System, please just shut up

The hall was unusually quiet.

Not tense.

Not formal.

Just… waiting.

A palpable stillness hung in the air, a collective anticipation amongst the gathered students.

Kael sat near the back row of the open-air assembly chamber, arms folded, one leg propped on the rung beneath his seat, finding a small comfort in the familiar posture.

Theo was beside him, somehow balancing a mana crystal between his knuckles like it was a mere coin, his expression a mixture of boredom and casual concentration.

"Do you think we'll be on clean-up duty?" Kael whispered, leaning closer, his voice low.

"Doubt it. They'd never risk you near anything that important," Theo murmured back, his eyes still fixed on the shimmering crystal.

"Harsh."

"Accurate."

Before Kael could offer a suitably sarcastic comeback, a sharp pulse of light flickered at the very center of the vast room, drawing all eyes.

From the polished floor, a silver disc rose smoothly, humming faintly.

From it, a rotating, perfectly rendered projection of the city bloomed outward, hanging midair in perfect, shimmering illusion.

Aria Veyl stepped forward, standing behind the luminous display.

Calm. Poised.

A thin stylus in hand, its tip glowing faintly. When she spoke, her voice clear and resonant, the murmurs died instantly, replaced by a profound silence.

"As you know, the Moonwake Festival begins in five days." Her gaze swept across the assembled cadets, each one rapt. "This year's alignment is predicted to be stronger than any we've seen in the past decade. A truly significant convergence."

She flicked her wrist and the city projection zoomed into the central plaza, where geometric lines traced over rooftops and district borders, highlighting key areas with a soft, internal glow.

"The event will unfold in three distinct phases across three consecutive nights. I'll go over each briefly, so pay close attention." Kael leaned forward slightly, his eyes following the fluid motion of her pointer as she drew glowing shapes through the air, highlighting different sections of the map.

"Night One: The Procession of Threads."

A glowing path lit up on the map, weaving through the city's main districts like a shimmering silver snake, intricate and beautiful. "It's largely ceremonial, designed to foster civic unity. Decorative mana-thread lanterns will be walked through the streets, representing the unity of our kingdoms and our shared fate. Every faction is expected to contribute lightly—Silver Mane will primarily provide crowd supervision in a couple of designated sectors, ensuring smooth flow and minimal disruption. A straightforward start."

"Night Two: The Dance of Wards." The map shifted again, the city's surface pulsing gently as ancient glyphs and arcane circles, dormant until now, blinked into existence across its hidden foundations. "This is when the ancient wards beneath the city are renewed. Ritualists, rune-smiths, and mana-scribes will be working from sundown to sunrise, performing intricate, highly sensitive magic."

She paused, her expression becoming subtly more serious. "It's also when the city's ambient mana density peaks, becoming incredibly volatile. That means increased potential for magical disruptions. Minor hallucinations. Temporary equipment failure. We'll have to be on standby for rapid stabilization in case of any emergency, prepared to contain localized mana surges or unexpected phenomena."

"Night Three: The Moonwake Alignment." The map zoomed in, focusing intensely on a large, circular platform in the very heart of the city—a grand ritual site threaded with shimmering silver veins and etched with massive, complex sigils. "This is when the triple-phase moon convergence reaches its absolute peak alignment. The ritual here draws power directly from the moons themselves, funneling that raw cosmic energy into the city. It renews the ancient wellspring beneath Ardent Spire and completely resets the surrounding leylines, ensuring the city's magical vitality for another cycle."

Aria's tone sharpened, becoming steel-edged. "And this is when everything becomes unpredictable. The sheer influx of raw, untamed power can have unforeseen consequences, even with the most careful preparations." She tapped the side of the disc.

The display zoomed out, highlighting complex patrol routes, specific faction posts, and glowing barrier rings that would be erected around key areas.

"There's been… activity," she stated, her voice dropping slightly, lending a chilling weight to the word. "Low-level, scattered, but enough to raise significant alerts from our intelligence. If anything out of the ordinary is going to happen—if anyone plans to make a move—this will be the night they choose. The peak of the Moonwake is their most likely window."

The vast room fell utterly silent.

The Choir.

No one said the name aloud.

But every single person in that chamber was thinking it.

They had been becoming more and more active within the city lately, their audacity growing with each passing week, going as far as capturing guards and low-level officials, leaving them in states that were barely recognizable—empty shells, physically intact but mentally and spiritually ravaged.

The silent acknowledgment of this escalating threat hung heavy in the air.

Aria's gaze swept the room once more, piercing and direct. "Final assignments will be distributed in two days. Until then, train. Rest. Stay alert. And remember your purpose."

The map blinked out, dissolving into nothingness.

"Dismissed."

**Later That Evening**

Kael sat on the edge of the cool, rough stone terrace just outside the dorm tower, his legs dangling casually over the railing, arms folded loosely across his knees.

The city lights in the distance shimmered like a scattered handful of floating stars, each one a signal of vibrant movement and tireless celebration prep. Flags already lined the rooftops, emblazoned with the crests of noble houses and merchant guilds.

Vendors were busily constructing elaborate platforms in the plazas, preparing for the influx of festival-goers. Rune-chalk sketches, glowing faintly, already mapped the intricate street routes for the procession.

Everything looked ready.

Too ready.

An unsettling perfection.

Theo flopped down beside him, a comfortable weight, holding two small, condensation-beaded cans of fruit cider.

He handed one over to Kael.

"Still overthinking it?" Theo asked, his voice low, matching the quiet of the evening.

Kael shrugged, taking a slow sip of the sweet, tangy cider. "I'm not trying to."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the soft night breeze rustling through the leaves of distant trees.

Then Kael asked quietly, the question having been gnawing at him, "Do you think the Archive ever gets it wrong?"

Theo cracked open his can with a soft hiss and took a slow, contemplative sip.

His gaze was fixed on the distant lights. "No." The word was delivered with absolute certainty, no hesitation.

"Not even once?" Kael pressed, his voice barely a whisper.

Theo shook his head, a faint, almost imperceptible movement. "It's like asking if gravity ever took a day off. Or if the sun decided not to rise.."

Kael chuckled dryly, a humorless sound, then stared at his hands.

They were still wrapped in clean white bandages from his rigorous sword drills earlier that day, a testament to his relentless, self-imposed grind.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Theo asked, shifting slightly.

"Uhm... I have to pick out my first sword technique with Seraphina," Kael replied, thinking through the schedule he'd meticulously outlined, "Then I'll probably practice it for a while, try to get the basic comprehension down. After that, maybe go out on a mission to test it out—something simple, just to see how it feels in a live situation."

Theo nodded, a noncommittal gesture, but didn't say anything further, a silent understanding passing between them.

Below them, the city pulsed with growing light, a beacon of human activity and impending celebration.

And somewhere far beneath, in the places no festival lantern could reach, in the forgotten, dark veins of the city, something ancient and malevolent stirred, its presence a cold counterpoint to the city's warmth.