Mars

In the cafeteria during lunch break, the long line at the free meal station looked like a silent, festering wound.

Horikita Suzune carried her light tray, the cheap, inferior plastic feeling tacky against her fingertips.

The food on the plate was dull in color and bland in taste; its only defining label was "free."

Her gaze swept over several tables crowded with Class D students—Hirata Yosuke was frowning, struggling to swallow the flavorless stew; nearby, several boys who were usually boisterous were now mechanically shoveling rice into their mouths, their faces etched with a bone-deep numbness.

Being able to fill their stomachs seemed to be the only domesticated, meager hope left to them.

However, what truly drags people into the abyss is never the emptiness of the stomach.

Just as Horikita was about to sit in an empty seat in the corner, a deliberately lowered sneer from nearby pierced through like an icicle.

"Pfft... look, the model of 'nutritional balance'." Two girls from Class B (Sakayanagi's class) strolled past the Class D area, their eyes sweeping over the pathetic trays, the mockery at the corners of their mouths undisguised. "As expected of the 'geniuses' who managed to blow through all their points in just one month of school. The whole school really should come and learn from this kind of 'courage'."

A passing boy from Class C stopped in his tracks, his sense of superiority practically overflowing: "You said it. They couldn't even protect their own classmates during a simple exam, effectively 'saving' us the trouble of testing the rules ourselves. Being so 'competent' at hitting rock bottom is a talent in its own right, I suppose."

"Genius class," "rock bottom," "couldn't protect classmates," "trash"... Every word was like a poisoned needle, precisely pricking the crumbling self-esteem of everyone in Class D, and ruthlessly piercing through the composure Horikita Suzune was struggling to maintain.

Her fingers, gripping the edge of the tray, tightened sharply, her knuckles turning white from the effort.

She looked up, only to be met by the sight of more classmates quickly lowering their heads—there was no angry retaliation, only a deeper bowing of heads, as if those vicious judgments were already their default brand.

The contempt and insults from other classes were merely external factors; the more fatal issue was the self-doubt growing within Class D day and night: a class that was rotten to the core from the start, breaking "records" for being at the bottom time and time again, even they themselves couldn't help but wonder—are we truly the hopeless "0" as judged by the S System? Moving up a class? That's nothing but a pipe dream.

Despair, like viscous asphalt, slowly solidified in the air, suffocating the last spark of fighting spirit.

Horikita forced herself to sit down and picked up her utensils, but the food tasted like wax.

The inner anxiety burned like a wildfire, making her sit in restless agony.

Problems piled up before her like a mountain, and the morale of her classmates had long since plummeted to the bottom.

She wanted to do something! To change all of this! But every time this thought arose, it was followed by cold shackles—a lack of ability.

This realization weighed heavily on her heart, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

She couldn't find the key to the problem, couldn't see a way to break the deadlock, and was even lost as to where to begin.

Solving the problem? For her right now, it was no different than climbing a sheer cliff with her bare hands.

Anxious? Of course she was! Watching the sinking ship that was her class accelerate toward the bottom, how could she not be? But aside from uselessly burning with this anxiety in her heart, she truly seemed... powerless.

However, deep within this near-solidified despair, a strange sensation, like a faint current beneath a sheet of ice, quietly brushed against the tip of Horikita's heart.

It wasn't hope; that was too luxurious.

It was something more primitive, more sharp—unwillingness.

She saw the fleeting humiliation in the bobbing of Hirata Yosuke's Adam's apple as he swallowed.

She saw the suppressed, bloodshot eyes of those boys who were mechanically eating, only daring to lift their eyelids slightly after the Class B girls had walked away.

She could even hear the faint, muffled sound of teeth grinding together in the deathly silence that followed the Class C boy's words.

It wasn't that they didn't feel anything.

It was just that their last remaining shred of self-esteem and anger had been crushed by a greater sense of despair and powerlessness, scattered on the ground, leaving them without even the courage to pick it up.

Sakayanagi Arisu's Class B could look down with elegance and ease; Ryuen Kakeru's Class C could trample them without restraint, because they possessed the fortress built by "points" and the "high status" temporarily granted by the S System.

But what did Class D have? Aside from this glaring "0," aside from this free, charity-like "pig slop," aside from the bone-deep humiliation and doubt... they were left with only this tiny bit of humble longing for a "normal" life that even they themselves despised, and a bone-deep, unspoken "unwillingness" toward their oppressors.

Horikita Suzune's gaze returned to the dull food on her tray.

The flame of anxiety did not go out; instead, under the pressure of the cold shackles, it burned into a different kind of near-ruthless realization.

