On the morning of the second week, the Academy stirred differently. Students poured into courtyards and thoroughfares not for training, but because something new glimmered across the announcement boards.

Fresh postings.

Every division bulletin, every public display screen, every spirit-etched slab—they all carried the same headline:

[Grand Neophyte Festival – Official Events and Guidelines]

Aston had expected it, but even he was caught by the change in atmosphere. The usual morning chatter was gone, replaced by a low, crackling buzz. His classmates crowded shoulder to shoulder around the main plaza, eyes shining with eagerness, voices overlapping.

Kai grabbed his wrist before he could slip away. "There! The list's already up!"

Lyra and Rowan were ahead of them, forcing through the crowd with the kind of urgency Aston usually reserved for battle. Seria moved more calmly, though her butterfly and sparrow both hovered in the air, giving her a clearer view of the board before they even reached it.

Aston didn't rush. He threaded through the crush of bodies at his own pace, Mirage gliding low above him while Gray clung to his shoulder with silent poise.

The board itself dominated the plaza's north wall—a towering spirit-crystal screen etched with gilded borders. It pulsed with runes that displayed the events in perfect clarity.

The list scrolled slowly, names shimmering into view one line at a time:

Spirit Alchemy Sprint – timed brewing under unknown constraints.

Field Engineering Gauntlet – rapid construction in crisis scenarios.

Integration Tactics Showcase – cooperative resonance drills.

Arena Skirmish Matches – elimination duels, solo and duo.

First-Year Arena (Singles) – capstone event, invite-only.

Merchant Royalty – trade and barter simulation for resource accumulation.

Curing Company – large-scale medical coordination challenge.

First-Year Arena (Teams) – tactical team-based arena matches.

Beneath the list, guidelines appeared:

Event sign-ups open immediately, close by week's end.

AP performance, instructor recommendation, and conduct factor into eligibility.

Participation in more than three events requires special approval.

First-Year Arena (Singles) remains by invitation only: top thirty per division.

First-Year Arena (Teams) rules will be announced on the second day of the festival.

The crowd was electric.

"Alchemy Sprint's mine!" one boy shouted.

"Forget that, skirmish is where the real glory is."

"Merchant Royalty's basically for the Trade Division nerds—easy win for them."

"You kidding? Team Arena's new. No one knows what to expect. That's the one worth trying."

Kai leaned forward, eyes wide. "Look at this! Team battles! They never had this before."

Lyra smirked. "Which means it'll be chaos."

Rowan folded his arms, gaze fixed on the board. "Chaos we can use."

Aston studied the postings with a detached calm. To most, this was opportunity. To him, it was also a puzzle. Shadow Ops had tasked him with placing in the top three of something. The safest path would be Integration Tactics, where group synergy mattered more than raw spectacle. But the most visible path—the one that shaped reputation—was the arena.

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His eyes lingered on the bold letters of the First-Year Arena (Singles). Top thirty. Invite-only. He would qualify without issue, but if he went all out…

He stopped that thought. Visibility was a tool. Not an indulgence.

"Which ones are you thinking of?" Seria asked quietly beside him.

Aston didn't answer right away. He scanned the crowd first—the way students clustered around certain events. Alchemy and Engineering were already drawing their respective divisions. The Combat Strand crowded the Arena postings. Support and Healing students debated the new Curing Company challenge with nervous excitement.

"This isn't about choosing," Aston said at last. "It's about predicting where the academy wants us to stand."

Kai blinked. "That's a weird way of putting it."

Lyra tilted her head. "But he's right. They aren't just testing strength—they're sorting us.

Whoever wins each event gets pushed forward. Into the spotlight. Into future roles."

Rowan's jaw tightened. "Then we can't afford to be careless."

The announcement board pulsed once more, projecting an additional message:

[Festival Prizes: Winners will be awarded specialized resources, priority training access, and long-term privileges to aid progression. Items will vary by event.]

That line caused another eruption of noise.

"Priority training slots?"

"Resources? Does that mean rare elixirs?"

"Long-term privileges? What does that even mean?"

Aston's gaze narrowed. He already knew, thanks to Shadow Ops, that the prizes weren't just trinkets. They were long-term leverage. Whoever won would shape their trajectory for the rest of their academy years.

He turned away from the crowd at last.

"We'll discuss at lunch," he said simply. "Too noisy here."

The others followed without protest.

—

The dining hall was no quieter. The festival's announcement dominated every table, every conversation. Even the upper-years leaned against the walls, smirking at the first-years scrambling to decide their fates.

Aston and his group claimed a table near the windows, food barely touched as Rowan spread a slate across the surface. He had already pulled up the event listings.

"We're not spreading thin," Rowan said. "If we split across too many, none of us will rank. Focused entries give us the best odds."

"Integration Showcase is obvious," Seria said. "Our synergy is high. With proper chaining, we can dominate."

Lyra leaned back in her chair. "Then team arena. If it's new, no one has strategies yet. Nobody knows the rules even. Chaos works in our favor."

Kai frowned. "That leaves one more slot. Who's doing singles?"

The table went quiet.

Aston knew they were looking at him, even if no one said it outright. His reputation—murky, doubted, but undeniable—made him the natural candidate. He didn't flinch from the silence.

"I'll enter," he said. "But only if it aligns with what we plan. We use the singles to draw eyes. The team and integration events to secure placement."

Rowan nodded slowly. "That could work."

Lyra smirked. "So the Crimson Genesis boy takes center stage again. Fitting."

Aston didn't respond. He didn't need to.

The truth was already set: Shadow Ops had made his role inevitable. But to his team, this was strategy. To the academy, it would be spectacle. And to him?

It would be another step forward.

—

By the time they left the dining hall, the campus was humming louder than ever. Posters glowed on every wall, schedules etched into every board. Students rushed to training fields, to workshops, to beast cultivation rooms. The festival wasn't here yet, but its shadow loomed over every corner of the academy.

Aston walked quietly beside his group, Gray purring faintly on his shoulder, Mirage gliding in silence above. His mind was already shifting, mapping the weeks ahead, calculating which steps to show—and which to hide.

Because when the festival came, it wouldn't just be about winning.

It would be about rewriting the way everyone saw him.

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