By the time the first week of the month was halfway through, the air at Dawn Crest Academy felt… different.

The walkways seemed more alive, the voices sharper, the glances more measured. Every conversation carried a hint of challenge, even when disguised as politeness.

Competitiveness was in the air.

It wasn't the same as the usual scramble for AP or recognition. This was something deeper—an undercurrent fed by anticipation. The Grand Neophyte Festival loomed at the end of the month, and for the first time since enrollment, the freshmen felt it was their stage.

And the campus reflected it.

The central school grounds—an open expanse normally reserved for assemblies—were being transformed. Massive banners in the academy's colors were strung between tall, crystal-laced pylons. Sections of the plaza were roped off into neat rows of canopied stalls, each marked by the insignia of a different division.

The Trade and Commerce Division had claimed the most prominent strip, lining the central promenade with bright awnings and scent-laced displays. Stalls gleamed with everything from rare crafting materials to custom-engraved weapon handles. A glass case at one stand held shimmering beast-core fragments, each one radiating faint essence. Vendors called out to passing students, some hawking training manuals, others promoting "festival-only" contracts for future supplies.

Just beyond them, the Spirit Alchemy Division had set up their zone—a carefully ventilated section surrounded by shimmering air wards. Rows of tables were covered in cauldrons, distillers, and essence-crystal grinders. Colorful smoke curled lazily into the air, accompanied by the sharp tang of brewing reagents. Students in protective coats moved quickly, checking measurements and sealing vials, their spirit beasts assisting with everything from stirring mixtures to regulating flame.

Next to them, the Spirit Engineering Division's stalls whirred and hummed with life. Miniature constructs patrolled the tables, carrying sample talismans or small modular devices to curious onlookers. One stall displayed a compact, wrist-mounted crossbow that could collapse into a plain metal bracer. Another demonstrated a reinforced beast armor harness—adjusting itself automatically to fit the wearer's bonded creature.

Further along the row stood a wide, white-canopied tent marked with the crest of the Support and Healing Division. Inside, clean tables were stocked with salves, spirit tonics, and minor restorative elixirs. Volunteer healers moved between practice patients, their hands glowing with diagnostic glyph-light. The tent doubled as an emergency center, and its presence made it clear the festival wouldn't be just about celebrations—there would be injuries.

On the perimeter, the Enchantment Arts Division worked steadily, their role less flashy but equally crucial. They reinforced the stalls with layered wards—anti-theft charms, environmental stabilizers, and resonance dampeners to prevent interference between neighboring divisions. More than once, Aston caught glimpses of enchanters moving in quiet pairs, chalking glyphs onto hidden corners or recharging barrier nodes.

Stolen story; please report.

Security was handled by a joint effort between the Scouting Division and the Combat Division. Teams patrolled the grounds in rotating shifts, scanning for potential disturbances. The scouting operatives were almost invisible unless you knew where to look, while the combat patrols were far more obvious—uniformed, armed, and projecting a presence meant to deter trouble before it began.

For the students, the festival preparations weren't just a backdrop—they were an opportunity.

The academy made it clear: students could earn AP by participating in the setup.

Run a security shift? That was a few points.

Assist in stall construction or supply delivery? Points.

Sell your own wares in the Trade and Commerce section? Points again—if you met the official vendor requirements.

It made the grounds busier than Aston had ever seen outside of exams.

And when they weren't working in the festival areas, the freshmen were training.

—

Back in the first-year facilities, there was barely space to breathe.

Meditation rooms were filled from dawn until curfew, with students cycling through in two-hour rotations. The combat training arenas were booked solid, forcing some to spar outside on open practice fields. Even the smaller classrooms, normally empty between lessons, had been claimed for private study or beast cultivation.

Spirit beasts were everywhere.

Some students focused on refining their beasts' core energy, pushing for a breakthrough before the festival. Others drilled for synergy—running combat maneuvers until both partner and beast moved like one. The pressure wasn't just to perform well in the competitions—it was to avoid humiliation. The festival's first-year events were public. Every division would be watching. No one wanted to be remembered as the one who faltered.

Aston noticed a new divide forming.

Some confident students—those who already had high AP scores or strong reputations—had begun skipping non-essential classes entirely. They weren't being reckless; they were making their own training schedules, focusing entirely on their chosen events. But it made the halls feel… thinner. Empty chairs in class spoke volumes.

For Aston's group, the approach was more balanced.

They attended their core classes, but outside those hours they split their time between group training, solo cultivation, and the occasional mission. The security assignments were the easiest way to earn quick AP—they paid reliably, and as Shadow Ops personnel, Aston could subtly maneuver to get patrol routes that doubled as reconnaissance for his own purposes.

Still, he kept his pace steady. Rushing before the festival would only draw attention.

—

It was during the second week of the month that the festival details finally arrived.

The announcement dropped just after midday on a clear Wednesday.

The first sign was the sound of data-slate chimes going off across the campus. Then the posters appeared—glimmer-script prints displayed on every bulletin board and crystal notice pillar.

[Grand Neophyte Festival – Official Event List]

Aston spotted the first one outside the Spirit Integration Hall. Students were already gathering, some craning over others' shoulders to read.

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