She didn't have the means to turn the world upside down, but what she did have was this very quagmire of despair that was Class D.

Mobilizing this "unwillingness"... perhaps?

This thought was like a match struck in the dark; it was faint, but it instantly illuminated a corner of her mind that had been sealed off by despair.

Yes, they were a scattered mess right now, trash in the eyes of others.

But in a pile of trash, it wasn't impossible to ignite a fire that could burn everything to the ground.

All that was needed was a spark, an opportunity to let those shattered pieces of "unwillingness" coalesce and turn into fuel. Sakayanagi's elegance, Ryuen's arrogance, Class C's superiority... if these pressures applied to them were guided correctly, they might just become the furnace that would re-forge the blunt blade of Class D.

Lack of ability? Perhaps.

But sitting still and waiting for death, watching everyone (including herself) rot completely in this mud, that was absolutely not the choice of Horikita Suzune!

She shoved a mouthful of the bland stew into her mouth, tasting like wax, but swallowed it with a resolute, fierce determination.

The path to retaliation remained blurry, but the will to fight back had already quietly clenched its fist within the ashes of despair.

Evening, school building bulletin board

On the bulletin board, the cold numbers were like a final verdict:

Class Points:

Class A: 1040 points

Class B: 1033 points

Class C: 838 points

Class D: 0 points

Students from Class B paused as they passed, their gazes lingering between the glaring 1040 of Class A and the 1033 of their own class. Their faces were a mix of frustration and determination—the gap was narrowing, but the throne had yet to be reclaimed.

As for the students of Class D, they hurried past as if avoiding a plague.

Some caught a glimpse of that bright red "0" and, as if burned by a branding iron, jerked their heads away and quickened their pace. Others stared fixedly at the ground, as if trying to erase the number from their vision entirely. Still others, after a brief pause, showed a flicker of the same suppressed, intense dark fire in their eyes that Horikita had just displayed, only for it to be covered over by an even deeper numbness as they lowered their heads and walked away quickly.

Horikita Suzune stood in the shadows not far away, taking it all in.

The light from the bulletin board outlined her cold, tense profile.

That "0" was still an eyesore, and those hurried, fleeing backs were still a stinging sight.

But at this moment, deep within her eyes, that cold flame ignited by "unwillingness" was silently flickering, waiting for the wind that would set the prairie ablaze.

In the cafeteria during lunch break, the long line at the free meal section looked like a silent scar.

Horikita Suzune held her light tray, the cheap, inferior plastic feeling tacky against her fingertips.

The food on the plate was dull in color and bland in taste; its only label was "free."

Her gaze swept over several tables crowded with Class D students—Hirata Yosuke frowned as he struggled to swallow the nearly flavorless stew; the boys nearby, usually noisy, were now just mechanically shoveling rice, their faces etched with a bone-deep numbness.

Being able to fill their stomachs seemed to be the only domesticated, modest hope left.

However, what truly drags people into the abyss is never the emptiness of the stomach.

Just as Horikita was about to sit in a vacant spot in the corner, a deliberately lowered sneer from nearby pierced her like an icicle.

"Pfft... look, the model of 'nutritional balance'." Two girls from Class B (Sakayanagi's class) strolled past the Class D area, their eyes sweeping over the meager trays, the mockery on their lips undisguised. "As expected of the 'geniuses' who managed to squander all their points in just one month of school. We really should let the whole school learn from this 'courage'."

A passing Class C boy stopped, his sense of superiority practically overflowing: "No kidding. They couldn't even protect their own classmates during a simple exam, directly 'saving' us the trouble of testing the rules. Being this 'competent' at hitting rock bottom is a talent in its own right."

"Genius class," "rock bottom," "couldn't protect classmates," "trash"... Every word was like a poisoned needle, precisely pricking the crumbling self-esteem of everyone in Class D, and ruthlessly piercing through the composure Horikita Suzune was struggling to maintain.

Her fingers, gripping the edge of the tray, tightened sharply, her knuckles turning white from the effort.

She looked up, only to be met with the rapidly lowered gazes of more classmates—no angry counterattack, only heads buried deeper, as if those vicious judgments were already their default brand.

The contempt and insults from other classes were merely external factors; what was more fatal was the self-doubt growing day and night within Class D: a class that had rotted to the core from the start, breaking the "record" for the bottom rank time and time again, until even they couldn't help but wonder—are we really the hopeless "0" that the S System judged us to be? Moving up a class? It was nothing but a pipe dream.

Despair solidified slowly in the air like thick asphalt, suffocating the last spark of fighting spirit.

