M Ranker Novels & Stories

My boots hit solid stone on the other side. The red-haired girl caught her breath, giggling as she leaned against the wall. “You’re the new girl, huh? The one who smashed the stone. I’m Mara, Rank 490.” She held up her string of broken badges. “I collect these from the ones thrown into the pit. Keeps me feeling lucky.” “Evangeline,” I said, sinking back onto my knees. “Does this happen every night?”

Caden's POV I sat on my bed and raised a mug of tea to my lips. Riven was in the bed opposite mine. He had one leg thrown over the bunk, flipping a knife and catching it by the handle. His brown hair had fallen into his eyes again. He hadn't pushed it back. Yesterday had been eventful. I had gotten the brightest light on the orb. Automatic Rank 1. I shook my head as I thought of the Omega girl who got Rank 7. She was just too weak.

When the department head told me to seat next to Jevro, I felt excited for some reason. About my power rate, I speak with the people who assisted me. Honestly, my power surpasses even those people from other countries. If we compare the ranking to the rankings of protagonists in every fantasy novel, Jevro's and other Black Malemyns are S rank. But me, I'm currently an SS rank. And if we go back to the rankings of the original Malemyns, I'm currently the new found Purple Stage Malemyn.

Against the back of the wall stood a huge choir. Suddenly, a young man, maybe 20, with long, flowing black hair, dressed in a tux, strutted proudly onto the stage. He cut right through the aisle of performers, heading for the center. As he did, the entire audience rose to its feet and applauded. “Who’s he?” I asked. He reached the center and bowed repeatedly, smiling. Even from up here, I could see that he was startlingly attractive. “Sergei Rakov,” Jonah answered. “He’s one of the best vocalists in the world.”

He pointed his fingers, "Anyway, for people with 50 to 70 necro, they are C rank, 70 to 90 are B rank, 90 to 120 are A rank, 120 to 150 are S rank, 150 to 250 are double S rank, while 250 to 500 are triple S rank. In Lumiere city, there are only five triple S rank." "Who are those?" "Zyrus Valencia, Marco, the city lord and I forgot the other two, but they are the glorious five of the Lumiere City." "Is there someone who's necro is above 500?" "There is." "Reeve Giraudus, I think he has more or less 1,200 necro." "That's a lot." I shook my head off and smirked, "Guess there's no way to be like him eh?" He snapped his fingers and grinned. "I wouldn't say that for sure."

“To be honest, I don’t really remember what I screamed. It was a little before… “Of course, a huge beast is rushing after you. I can’t even imagine how it is - a wolf puts a mark on a person, - Marta threw up her hands. - Huge mouth and thin neck! “It was more fun when she marked him,” Ba said. All the women, except those who joined us later, laughed. I was at that wedding ceremony, but I already remember the details very badly. "His mark healed much faster," Lark grumbled, adjusting the collar of his shirt to hide the bite mark. No matter how many years passed, it was still clearly visible. Wangity label, true pair label.

"I know, but I told you not to worry, the kingdom knows what it does. Those 3 are E-ranks but don't underestimate the abnormal nature of Avatars." "Listen, I understand for the balder boy, and I feel the power of this nosy guy but... An E-rank shaman? I can't let someone like that enter a D-rank rift." The members of the group looked at each other, Marie, biting her lip, raised her voice. "He may be an E-rank, but he's very talented. If we want to win we need him." "Y-Yeah, He's the one who trained me as a warrior, he's annoying but not incompetent!"

“Rank Two: Tabitha Ramsey.” One of Nessa’s group. “Rank Three: Mariah Keaton.” Another one. “Rank Four: Maria López.” Of course. The ranks continue. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Not me. My stomach sinks like a stone. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Still not me. What. The actual. Fuck. I kept up with everything. I ran in HUMAN FORM and still stayed with the pack. I didn’t gas out.

“Louder this time. The walls listen.” I swallowed. “Our bodies are vessels,” I recited, voice obedient, familiar words scraping my throat. “Our blood is borrowed. Our breaths are offerings. We are the chosen keepers of the Mark, the last gate between this world and the hunger beneath it.” “And the Mark?” she prompted. The skin on my left shoulder prickled as if it heard her. “The Mark is not a curse,” I said. “The Mark is the seal.” Mother Elara’s gaze softened, but not with affection. With reverence. With fear.