Chapter 303: Anticipation

Xander held his gaze for a long moment.

He had spent two years as Student Council President.

In that position, you learned the difference between a student who fought for glory, a student who fought because their family demanded it, and a student who fought because they were terrified of being small.

​Lucian Ash wasn’t any of those things anymore.

"You’re not training to beat me," Xander said softly.

The earlier competitive edge in his voice had vanished, replaced by a flat, sober observation.

​Lucian picked up his jacket from the bench, pulling his arms through the sleeves. He didn’t look up.

"No."

​"You don’t care about the brackets for the Games, either," Xander continued, stepping around the mat to get a clear look at Lucian’s face.

"You don’t care if House Ash gets a seat on the High Council, and you don’t care if the Apprentice evaluators mark you down for aggressive form."

​Lucian reached down pulling the zipper tight to his collar.

​"You’re training," Xander said, "so nobody can ever put you in that position again."

​The air in the subterranean combat hall felt suddenly thin.

Lucian’s hands paused at his neck. His brown eyes met Xander’s gaze.

"Does it matter why?" Lucian asked quietly.

"It matters if it kills you," Xander stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"That works against a fellow initiate or even an apprentice, but against a Novice? There’s hardly a chance it could work."

She slid her digital tablet into her inner pocket and walked straight between the two of them.

"If you two want to analyze your emotional trauma, do it in the therapy wing. Some of us have administrative passes to clear before the six o’clock lockdown."

​Xander glanced at her, a faint, familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—the easy, effortless charm that had made half the lower years vote for him during the council elections.

"Interrupting a moment of profound personal growth, Talia? That’s cold. Even for a Varas."

It’s not growth, just bad tactics," Talia said without missing a beat, turning her back on Xander to check Lucian’s shoulder.

She pressed two fingers firmly into the muscle near his collarbone, watching for any sign of a grimace.

Lucian didn’t even twitch.

"Your left shoulder is tight. If you don’t ice that joint before tomorrow morning, you won’t be able to lift your arm."

​"It’s fine," Lucian said, pulling away smoothly.

"It’s not fine, but I know better than to waste my breath," she muttered.

The transition from the combat block to the main upper administrative floor of Pyreptar Academy was immediate and striking.

High above, sunlight poured through the geometric glass dome, illuminating hundreds of students moving across the polished walkways.

Digital banners hung suspended in the air, shifting seamlessly between standard academic notices—like the upcoming midterm exams and Student Council announcements.

Automated cleaning drones drifted silently along the baseboards, brushing polished granite floor tiles.

Crowds of students thronged the halls their wireless earpieces glowing faintly as they checked class schedules.

Look, it’s Gray," a second-year student whispered to his friend near the automated coffee kiosk, pointing toward the lift doors.

​"Is he competing?" the friend asked, leaning over his slate.

"I heard he resigned from the Council just to clear his schedule for the trials."

​"President!" a younger girl with her dark hair tied in a sharp pony-tail called out from a bench as they walked past, standing up nervously.

"Is it true the security protocols for Sector Three are changing tonight? My team had an late-night slot booked for the virtual range—"

Xander stopped, turning toward her with an easy, reassuring smile that instantly lowered her shoulders.

"Don’t worry about it, Sarah. The restricted lockouts only apply to the eastern wings."

Thank you, President!" she said, visibly relieved.

​

"Former President," Xander corrected gently, flashing a casual wave as he kept walking.

"I’m just a guy trying not to get hit by Lucian’s elbows these days."

The girl giggled, looking over at Lucian, but as soon as her eyes landed on the quieter youth, her expression faltered slightly.

Lucian didn’t look back at her, he looked straight ahead, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his pace steady and unhurried.

The faint rumors about what had happened to him during the Dark Maestro Incident were still floating around the lower classes—whispers that the Ash family scion had come back broken, reduced to a quiet ghost who barely spoke during tactical lectures.

​"You really love the attention, don’t you?"

Talia muttered under her breath as they passed the central fountain, where a group of Talented students were casually using their abilities to play an intriguing game of flaming baseball at the fountain’s edge.

