As the final ring of glyphs faded into the air, Professor Veris gently lowered his hands and stood.

"That'll be all for today."

His voice, though calm, held a quiet decisiveness—like the slow closing of a book you weren't quite ready to stop reading.

"You've glimpsed the ladder," he continued, sweeping his gaze over the seated students. "How far you climb depends not only on your potential, but also your patience. Class dismissed."

The students rose slowly, many still absorbing the weight of the ranking system, their minds spinning with terms like Knight, Baron, and Emperor rank. Conversations started in hushed murmurs, some filled with awe, others with skepticism.

Aston remained in place for a moment.

Emperor Rank.

He closed his eyes again briefly.

Black potential…

He once again remembered the vial.

[Umbral Ascent Elixir no longer required.]

[...however, gold potential surpasses black…]

Nova's words flashed across his memory with much deeper weight.

If Black potential was mythic—then what am I?

He opened his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. Too many answers lay shrouded behind a silence only time would break.

—

"Hey."

A gentle voice pulled him back.

Seria had walked over, her butterfly fluttering faintly near her ear like a flickering brooch. She tilted her head with a soft smile.

"You okay? You kinda zoned out there."

Aston gave a small nod. "Just thinking."

"About the last part, right? That got me thinking, too. Emperor rank? That's some fantasy-novel nonsense. Still… kinda makes you wonder."

While talking, Genevieve approached them.

"Hello, I'm Aston's friend, Genevive. You kinda look familiar… Weren't you in the big tent after the final trial in Shale? One of the other groups?"

"Hi, my name is Seria. I remember seeing you there too," Seria nodded, dabbing her lips with a napkin.

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"This guy and I got tossed into the same team during the final trial. You should've seen how he found us during the race to the wagons," Genevieve said, offering her hand.

Seria accepted the handshake with quiet poise. "Seria Sacramento. I sat with Aston during the written exam. We both noticed how little he seemed to stress."

Genevieve raised a brow and shot a sideways glance at Aston. "Consistent, huh?"

Aston simply shrugged, "I was focused."

"Focused and expressionless," Seria corrected softly, her butterfly flickering once at her temple.

Genevieve laughed. "Okay, I like you already."

The handshake broke, but a thread of friendship had formed.

"Looks like we've all circled each other once or twice," Genevieve said. "About time we made it official."

"I'm gonna go grab some lunch before the next class starts. 1:00 PM, right?" Seria asked, confirming their schedules.

"Yeah, I got FOU-105—Applied Battle Tactics." Genevieve confirmed, then looked at Aston. Seria's gaze also shifted to him.

Aston nodded, "Yeah, my next class is at 1:00 PM. FOU-103."

"Well that settles it, then. Let's go."

The trio made their way down the spiraled halls toward the lunch pavilion. The building was open-air, framed with metal beams and floating crystal windows that adjusted tint with the sunlight. Several long tables spanned its length, filled with students from different divisions and their spirit beasts lounging by their sides or tucked neatly beneath benches.

Aston found an empty table beneath a flowering spirit-bloom tree, whose petals shifted hues with the hour. Gray claimed a shaded spot, curling up as if he'd fought in a war. Mirage tucked its wings and perched silently on the backrest.

Genevieve plopped down beside Seria, who was already halfway through slicing an apple into perfect cubes with the help of her butterfly's prismatic wing.

Aston kept to himself, poking at the glazed grain dumplings and spirit-egg roll that were today's special. His mind was quieter now—but not clear.

"You know," Seria said between bites, "I used to think I'd hit Master rank one day. Now, I'm wondering if I'll ever reach that."

"You will," Genevieve said calmly. "Just walk forward."

Seria groaned dramatically. "Why are you always so calm?"

"Well, if you must know," Genevieve proudly said, "you're speaking to one of—" she paused, and after thinking for a split second, continued while laughing half-heartedly, "...never mind. Someone had to be calm."

Aston gazed curiously at Genevieve. She also almost said something during their final trial.

Well, whatever… It's not really my concern… Everybody had secrets…

Then, just as he lifted his chopsticks again, he felt it.

A prickle—like air pressure shifting without wind.

He glanced up across the pavilion.

He saw… nothing out of the ordinary. But he could swear in his mind that there was someone looking at him. After a few seconds, the feeling stopped.

Was it my imagination? But I'm certain that…

"Hey, Aston. Anything wrong?"

Genevieve asked the mindless Aston with chopsticks in the air, seemingly looking at the distance.

Aston just shrugged, "Nothing. I was thinking about something."

Their meals resumed with an air of quiet camaraderie.

—

Behind a column of the opposite building. A silhouette of a robed woman can be seen, with something wrapping around her neck, like a scarf.

"Interesting… That boy could feel my intent… Let's wait for a few months, Clarica. When the time comes…"

After saying those words, the 'scarf' on her neck began writhing, its head popped out and stared into the woman's face. Its tongue flicked as it hissed back into the robe.

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