Bright was heading toward the administrative building to collect a physical form sheet—apparently the Academy still maintained paper documentation for certain processes despite their soul-force technology—when he literally bumped into someone rounding the corner.

"Sorry, I—" Bright started.

"You again!" Celestine Aurin's perky voice interrupted. "Are you following me by chance, Private Morgan?"

Bright blinked. "How do you even know my rank in the army? I thought those kind of things were at least a tad confidential, Ms. Aurin."

"Well, I have my ways," Celestine replied with a mysterious smile. "And call me Celeste. We're peers here. Rank formality is unnecessary."

She held her own form sheet—Artifact Refining selection clearly visible.

"Artifact Refining, huh," Celestine observed, reading his selection. "Do you know anything about it? It's not an easy thing to shape metal to your will. It requires theoretical understanding beyond just having cores and hoping things work out."

"I'll learn," Bright said with more confidence than he felt. "I always do."

Mostly through desperate improvisation and hoping my fusion talent compensates for my inadequate understanding, he thought but didn't add.

"That's admirably confident," Celestine said. "Possibly delusional, but admirably so. I like that in a potential classmate."

Potential classmate, Bright recognized. She's also selecting Artifact Refining. That means we'll have an overlapping elective schedule. More interaction with this chaotic noble heiress would put me in an asylum.

Great. Just what I need. More complicated social dynamics.

"Any particular reason you're choosing Artifact Refining?" Bright asked. "Seems like an unusual choice for House Aurin heiress. Thought nobles typically went for Warfare Tactics or strategic specializations."

"Father's business is military contracting," Celestine explained. "We hire fighters. Equip them. Support their operations. Understanding weapon enhancement means understanding product quality. It also means being able to assess the equipment independently rather than just trusting the suppliers."

That's actually good reasoning, Bright admitted internally.

"Plus—" Celestine added with return of earlier chaos. "—I like making things. Creating something functional from raw materials feels more satisfying than just destroying things in combat. Is that weird? That probably sounds weird."

"Not weird," Bright assured. "Just a different priority than most students express."

They walked toward the administrative building together, conversation flowing with surprising ease despite Celestine's occasional verbal chaos.

She's strange, Bright thought again. But interesting strange. Like talking to someone who hasn't learned to filter thoughts before voicing them. Refreshingly honest even when her honesty is socially awkward.

"So Private Morgan," Celestine said as they collected form sheets. "Think you can keep up with this noble heiress in the Artifact Refining course? Or will your absent education leave you hopelessly behind?"

The challenge carried no malice—just a playful competitiveness that suggested genuine interest rather than condescension.

"I think I'll manage," Bright replied. "Might even surprise you."

"I look forward to being surprised," Celestine said. "Doesn't happen often. Most people are depressingly predictable."

Most people don't have a soul talent that transforms casual metals and refining into something unprecedented, Bright thought. But she doesn't need to know that yet.

They separated toward their respective dormitories, Celestine waving with an enthusiasm that seemed disproportionate to their brief encounter.

That was… pleasant?* Bright assessed. Unexpected. Potentially complicated given her house connections and my desire to avoid noble entanglement.

But pleasant nonetheless.

He filed the interaction away, and continued toward his room, his mind already shifting to other concerns.

-----

Back in the administrative conference room, Thorne sat alone, reviewing the first-year performance metrics with growing conviction that the apparent stability was an illusion requiring some disruption from his part.

They're getting comfortable, he thought. Settling into a routine. Starting to believe the Academy is just an enhanced training ground rather than a crucible, a systematic trial.

Time to remind them what this institution actually is.

Time to introduce real pressure.

He pulled up the Shroud gate database the school had collected—catalogued entry points into corrupted dimensions, ranked by their threat level and strategic value.

TIER TWO GATE - DESIGNATION: HOLLOW MARCH

Location: 40 kilometers north of Sparkshire

Threat Assessment: Moderate Crawler concentration, minimal Monarch presence

Strategic Value: Training environment for Initiate-rank candidates

Recommended Squad Size: 8-12 candidates with instructor oversight

Perfect, Thorne thought. Dangerous enough to be a real challenge. Controlled enough to prevent a complete massacre. Exactly what the first-years need to understand that the Academy isn't a safe environment.

Welcome to Sparkshire challenge. Prove you deserve to be here. Or fail and get filtered out before we invest more resources.

He began drafting the mission parameters, planning logistics for the movement to the tier 2 shroud.

He finalized the planning, and scheduled an announcement for the following week.

Let them have a few more days of comfort, Thorne thought.

Then we remind them what this world actually is.

What survival actually costs.

-----

Bright entered Room 247, finding Kildare once again in his usual position—silent, withdrawn, occupying space without engaging with it.

Still no communication, Bright thought. Still no indication what's happening in his head.

He settled on his bed, intending to review the Artifact Refining preliminary materials.

Instead,a strange sensation washed through him—not danger sense activating, not spatial awareness detecting a threat, just…a feeling. Premonition. Recognition that something was building.

Déjà vu, Bright identified. Like I've been here before. Like I've felt this before.

A place popped up in his head ,Grim Hollow.

The feeling settled in his chest like a weight—there was no panic neither was there any hint of fear, just recognition that the calm was temporary, and that the stability he felt in central was an illusion.

The storm was gathering even if he couldn't identify a specific threat.

Something's coming, Bright thought. Can feel it. Can't explain it. Can't defend against it.

But it's coming.

And we're not ready, at least some of us aren't,

Outside his window, Sparkshire's lamps illuminated the campus with a beautiful light that suggested safety and civilization.

While darkness gathered in ways the students couldn't detect and instructors were deliberately engineering.

That was the Academy education.

That was what producing the powerful actually meant.

Breaking comfortable illusions.

Testing capabilities under real pressure.

Discovering who survived when safety was removed.

And Bright could feel that test approaching.

Could feel the Academy's true nature about to reveal itself.

Could feel everything about to change.

Again.

Whether they were ready or not.

Whether they survived or not.

The trial was coming.

And there was nothing to do but prepare.

And hope preparation was enough.

And recognize it probably wouldn't be.

That was survival.

That was the cost of becoming a predator rather than just staying a prey.

And the bill was about to come due.

For everyone.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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.