System, please just shut up

The snow crunched under Kael's boots as he stepped away from the Realm platform, the biting cold still clinging to his uniform like a stubborn frost. He exhaled, his breath steaming in the crisp air.

"Next week, then?" Seraphina's voice drifted over his shoulder, flat but final.

Kael turned, offering a lazy two-finger salute. "Same time. Don't ditch me."

She didn't reply, only gave a single nod before vanishing into the nearest shimmering portal, leaving behind only the faint scent of ozone.

Kael sighed, brushing lingering snow off his arms.

His body ached in all the usual places—shoulder, back, wrist—but it was a satisfying kind of soreness, a testament to his efforts. His task was complete. He had earned the right to his first technique.

And now, it was time for some official business.

He sprinted across the academy walkways, weaving through the afternoon crowd of students like a shadow in uniform.

With his rune-watch buzzing at exactly 11:04 AM, he caught the final boarding chime of the outbound line and leapt into the nearest mag-lev just as its doors hissed shut.

Destination: Silver Mane Headquarters.

The train shot across the campus, smooth and silent, a blur of motion past ancient forests, gleaming towers, and sparkling bridgeways suspended between distant spires.

It slowed only slightly as it pulled into the Silver Mane Terminal, a sharp-angled, silver-trimmed station carved directly into a hillside.

Its architecture shimmered with subtle mana lines flowing through its polished framework, pulsing like luminous veins beneath skin.

Kael stepped out, immediately greeted by the warm, clean smell of lacquered wood and polished steel, a stark contrast to the cold realm he'd just left.

In Obsidian Fang Academy, Factions are competitive, student-run organizations formed around shared values, missions, and long-term goals.

Think of them as a mix of guilds, private companies, and elite squads, but built directly into the school's very structure.

Built by students, for students, each faction was an autonomous unit inside the academy.

They handled their own missions, picked their own members, and had their own rules.

The academy allowed it, encouraged it, because factions got results.

They were the ones clearing new and unstable realms, tracking down rogue beasts, exploring forgotten ruins, and sometimes even negotiating in political matters outside the academy.

They were that big of a deal.

And in exchange, the Academy rewarded them with points, artifact access, training advantages, even funding.

But most of all they got recognition.

But getting accepted into one wasn't easy at all.

In fact, the acceptance percentage for first-year students was below three percent.

All members were the best of the best.

There were dozens of Factions in the academy, but only four truly mattered.

The ones every student knew about. The ones everyone either wanted to join, or wanted to avoid: Black Sigil, Nova Helix, Crimson Vale, and his very own Silver Mane.

The Silver Mane Hall towered before him, a five-story structure forged from pale, almost luminous stone and shimmering blue glass.

Its emblem, a wolf's head surrounded by a radiant starburst—was deeply engraved across the grand entrance doors, glowing faintly with an inner light.

Inside, the air shifted. It always did here.

Cool, brisk, clean.

The scent of ozone and lemon polish lingered under the rush of air through enchanted vents.

Sounds of laughter, the sharp clang of sparring metal, and faint orchestral music echoed from somewhere above, creating a lively hum.

Kael passed the front lounge, where a few members were sprawled on velvet-backed chairs, laughing over an enchanted board game, its holographic pieces dancing. He gave a casual wave. "Yo, Sora."

The short girl with the buzzcut barely looked up from her game. "Back in one piece today? Shocking."

He grinned and walked backward a few steps. "Didn't miss me too much, did you?"

"You wish."

He continued up the wide, central staircase, its polished white marble steps glowing with soft light from beneath.

He ascended past the second-floor training halls, where students were sparring under shimmering shield barriers that rippled with deflected strikes, then the third-floor mission review rooms, their walls lined with glowing maps and data.

Finally, he reached the fourth floor, the Inner Wing.

This level was quieter, the ambient sounds muted.

Here, silver-haired statues lined the hallway—founders of the faction, legendary graduates, even holographic portraits of current upper-year leaders hung like silent sentinels, their eyes seeming to follow him.

Kael slowed slightly here, not from awe.

Just from respect.

"In one piece today, I see." He suddenly heard a masculine voice from behind him.

Kael smiled, shaking his head.

He didn't need to turn to know who was there, but he did anyway.

Theo stood there, leaning against a wall with an almost casual grace, his hands tucked into his pockets. His blue uniform seemed to fit him with an inherent elegance, and a light, knowing smirk played around his lips, hinting at a quiet amusement.

"Disappointed?" Kael replied.

Theo pushed off the wall with a movement so fluid it seemed effortless, walking up to Kael before shrugging, his gaze calm. "Why should I be? There's always tomorrow."

Kael clicked his tongue, knowing there was no point arguing, he was just going to get defeated... again.

They both fell in step, moving deeper into the building's quiet hum.

"So, where are you coming from?" Kael asked.

"I had a realm exploration mission."

"On your own?"

"Technically, yes. But in my defense, I invited Jarik to help, and he, and I quote, 'I'm not dying for your handsome face.' So I assumed that was a no."

Kael chuckled in satisfaction. Seems he and someone else finally agreed on something.

"By the way," Theo said when they were just a few feet away from a set of pristine white doors, "we got a friendly fight invitation from the Crimson Vale next week. You in?"

Kael blinked. "Aren't they the meathead faction?"

Theo smirked. "Exactly. Thought it might be fun to watch you try not to get punched in the throat."