F-Rank Awakening: My System Turns Trash Skills To SSS-RANK

Chapter 35: Meeting Abigail Ratchford

A shockwave of compressed blue energy erupted from Tenski’s palm at the exact moment of impact. A visible ripple of force distorted the air, ringing out like a cannon shot. The heavy steel plate buckled inward, a deep, round crater two inches deep sinking into the solid metal as the iron support pillar groaned under the sheer force of the impact.

The students gasped, several of them flinching back three paces at the thunderous sound.

Tenski pulled his hand back, completely unscathed, smoothing down his leather vest.

"That," Tenski said flatly, pointing at the warped steel plate, "is a three-inch palm strike backed by correct Stance, clean Channeling, and instant Transfer. No wind-up. No telegraphing. If a monster gets past your gear or your sword blade and lands on your chest inside a narrow rift tunnel, this is the only thing that keeps your ribs inside your body."

He turned back to face the class, his eyes scanning their pale faces.

"Spread out across the yard," Tenski commanded. "Ten feet between each student. We are spending the next two hours on Phase One: Stance. You will not punch anything today. You will not channel a single drop of Mana today. You will stand in gravel until your legs burn and your bones remember what being rooted feels like."

The students scrambled across the gravel field, spreading out into wide, disciplined rows.

Rain found a spot toward the middle of the field, setting his boots shoulder-width apart. He dropped his hips, bending his knees slightly, trying to replicate the compact, grounded alignment Tenski had demonstrated.

"Lower, Student Harmon!" Tenski’s voice thundered from the far side of the yard. "You look like a wind-blown sapling! Sink your weight into your heels!"

A boy two rows ahead of Rain stumbled, his legs trembling as he tried to sink deeper into the stance, losing his balance and falling sideways into the gravel.

"Get up!" Tenski barked, walking past him without stopping. "If a D-rank direhound hits you in that stance, your spine will snap in half! Again!"

The entire class struggled immensely. Across the field, students were sweating, their legs shaking violently within twenty minutes of holding the static, rigid posture. Without Mana allowed to reinforce their muscles, the raw physical strain of maintaining a low, perfectly balanced center of gravity on uneven gravel was agonizing.

Rain felt his own thighs begin to burn with a slow, dull ache.

Even with his stats climbing far past his baseline, holding the stance wasn’t effortless. The difficulty didn’t come from a lack of physical power; it came from the excruciating precision required. Every time he shifted his weight half an inch too far forward onto his toes, his balance flickered. Every time he let his lower back arch slightly, his core alignment broke.

’It’s not about muscle,’ Rain realized, his eyes fixed on the fence line ahead, his breathing slow and rhythmic. ’It’s about structure. The bones have to stack like stone pillars so the weight goes straight into the earth.’

He adjusted his left heel two centimeters outward, tucking his tailbone slightly inward.

Instantly, the strain on his lower back vanished, replaced by a solid, continuous line of tension running from his upper thighs straight down through his calves and into the soles of his boots. It felt like sinking two iron posts into the dirt.

Tenski walked down Rain’s row, inspecting each student’s alignment with a sharp, critical eye.

He stopped beside Rain. Tenski stood there for three seconds, eyeing Rain’s grounded feet, his flat back, and the relaxed, unhurried posture of his shoulders. Tenski raised his heavy boot and kicked Rain’s side right above the hip with a sudden, firm thrust.

Rain didn’t stumble. His body absorbed the impact, his grounded stance transferring the force straight down into the gravel, causing a small puff of dust to rise around his right boot.

Tenski let out a short, approving grumble in his throat.

"Not terrible, kid," Tenski muttered, glancing at Rain’s face. "Your weight is centered. Keep your chin down another half-inch so your neck pathways stay clear."

"Yes, Instructor," Rain said quietly, adjusting his chin.

Tenski moved on down the line, shouting corrections at a girl three spots over whose knees were collapsing inward.

Rain kept his focus sharp, maintaining the stance as the sun slowly shifted across the sky. He failed several small micro-adjustments throughout the hour, his balance wobbling whenever his mind drifted, but each time, he reset his posture, methodically refining the physical baseline.

As he held the stance, his eyes casually swept across the training field, observing the other students struggling around him.

About thirty feet to his right, in the front row, a girl with a sharp blonde ponytail tied with red ribbons was holding her stance with remarkable, practiced poise.

Rain watched her quietly for a moment. Her form was exceptional, her posture was lower than almost anyone else’s in the yard, her back straight, her grey eyes fixed ahead with intense, unyielding concentration. Even without using Mana, her natural body mechanics were fluid and precise, a clear result of years of high-level martial arts training long before stepping onto the academy grounds.

Rain reached into the right pocket of his zip-up hoodie.