"It’s called maintaining morale, Varas," Xander replied, waving back at a senior instructor who nodded respectfully from the upper balcony.

"People are nervous. Have you looked around? Half these kids have never seen a real high grade assassin in their lives, and now there are three different Great House delegations staying in the south dormitory towers."

The hidden world doesn’t care about their morale," Talia said dryly.

​They stepped into the main concourse, where the ambient noise of student chatter drifted over them in fragments.

"—what about the independent groups? I saw two guys in unmarked grey longcoats down by the west gate. They weren’t wearing academy badges or House crests—"

"—probably Mercenary Guild reps. The Veilrend Games are open to any recognized Novice or Apprentice who can pass the entry gate, remember? It’s not just the Great Houses—"

"—Julian Vance was spotted near the Arcana City Vault. My brother says he’s entering the preparatory trials under the main Vance banner—"

The atmosphere inside the academy was a strange, tense tightrope walk.

On the surface, it was a typical afternoon at one of the world’s most elite private institutions: teenagers complaining about term papers, ordering iced espresso and donutkrakens from the courtyard cafés, and arguing over rank placements in the seasonal dueling leagues.

But underneath all of it, however, the impending arrival of the Veilrend Games acted like an invisible weight pressing down on every hallway.

The Games were never advertised on public news outlets or mentioned on standard civilian networks.

The billions of ordinary people living out their lives in the cities beyond the mountain range had no idea that in less than two weeks, the absolute apex of the hidden world—assassins, Talented nobility, hidden syndicates, and ancient lineages—would be gathering on these exact grounds to spill blood for influence, authority, and territory.

They reached the central plaza leading toward the residential quadrangles, Xander paused by a massive, wall-mounted holographic display displaying the academy map.

"Looks like the first official delegation from the Eastern Covenant just checked in at the private airfield."

​"They brought six Novices," Talia noted, reading the small text scrolling beneath the map.

"And one Maestro as an observer."

​"A Maestro?" Xander raised an eyebrow.

"They’re taking this seriously."

Everyone’s taking it seriously," Lucian said quietly.

It was the first sentence he had spoken since leaving the lift.

"It’s the first time in four years the Games have been held on neutral academy grounds. Nobody wants to look weak."

​Talia looked at Lucian, her eyes softening just a fraction before returning to her sharp, composed state.

"Speaking of people who aren’t looking weak... have either of you actually spoken to Emily today?"

​Xander shook his head. "Not since last weekend. She’s still out at the HaleCrest estate, isn’t she?"

Xander shook his head.

"She’s still out at the Hale Crest estate, isn’t she?"

"Still... she has been isolated for nearly three weeks," Talia muttered.

" No messages, no updates. I just want to make sure she’s actually ready for what’s coming."

​"She’s ready," Lucian said smoothly.

​Both Xander and Talia turned to look at him. Lucian was looking out across the crowded plaza toward the grand stone archway that separated the academy grounds from the rest of the land.

"How do you know?" Xander asked.

​"Because she survived," Lucian said simply. "That’s the only test that matters."

​Before Xander could respond, a low, resonant chime echoed through the courtyard, a deep, metallic vibration that rattled the reinforced glass of the surrounding buildings.

​The student chatter in the plaza instantly died down.

Dozens of heads turned toward the main entrance gates. Across the high stone perimeter walls, the heavy steel security gates were slowly retracting into the bedrock.

A line of three sleek, black vehicles with heavily tinted, anti-ballistic glass glided smoothly through the entrance, escorted by four automated security drones hovering silently above their roofs.

On the hood of the lead vehicle, stamped in polished silver, was an emblem consisting of a stylized raven perched atop a shattered blade.

​"House Ravenwood," Xander murmured, his tone shifting as he straightened his posture.

"I didn’t think they were arriving until Friday."

​"They weren’t," Talia said, her eyes narrowing as she watched the convoy pull toward the restricted guest villas near sector One.

"Their primary heir must have pushed the schedule up."