasn’t cut and dried, different classes had their own advancement methods, for mages, it was easier, mostly magic research and personal experimentation was enough for someone to advance. Other classifications weren’t all that different from this and required their own form of research to maybe gain an epiphany and advance. But this was hard and required investing a lot of time to just reading, this was why many high ranking intelligence-types were old.

His contemplation was interrupted by a surge of excited murmurs rippling through the crowd. The massive crystalline display had illuminated with the fourth-round matchups, its azure glow painting the arena in cool light as it proclaimed:

Ambrose’s Team vs. Eliza’s Team

Lysander’s Team vs. Aurora’s Team

Leon’s Team vs. Valeria’s Team

Ambrose’s gaze lingered on their assigned opponents—Eliza Runecaster’s team of rune specialists. His Mind’s Eye had already cataloged their capabilities: methodical, preparation-dependent, but formidable when given time to establish their magical foundations.

"Perfect," he thought, already formulating strategies to disrupt their careful planning. "I just hope Hualing knows when to stop"

…

Eliza Runecaster stood at the base of the platform, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she gazed up at the arena that would soon witness her team’s likely defeat. She had navigated the tournament’s treacherous waters with skill and determination until now, her rune magic proving formidable against conventional opponents. But as she watched Sun Hualing on the opposite side, Lady Luck seemed to have abandoned her entirely.

"We’ve drawn the worst possible match," she whispered to herself, fingers curling into tight fists.

Despite the overwhelming odds, Eliza straightened her shoulders and began the ascent to the platform, her team following behind with expressions ranging from nervous determination to resigned acceptance. The thought of surrender briefly flitted through her mind—a quick forfeit would spare them potential humiliation or injury. But when she glanced back at her companions—Finn, Astrid, Soren, and Freya—their trust in her leadership was palpable, stirring something resolute within her chest.

I can’t win this for them, she acknowledged internally, but I can ensure we perform admirably enough to maintain our ranking. Perhaps if we demonstrate sufficient skill, even in defeat...

Her gaze drifted back to Sun Hualing, the notorious combatant whose previous performances had reduced experienced fighters to trembling surrender. A chill raced down Eliza’s spine.

If I can just ensure we all walk away from this intact, that will be victory enough.

On the opposite side of the platform, Ambrose Rothschild assumed what had become his signature position—sitting cross-legged in perfect meditative posture, seemingly disconnected from the impending battle. This time, however, Adelaide joined him, settling gracefully beside him with a small pouch of colorful confections nestled in her lap.

"Here, try this one," Adelaide offered with a playful smile, selecting a crystallized fruit and pressing it gently to Ambrose’s lips. The sweetness burst across his tongue as she watched expectantly.

"Is it good?" she inquired, her red hair catching the afternoon light.

Ambrose nodded appreciatively as he swallowed. "Quite, though I’m not certain food is permitted during matches," he mused, glancing toward the officiating panel.

Adelaide’s smile widened, revealing perfect teeth. "It should be fine. After all," she cast a meaningful glance toward Hualing and Marcus, "we’re not the ones fighting anyway."

Their casual conversation was joined by Meihua, who settled on Adelaide’s other side with fluid grace. Without asking permission, she selected a candy from the pouch and popped it into her mouth, her calculating eyes never leaving the opposing team.

Across the platform, Eliza’s team stared in disbelief at this display of absolute nonchalance. Murmurs rippled through the spectators as well—nobles and commoners alike taken aback by Team Rothschild’s apparent dismissal of tournament protocol. Even the announcer faltered momentarily, his practiced commentary failing him until a colleague’s subtle nudge prompted him back to awareness.

"Ahem! Ladies and gentlemen, we begin the fourth round with Team Rothschild facing Team Runecaster!" he declared, voice magically amplified across the arena. "Begin!"

The instant the barrier shimmered into full activation, Hualing launched herself forward with frightening speed. Marcus caught only a glimpse of her departure before shaking his head with a resigned smile.

It’ll be over before I can even draw my sword, he realized. He sighed as he decided to protect his non-combatant teammates instead. But when he turned around to look at the so-called non-combatants, his eyes widened slightly at the sight of them casually sharing snacks, apparently unbothered by their proximity to battle.

As expected of the young master, Marcus thought with a mixture of admiration and disbelief. He doesn’t even consider these opponents worthy of his attention.