The beast cultivation hall was busier than Aston had ever seen it. Even from outside the arched entrance, he could feel the essence density seeping through the air, thick and electric. Voices overlapped—trainers calling for timing, beasts rumbling in their pens, the occasional flare of raw power vibrating against the reinforced walls.

He walked in, Nova's note from last night still fresh in his mind:

—

[Gray, the Obsidian Claw Tiger - Breakthrough: Imminent]

[Resonance Stabilization: 98.6%]

[Core Ring Tension: 98.9%]

[Breakthrough to 3-star imminent.]

—

The timing couldn't have been better—or worse, depending on perspective.

The Grand Neophyte Festival was a looming storm over the academy. And with it came an unspoken truth: those who wanted to be seen, to rank, to survive… were all pushing themselves to their limits. Which meant every cultivation facility, every training yard, every beast evolution chamber was booked solid.

At the reception crystal, a young attendant in gray-and-gold robes glanced up as Aston approached. "ID, please."

He slid his identicard across the smooth counter. The attendant placed it against the crystal pedestal; faint glyphs shimmered as they verified his status. "You're here for a beast breakthrough slot?"

Aston nodded once.

The man tapped a screen, brows twitching. "You're lucky. Three slots left for today. You'll have the third to last. Room twenty-seven."

Aston exhaled, just enough to loosen the tension in his chest. "Noted."

His luck had been razor-thin. A few more minutes, and he might have had to wait days—and with Gray's essence already surging, delaying the breakthrough could have caused instability.

Walking down the long hallway, he passed sealed chambers on both sides. Their rune-etched doors pulsed faintly with life, muffling the sounds within—growls, wingbeats, sharp bursts of elemental essence. Some doors bore the sigils of advanced beast types, marks of species whose power could easily shred the hall apart if not contained.

But what caught Aston's attention wasn't the variety. It was the intensity.

Everywhere he looked, there was urgency. First-years emerging from their sessions with wild, feverish eyes. Beasts shaking off the shimmer of a just-completed evolution. Attendants moving quickly between rooms with carts of refined essence stones and stabilizing talismans.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Weak or strong, every student seemed to be here.

He thought back to his own early days in Dawn Crest. Back then, the cultivation halls felt almost leisurely—scheduled growth, long recovery breaks, a sense that time was abundant. Now, with the festival less than a month away, that illusion had been shattered.

The door to Room 27 slid open at his approach.

Inside, the space was a compact circle—walls layered with insulating glyphs, a shallow basin at the center for essence flow, and a soft glow overhead to keep beasts calm.

Gray padded in beside him, tail flicking lazily at first… but Aston could feel the way the kitten's internal rhythm was shifting. The tiny obsidian claws clicked once against the stone before the little tiger settled in the basin. His azure eyes gleamed with restless anticipation.

Aston crouched down. "All right. Just like we practiced. Don't force it—ride the surge."

Gray's ears flicked back in acknowledgment.

The door sealed shut, and the runes in the walls pulsed once—activating the isolation barrier.

The moment the first pulse of refined essence filled the chamber, Gray's posture changed. His spine arched, fur bristling slightly, and the lines of his small frame seemed to blur as his core began to draw in the energy around him. The air hummed.

The process wasn't violent, but it was intense. Gray's body glowed faintly at the seams of his form—his stripes shifting with a metallic sheen, his breathing deep and steady. Each inhalation pulled more essence from the environment; each exhale shimmered with refined traces of that power.

Time lost meaning inside the cultivation room. Aston's eyes tracked the subtle shifts in Gray's stance, the ripple of muscles adjusting, the faint tightening of his claws against the basin floor.

The kitten's tail lashed once, twice, before stilling entirely as focus reached its peak.

Then, with a deep rumbling growl that was almost too low to hear, Gray's core flared.

It wasn't a blinding explosion of light—it was sharper than that. Controlled. A compact burst that made the runes on the walls pulse in sequence, locking in the chamber's barrier until the last echoes of power faded.

Nova's voice chimed again:

[Resonance spike: Core tension released. Ring formation complete.]

Gray opened his eyes slowly. The blueness within them seemed richer, deeper—like the ocean being reflected by the sky.

Aston approached, kneeling to run a hand over the kitten's head. "Well done."

Gray leaned into the touch for a moment, then stepped out of the basin with the grace of a predator. His movements were quieter now, more deliberate. Even his shadow seemed heavier, like it carried a sharper edge.

Aston read Nova's new analysis on Gray silently, his lips pressing into a faint smile.

Another trump card.

He didn't need to tell anyone what Gray had just gained. Secrets were like sharpened claws; they were only dangerous if kept sheathed until the right moment.

He dismissed the interface and stood, gesturing for Gray to follow. The kitten padded to his side without hesitation, tail curling slightly in satisfaction.

As they exited the room, Aston's gaze swept the corridor again. Students still pushed themselves at every door, chasing their own breakthroughs, their own trump cards. The festival had turned Dawn Crest into a crucible, burning away hesitation and forging whatever was left.

He had no intention of showing all his cards yet. But with Gray's new strength added to his arsenal, the board had just shifted a little more in his favor.

And in a competition where perception mattered almost as much as power, that was worth more than any points.

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