His fingers wrapped around the small, cool metal shape resting at the bottom of his pocket, the silver beetle earring with embedded blue crystals he had picked up off the class a week ago during their very first practical session. He had kept it tucked safely in his pocket ever since. waiting for a moment he could give it to her.

He watched her hold her stance, wondering quietly if she had spent the last week thinking she had lost it forever.

At four o’clock, the brass bell above the gate chimed, signaling the end of Basic Combat.

"Dismissed!" Tenski bellowed across the field. "Go back to your dorms, soak your legs in cold water, and practice Phase One in front of a mirror! If any of you show up tomorrow with loose knees, I will have you holding horse stances while carrying fifty-pound iron plates!"

A collective groan of exhausted relief went up from the forty students. Dozens of teenagers collapsed directly onto the gravel, rubbing their burning thighs and panting heavily, while others slowly limped toward the field gates.

Rain released his stance, straightening his legs. A pleasant, warm sensation flushed through his quadriceps as his body naturally cleared the lactic acid build-up within seconds. He wiped a light sheen of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, adjusted his shoulder bag, and looked toward the front row.

The blonde girl was standing near the weapon racks, unstrapping the leather wraps from her wrists. He couldn’t get a good read of her face from this far but she looked to be genuinely having a rough day as there appeared to be a frown on her face.

Rain walked over the crunchy gravel, keeping his pace casual and steady as he approached her.

As he drew near, the girl turned around, pulling her blonde ponytail over her shoulder.

Up close, for the first time without thirty feet of gravel and a training session between them, Rain let himself actually look.

She had a lean, sharp-boned face, high cheekbones and a full lips set in a calm, unreadable line, and a pair of clear grey eyes that held his gaze without flinching. Her blonde hair, damp at the temples from the session, was pulled back tight with two small red ribbons, a few loose strands clinging to her jaw. She was, plainly and without exaggeration, the most striking person Rain had ever seen in person, the kind of face that made anyone lose their train of thought for half a second before they caught it again.

She caught sight of him approaching and paused, her sharp grey eyes meeting his with a polite, slightly cautious expression, the look of someone used to strangers wanting something from her.

Rain didn’t make a big show of it. He reached into his hoodie pocket, pulled out his hand, and opened his palm directly in front of her.

Resting in the center of his hand was the delicate, silver beetle earring, its tiny embedded blue crystals catching the afternoon sunlight.

Her grey eyes went wide. Her breath hitched in her throat, her hands instantly flying up to cover her mouth.

"My... my earring!" she gasped, her voice dropping all traces of her stern combat poise, replaced by raw, overwhelming relief.

She reached out with trembling fingers, carefully lifting the silver beetle from his palm as if it were made of delicate glass. She held it close to her chest, her shoulders relaxing as a huge, genuine smile broke across her face.

"Oh my god," she breathed, looking up at Rain with eyes bright with gratitude. "Where did you find this? I’ve been looking everywhere for it! I’ve spent days searching the class after our first class a week ago!"

"It was lying near the edge of the striking mats after you fought Mumford," Rain explained calmly, his voice warm and easy. "I picked it up before I left. I meant to give it back earlier, but things got a little chaotic and I missed you in the process,"

"Chaos is an understatement," she said, letting out a breathy, relieved laugh as she carefully pinned the silver beetle back into her left earlobe, alongside its matching twin. She touched the metal gently with two fingers. "This is a family heirloom, my mother gave it to me since I was old enough to remember. If I had lost it for good, she would have killed me. Seriously."

She looked at Rain properly now, her grey eyes scanning his face, his frame, and the relaxed, steady posture of his shoulders.

"I don’t even know how to thank you," she insisted, stepping an inch closer. "Tell me what you want in return for this. I’m really happy to have this back. You don’t what you’ve done for me and I’d like to show my gratitude,"

Rain shook his head gently, a small, genuine smile touching his face. "I don’t need any of that. I’m just glad it made it back to you before it got stepped on."

She studied him for a second, clearly impressed by how completely unbothered he was by her offer to show gratitude.

She smiled warmly, extending her right hand toward him in a crisp, formal greeting.

"Well, then let’s start over properly," she said brightly. "I’m Abigail Ratchford. But you can call me Abby."

Rain pulled his hoodie down slightly, meeting her grey eyes directly as he reached out and took her hand in a firm, polite shake.

"Rain," he introduced himself simply.

The moment the hoodie came off slightly, Abby’s hand tightened slightly in his grip.

Her smile froze for a fraction of a second. Her grey eyes widened as a sudden, sharp flicker of recognition washed across her features. She looked at his face, then down at his dark hoodie, then back up to his blue, steady eyes.

"Wait," Abby whispered, her voice dropping into half-shocked disbelief as she connected the dots. "Rain? Aren’t you the guy on tv? The White tiger scam thing? Aren’t you the F-rank Carrier who survived the C-rank rift?"