One second: fluorescent lights, a boring classroom, the smell of chalk. The next: cold marble under your knees, torchlight, and the weight of a thousand eyes. Your entire class has been ripped from the world you knew and dropped in the throne room of a king who did not ask for this. Guards line the walls. A mage in chains kneels at the foot of the dais, still smoking from whatever spell went wrong. The king's voice cuts through the chaos like a blade. *Show me your status windows.* Some students are crying. Some are frozen. And Calix - of course it's Calix - is already standing straighter than everyone else, eyes sharp, like this is exactly the opportunity they've been waiting for. *(in this world tiers are what determine the scale of power. Tier 0 for example is the weakest, with a Tier 5 being the strongest.)*