The grand doors of the Challenger Association slid open with a soft hiss as I stepped inside. Immediately, the sound of raised voices echoed across the sleek marble lobby.
"I'm telling you, I'm a B-rank! There has to be a mistake!" a sharp female voice yelled. "I took every test seriously, and you're giving me a C-rank!? I swear, I'll bring down this entire damn organization! My father works for the government!"
A young woman was arguing furiously with the receptionist. Her eyes blazed with defiance, and her dark purple robes—engraved with skeletal runes—hinted at her class: Necromancer.
The receptionist, clearly overwhelmed, noticed me the moment I entered. Her demeanor shifted instantly.
"S-Sir! Good afternoon!" she bowed deeply, rushing toward me. "We weren't informed of your arrival. If we had known, we would have prepared—"
"Bring the manager," I interrupted calmly, eyes briefly flicking to the commotion. "Now."
"Yes, right away!"
