High above the Selection Grounds, beyond the central chambers and glyph-stamped floors, there was a place not marked on any official map. A narrow hall behind a sealed wall, layered in shadow, built for one purpose.
Observation.
A single figure stood within it.
Draped in robes that did not carry any academy's crest, they remained still, hands folded within long sleeves, face hidden by a blank metal mask. Only a thin slit across the eye line let light in and even that flickered with shifting runes.
They had been watching since dawn.
Most of the glyph patterns followed predictable sequences. Bloodlines activated in expected orders. Some cracked under pressure. Others barely registered. The four academies exchanged glances and notes, marking potential recruits, dismissing failed heirs, occasionally taking interest in an outlier with strong technique or rare dual Veins.
But the one called Kaien Vale did not match any pattern.
The observer tilted their head slightly as the glyph display in front of them flickered. Chamber Two had recorded something unusual. Not violent. Not disruptive. But wrong.
The mirror had cracked.
That was rare. Not unheard of.
But now Chamber Three had gone silent.
Not offline. Not broken.
Just… quiet.
The kind of quiet that happened when something inside the system tried to adjust without alerting the rest of it. A failsafe, perhaps. An instinct. The Selection did not like being confused.
The observer touched a sigil on the panel before them.
Information unspooled in rows of floating script. Candidate file: Kaien Vale. No crest. No lineage on record. Outer Ring designation. No history of formal Vein initiation.
Yet the system responded to him as if it recognized something beneath all that.
The figure leaned closer.
Another glyph appeared.
It was not standard.
Not authorized.
A mark had emerged under Kaien's blood signature one not linked to any divine house.
One not listed in the archives.
It did not translate.
The observer froze.
Then slowly straightened.
They pressed a second sigil. A quiet pulse traveled into the depths of the facility.
Not an alarm.
Not a call to action.
Just a signal.
Something unknown had entered the cycle.
And it had already begun to change the rhythm of the Selection.