Horikita forced herself to sit down and picked up her utensils, but the food tasted like wax.

The inner anxiety burned like a wildfire, making her restless.

Problems piled up like mountains before her eyes, and the morale of her classmates had long since plummeted to the bottom.

She wanted to do something! To change all of this! But every time this thought arose, it was followed by cold shackles—a lack of ability.

This realization weighed heavily on her heart, making it almost impossible for her to breathe.

She couldn't find the key to the problem, couldn't see a way to break the deadlock, and was even at a total loss as to where to begin.

Solving the problem? For her at this moment, it was no different from climbing a sheer cliff with her bare hands.

Anxious? Of course she was anxious! Watching the broken ship that was her class sink faster, how could she not be? But other than burning with this futile anxiety in her heart, she seemed truly... powerless.

However, right in the depths of this near-solid despair, a strange sensation, like a faint current beneath the ice, quietly brushed against the tip of Horikita's heart.

It wasn't hope; that was too luxurious.

It was something more primitive, more sharp—unwillingness.

She saw the fleeting humiliation in the bobbing of Hirata Yosuke's Adam's apple as he swallowed.

She saw the bloodshot eyes suppressed beneath the eyelids of those boys who were mechanically shoveling rice, eyes they only dared to lift slightly after the Class B girls had walked away.

She could even hear the barely audible, muffled sound of teeth grinding in the dead silence that followed the Class C boy's words.

It wasn't that they didn't feel anything.

It was just that their remaining self-esteem and anger had been crushed by a more massive sense of despair and powerlessness, scattered on the ground, leaving them without even the courage to pick them up.

Sakayanagi Arisu's Class B could look down with elegance and ease, and Ryuen Kakeru's Class C could trample without restraint, because they possessed the fortress built by "points" and the "high status" temporarily granted by the S System.

But what did Class D have? Besides this glaring "0," besides this free, charity-like "pig feed," besides the bone-deep humiliation and doubt... they only had this tiny bit of humble longing for a "normal" life that they themselves despised, and a bone-deep "unwillingness" toward their oppressors that they dared not voice.

Horikita Suzune's gaze returned to the dull food on her tray.

The flame of anxiety did not go out; instead, under the pressure of the cold shackles, it burned into a different kind of near-cold realization.

She didn't have the means to turn the tide, but what she did have was the very quagmire of despair that was Class D.

Mobilizing this "unwillingness"... perhaps?

This thought was like a match struck in the dark—faint, yet it instantly illuminated a corner of her mind that had been sealed by despair.

Yes, they were a scattered mess right now, trash in the eyes of others.

But in a pile of trash, it was not impossible to ignite a fire that would burn everything down.

All that was needed was a spark, an opportunity to let those shattered pieces of "unwillingness" coalesce again and turn into fuel. Sakayanagi's elegance, Ryuen's arrogance, Class C's superiority... if these pressures exerted upon them were guided correctly, they might just become the furnace to forge this blunt blade that was Class D.

Lack of ability? Perhaps.

But sitting still and waiting for death, watching everyone (including herself) rot away in this quagmire, was absolutely not the choice of Horikita Suzune!

She shoved a mouthful of bland stew into her mouth, tasting like wax, yet she swallowed it with a sense of resolute ruthlessness.

The path for a counterattack remained blurred, but the will to fight back had already quietly clenched its fist within the ashes of despair.

Evening, school building bulletin board

On the bulletin board, the cold numbers were like a final verdict:

Class Points:

Class A: 1040 points

Class B: 1033 points

Class C: 838 points

Class D: 0 points

Passing students from Class B stopped, their gazes lingering between the glaring 1040 of Class A and the 1033 of their own class, their faces a mix of frustration and determination—the gap was narrowing, but the throne had yet to be reclaimed.

As for the students of Class D, they hurried past as if avoiding a plague.

Some caught a glimpse of that bright red "0" and, as if burned by a branding iron, jerked their heads away and quickened their pace; others stared fixedly at the ground, as if trying to erase those numbers from their vision entirely; there were also those who, after a brief pause, had a flicker of the same suppressed, extreme dark fire in their eyes that Horikita had just displayed, only for it to be covered over by an even deeper numbness as they lowered their heads and walked away quickly.

Horikita Suzune stood in the shadows not far away, taking all of this in.

The light from the bulletin board outlined her cold and tense profile.

That "0" was still glaring, and those fleeing backs were still stinging.

But at this moment, deep within her eyes, that cold flame ignited by "unwillingness" was swaying silently, waiting for the wind that would set the prairie ablaze.