System, please just shut up

It was Kael's first time stepping outside the campus walls since that strange first morning—when he'd awoken in a body not his own, in a world pulled from half-forgotten stories.

Back then, the city had been a blur, too bright, too overwhelming, a dizzying assault on senses still reeling from the impossible shift. He hadn't had the opportunity, or perhaps the mental capacity, to truly explore it.

Now, the familiar spires of the Academy stood tall behind them, their sleek silver edges gleaming in the afternoon sun, a comforting beacon of disciplined knowledge.

But ahead—the city opened like a living mural, painted in warm ochres and burnished reds, glinting runes catching the light, and the distant murmur of a thousand human voices rising into a harmonious hum.

They had taken a portal directly to District 6, the shimmer of arcane transit momentarily disorienting before they stepped out onto solid, bustling ground.

The district was already vibrantly dressed for the impending Moonwake Festival.

Bright fabrics, dyed in hues of cerulean, emerald, and ruby, had been strung like grand banners between buildings, catching the breeze and twisting in long, colorful coils that danced against the sky. Ribbons of mana-light, each a different hue—soft golds, pulsing blues, vibrant purples—floated lazily overhead like slow-moving comets, casting shifting glows across the worn cobbled roads.

Stalls had already been meticulously set up along the main avenues, though the festival hadn't officially begun yet. Merchants were meticulously arranging their wares: polished charms, intricate perfumes, and shimmering street food that steamed gently in the open air, releasing enticing aromas.

"Man, this place still smells like cinnamon and trickery," Jarik muttered, drawing in a long, appreciative breath, his eyes half-closed in enjoyment.

Kael stayed quiet, too busy turning in a slow circle, absorbing every detail with an almost desperate intensity.

Everything was… alive.

The rich, layered scent of roasted spices, sweet baked goods, and the sharp, clean tang of mana-soaked ink from nearby scribe shops. The chaotic symphony of street performers testing their instruments—a reedy flute here, the soft thrum of a stringed lute there, the rhythmic tap of a drum. Paper glyphs, intricately drawn with protective runes for the coming volatile nights, hung on nearly every door and window, fluttering gently in the breeze.

He felt like he'd stepped into a different world altogether, a vibrant, breathing entity far removed from the sterile quiet of the Archive and the rigorous demands of the training halls.

"The city always goes all out for Moonwake," Jarik said, his voice relaxed but slightly louder to carry over the growing hum of the crowd. "The intensity increases every year. It's like the whole place holds its breath and then explodes with light."

They moved down a wide central road, winding past ornate tea houses and compact sigil-inscribing booths, most of which were still under construction, their skeletal frames promising future wonders. The three of them wore simple cadet coats with their faction crests tucked away beneath.

Kael spotted a group of performers rehearsing near a makeshift stage, all of them in flowing white and silver garb, their steps timed to a strange, almost hypnotic chiming rhythm. Behind them, a series of ceremonial masks lay in open crates—each one intricately designed like a different moon phase, cracked with faint veins of glowing mana that pulsed with a soft, internal light.

"This is the primary area we'll be stationed tomorrow," Jarik said, his casual air falling away as he pointed to a large open square surrounded by tiered steps, clearly a public gathering point.

The ancient stone tiles had been freshly scrubbed, gleaming under the afternoon sun, and crews were still setting up mana-lamps around the perimeter, positioning them with careful precision.

"It's a main convergence point for the Procession of Threads on the first night. That means we'll get the heavy traffic, the biggest crowds pouring in from all directions."

Four different roads spilled into the plaza, making it a natural bottleneck. Overhead, banners shaped like trailing stars rippled faintly in the breeze, a constant reminder of the celestial event. At the very center stood a tall crystalline structure shaped like a spiraled tower—a mana-beacon, glowing faintly even during the day, its purpose to stabilize the district's arcane flow.

"Doesn't look too dangerous," Theo offered, ever the optimist, his eyes still on the colorful banners.

"That's the trap," Jarik said, a wry twist to his lips. "Crowd magic isn't about direct danger. It's about chaos. Panic. The sheer, overwhelming force of mass hysteria in a high-mana zone." He gestured toward the surrounding rooftops, indicating various ledges and overhangs. "Those ledges? They look like good vantage points for spotting mana surges or a stampede. But only two of them are actually reinforced for weight. The others collapse if you put too much pressure on them. That corner alley?" He pointed to a narrow, shadowed passage. "Looks like a shortcut, but it's easy to get boxed in if someone panics and tries to cut through. Imagine a thousand people trying to fit through there at once."

Kael was already mentally drawing routes in his head, mapping potential trouble spots, identifying chokepoints, and visualizing defensive postures.

He didn't even realize he was doing it until Theo bumped his shoulder, a gentle reminder to ground himself.

"Relax, genius. We'll manage. You always overthink everything."

Kael exhaled, a long, slow breath, letting go of some of the tension. "I know. It's just… a lot. There are so many variables."

They spent the next hour touring the surrounding blocks, moving methodically, their casual stroll masking Jarik's keen reconnaissance.

Jarik pointed out key rune-locks embedded subtly in the street—old defense systems hidden in plain sight, emergency barriers that could be activated, or hidden mana conduits that might become unstable.

He even dragged them into a small, unassuming bakery that sold fire-dusted pastries, the sweet, spicy aroma filling the air, and Kael found himself nearly coughing into oblivion from the intense heat of the confection.

And through it all, Kael found himself quietly watching the people, the hundreds of ordinary lives that would soon fill these streets.

Children with glowing paper toys, their laughter bright and clear. Shopkeepers haggling playfully over intricately carved spell candles. A group of older citizens tossing mana coins into a ceremonial fountain, murmuring quiet prayers beneath their breath, their faces serene. Everywhere he looked, the city glowed with expectation, a deep, collective anticipation for the celestial alignment.

Eventually, the three of them found a quiet bench tucked beneath a sprawling willow-thorn tree near the edge of the square.

The branches swayed gently overhead, their leaves, usually a muted green, now imbued with streaks of pink and silver light, weaving through the foliage like natural festival garlands.

"You're unusually quiet," Jarik said, glancing over at Kael, breaking the comfortable silence.

Kael stared forward, watching a distant merchant light a string of colorful lanterns. "Just trying to remember this."

Jarik raised a brow, a silent question.

"I mean… for the past month, I've barely left a training hall," Kael explained, the words coming out slowly. "I forgot what it felt like. The noise. The sheer, vibrant energy in the air. How bright everything is, even the mundane details." The constant self-improvement and focus on his tasks had made him forget himself.

When was the last time he slept throughout the day?

Theo stretched out his legs, leaning back on the bench, his gaze drifting over the bustling market. "That's the world. Ugly, beautiful and loud as hell."