The training fields were louder than usual.

Everywhere Aston looked, students were pushing themselves harder than before—pairs sparring until their beasts collapsed, groups running coordination drills under the watchful eye of senior aides, even the usually empty meditation circles occupied by first-years struggling to squeeze every drop of essence from their cores.

The festival had done what weeks of classes could not. It had turned nerves into fuel.

Aston adjusted the strap of his satchel as he crossed the courtyard, Gray perched on his shoulder in kitten form, his fur sleek and faintly glimmering. Mirage circled above, feathers catching the late-morning sun like shards of glass. Neither looked much different, but Aston felt it. Gray's breakthrough last night had been clean, decisive—and though Aston hadn't revealed it to anyone, the kitten now carried a hidden edge sharp enough to tip future battles.

Another card in his hand. Another step forward.

He found his group where he expected—at their usual spot near the eastern sparring rings. Rowan was in the middle of a drill, Verdy perched atop his shoulder, vines weaving in tight arcs as Rowan practiced using them like extra limbs. Lyra leaned against the railing with arms folded, her fox spirit lounging lazily beside her. Kai sat on the steps, head tilted back, sweat dripping down his brow. Seria stood apart from them, Lumine fluttering above her hair while Oriel—the sparrow—dipped and darted through the air in careful circles.

They all looked up as Aston approached.

"You're late," Kai muttered, though without much heat. "We started running drills an hour ago."

"Had business," Aston replied smoothly. "But I'm here now."

Rowan finished his sequence with a sharp motion and turned, face lit with quiet pride. "Good timing. Seria just ran us through another round of resonance chaining. Oriel changes everything. Lumine alone was solid, but now they link across the field like a web. It's ridiculous."

Seria gave a small shrug, though there was a trace of satisfaction in her eyes. "He's not fully integrated yet. But yes—the synergy is promising."

Kai grunted. "Promising for her. I'm still stuck at this bottleneck." He clenched his fists. "Everyone's getting sharper, faster. Rowan's already elite, Lyra's almost there, Seria bonded her second beast… and I'm—"

"You're still Kai," Lyra cut in dryly. "That hasn't changed."

"Thanks," he said flatly.

Aston didn't interrupt, but he studied each of them with a measured gaze. The festival wasn't just driving competition between divisions—it was reshaping his friends too. Their growth was visible. The pressure, too.

Rowan stepped closer, wiping sweat from his jawline. "We need to decide soon. Which events we're entering."

"Already thinking that far ahead?" Lyra asked.

"Of course." Rowan's tone was sharp. "The sign-ups open at the end of the week. Some events cap their entries. If we're serious, we can't waste time."

Seria nodded faintly. "The Integration Showcase fits us best. Our group synergy is higher than most, and with Rowan's new rank, our baseline strength is solid. But there's also the team battle arena. That could push us further."

Kai leaned back against the steps. "You say that like you're not going to breeze through no matter what."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Seria didn't rise to the bait. She just looked at Aston instead. "And you? Which events will you choose?"

Aston's expression didn't shift, though inside, the Shadow Ops directive echoed. Top three in any event. He couldn't tell them. Not yet.

"I'll sign up for a mix," he said evenly. "Something tactical, maybe something combat-based. Depends on how the brackets shake out."

Rowan smirked. "That's vague."

"Deliberately," Aston replied.

Mirage swooped low, landing on the railing beside Seria's butterfly. Gray stretched lazily on Aston's shoulder, making a small chuff that drew Seria's attention.

"…Gray feels different," she murmured.

Aston's lips quirked faintly. "He's been training harder."

No one pressed further, though Rowan's eyes lingered with mild suspicion.

They resumed drills after that, but the mood had shifted. Their laughter was thinner, their movements sharper. The festival wasn't just a competition—it was a dividing line. And everyone knew it.

—

By midday, the sparring rings were crowded. Too crowded. Aston called for a break, and they retreated toward the northern garden where the air was cooler and the crowds thinner. They found a bench beneath one of the spiritlight trees and unpacked their lunches.

For a few minutes, silence reigned. Only the flutter of wings and the occasional crunch of bread broke it. Then Rowan spoke.

"The history professor was right," he said suddenly. "This festival isn't just for fun. It's the academy's way of measuring us early. Sorting us."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "You just realized that?"

"No, I mean… think about it. Top thirty per division qualify for the arena. That's one in ten, maybe less. And they're rewarding the winners with resources that could push them ahead for the rest of their time here. Whoever places now could set their trajectory for the next four years."

Kai whispered. "And whoever doesn't might fall behind permanently."

Seria's tone was cool, but her eyes flicked toward Aston. "It's meant to pressure us. To see who bends and who sharpens."

Aston remained quiet. He was already thinking further ahead—not just about perception within the academy, but about how Shadow Ops would use this festival to measure him. The mission tailored for him wasn't about survival. It was about visibility. About making him a piece on the board that others couldn't ignore.

And yet, there was opportunity in that too. If he chose his events carefully, he could control the narrative. Guide what people believed about him. Just like he had with the Crimson Genesis Elixir.

He set his half-eaten lunch aside.

"I'm in," he said finally.

The others looked at him.

"In what?" Kai asked.

"The festival. The arena. The showcases. Doesn't matter which. I'll compete."

Rowan grinned. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."

Lyra smirked. "Then we'd better start planning. No point waiting until the brackets are set. We know who we'll face sooner or later."

Seria gave the faintest of nods.

Aston leaned back on the bench, eyes half-lidded against the sunlight filtering through the branches. He wasn't worried about performing. He was already thinking about positioning. The right combination of events could be used to manage perception. To sculpt the story they believed about him.

In his mind, he was already mapping it out.

—

The rest of the week blurred into training. Between classes, they drilled resonance maneuvers, simulated combat sequences, and pushed their beasts to refine skills. The academy itself seemed to hum with restless energy—every corridor buzzing, every courtyard crowded. Even in the dorms, the air was thick with anticipation.

But beneath it all, Aston carried the quiet weight of his own secret mission. Top three. No penalty if he failed. But failure wasn't in his vocabulary.

When the festival began, he intended not just to compete.

He intended to shape the way the academy remembered his name.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.