System, please just shut up

"You still mad about it?" Theo asked, nudging Kael in the side as they walked past a string of glowing festival lanterns.

The evening was still young, and the city hummed with a deceptively peaceful energy.

Kael didn't look at him. "No."

Jarik snorted. "That was the most unconvincing 'no' I've ever heard. You're practically radiating grumpiness."

"She also committed theft," Kael countered, his voice flat.

"Minor theft," Theo said, grinning. "More like theatrical borrowing. It's not like she actually kept it."

Kael sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why are you two like this?"

"Because you're too easy to mess with," Jarik said, clapping him on the shoulder with a heavy hand. "Also, I think she likes you."

Kael almost choked on his drink, sputtering. "What?! She's cleary crazy!"

"I'm serious," Jarik continued, thoroughly enjoying Kael's discomfort. "That look she gave you when you finally caught up? That's interest if I've ever seen it. She clearly enjoyed the chase."

"I think she just likes trouble," Kael muttered, trying to dismiss the idea.

"Exactly," Theo said, nodding sagely. "And you, Kael, are trouble. A walking, brooding magnet for chaos."

Kael groaned and picked up the pace, eager to escape the conversation. "Can we not turn this into some weird romance subplot? We have actual assignments."

Jarik raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye. "Who said anything about romance? I'm just stating facts."

They all laughed, the kind of easy, loose laughter that only came when danger felt far away.

The city was still alive around them—music echoing down lantern-lit alleys, vendors calling out the last of their evening specials, families dancing spontaneously in the streets, their faces alight with unburdened joy.

It felt good. Too good.

Then it changed.....

The laughter faltered first—not theirs, but the crowd's. Somewhere deeper into the avenue, the joyful noise that had filled the air cut out like a dropped note in a perfect song, replaced by an unsettling, sudden quiet. And then—

A scream.

Sharp. Not playful. Not festive. This was raw, untamed terror.

Jarik froze, his smile dying instantly, replaced by a hawk-like intensity. "That wasn't a show, was it?" he murmured, his voice tight.

Another scream followed, closer now.

Shouting.

Then the unmistakable, brittle crack of breaking glass. The spell of the festival was shattering.

Kael's grip tightened around his drink, the plastic cup crumpling in his hand. "Something's wrong," he said quietly, his voice tense.

Jarik was already turning toward the sound, his head cocked, pinpointing the source. "South plaza. That's not far. Sounds like it's spreading."

The three of them exchanged quick, wordless glances—a silent understanding passing between seasoned cadets.

No need for orders.

They broke into a dead run, their footsteps quickly falling into a synchronized rhythm.

The crowd was shifting around them now, the festive flow turning into a chaotic current.

Some people were still oblivious, smiling as they watched a distant performer, but others were beginning to move, their steps hurried, their faces etched with confusion that quickly bled into panic and uncertainty.

The music faltered, a few of the enchanted lights flickering erratically as the crowd's energy shifted—laughter turning to confusion, confusion bleeding into raw, animal fear.

The festival blurred around them as they sprinted against the tide of bodies trying to move the other way—people fleeing, pushing, panicking.

Kael, fueled by adrenaline, pushed past a vendor who dropped his entire tray of glowing pastries, sending them scattering across the cobblestones.

Jarik, lighter and more agile, vaulted a wooden stall in a single fluid motion.

Theo's magic flared just enough to clear a path, a controlled burst of air parting the press of bodies for a fleeting second, allowing them to surge forward.

They broke through into the plaza at the very edge of the district—and stopped dead.

Chaos.

True, screaming, teeth-baring chaos.

Civilians were attacking each other.

Not sparring, not fighting with intent, but clawing at faces, biting, thrashing and flailing with no coordination, their eyes wide, unseeing, milky white with an unnatural glaze.

One man, his face contorted in a silent snarl, smashed a mana lamp against the stone floor, shattering it, shards bursting in every direction like deadly starlight. Another had climbed onto a festival stage, his body unnaturally rigid, and was howling—not words, just sound, guttural and raw, a primal scream ripped from his throat—as his skin pulsed with faint, angry purple veins glowing beneath the surface, a horrid network of light.

A woman staggered forward, blood streaking her face from deep scratches, her child clinging to her leg, crying in terror, but she didn't respond, didn't even register him.

Her eyes were milky white, fixed on something unseen.

"What in the world…" Theo whispered, his voice laced with genuine shock, his analytical mind struggling to process the scene. "They're all possessed."

Kael's mind spun, reeling from the sudden, horrific shift.

He had been mentally prepared for many things before coming here today.

Beast, ghosts, cultist and many more, he had been ready draw his blade if needed.

But this? These were normal people. Innocents or not.

Citizens, twisted into unthinking, violent puppets.

"Orders… what are we supposed to do?!" Jarik growled, already backing defensively toward a small family that had tripped and was trying to crawl away from a crazed man wielding a broken mana pole like a club.

His hand instinctively went for his blade, but hesitated.

How do you fight this?

"We don't have any!" Kael snapped, his voice raw with frustration and a rising sense of horror. "They didn't prep us for this! The Arch-Lecturer only gave us warnings, not solutions for this kind of madness!"

More screams rang out.

Something exploded down another alley—a mana flare, uncontrolled and destructive. Sparks rained over the rooftops, igniting small, fleeting fires.

A man sprinted past them, his face smeared with blood, his festival robes torn and ragged. He looked at Kael with frantic, terror-stricken eyes and shouted: "They're singing—they're singing inside my head! Make it stop!" Then he kept running, vanishing into the thrashing crowd.

Kael's heart thundered in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

His gaze swept the square, trying to make sense of the senseless.

He saw a little girl standing in the very center of the chaos, completely still, her small body trembling, frozen in abject terror, while two possessed women clawed at each other savagely right beside her.

Her eyes were huge, wide with unspeakable fear.

This time he didn't think.

He didn't hesitate.

He just moved.

Everything kicked in with a singular, overriding purpose: protect the innocent.