The message blinked on Clayton's wristband like a silent gong echoing through his chest.
"Elective Selection Begins Tomorrow. Report to the Central Pavilion at 9:00 A.M."
He still could not believe only a week had passed since he came to this world; it felt like a year to him. Every day there was a new battle and now this, the final boss of the first stage.
He stared at the notification longer than necessary. Of course, he knew this was coming—every student in their first year at Vyrith's Arcane Academy did. But now that it was real, the weight of it settled on his shoulders like a second robe.
Electives weren't just about classes. They were a statement.
Each choice you made—who you studied under, what path you leaned toward—shaped your alliances, your enemies, and, more dangerously, your visibility. Like they say in business, your allies and foes are decided by your interests, not by your friendships or enmities. In the novel, Election Day was when the true game began. The politics of the academy revealed themselves like a hidden board beneath the classroom floor. If i did not deviated the course, this will be the reveal of politics in novel
And unlike the duel, this time, there was no rule about how many people could target you.
Clayton sat on his bed, arms crossed behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"In the novel, this is where everything really starts falling apart," he muttered.
Elective Day was more than curriculum. It was a stage.
The seniors from the second year—powerful, polished, and already entrenched in factions—descended like hawks to observe the first-years. On the surface, they were just evaluating potential underclassmen for mentorship. In truth, it was faction scouting… and quiet intimidation.
And Clayton knew all the factions. He'd read the novel, after all. But it was only now that he saw how much weight each name carried when spoken aloud.
The factions were five.
1. The Pioneer Tower.
Idealists, scholars, and prodigies. They claimed to uphold the academy's values of knowledge and integrity, but behind that mask was ruthless meritocracy. If you were brilliant, they welcomed you. If you were mediocre, you were discarded like parchment scraps. Asher Augustus had mingled with them in the novel, although never fully joining. Smart.
2. The Iron Ring.
A martial order in all but name. These were the duelists, the card combat tacticians, the battle-obsessed elites. Their belief was simple: strength is proof. Charles had been affiliated with them before his defeat, and his loss had likely caused internal waves.
3. The Rose Pact.
Healers, alchemists, and nature-bound mages. They were the most serene on the surface—but beneath the roses lay vines that strangled. Their reputation for diplomacy masked how cleverly they positioned themselves between more aggressive factions. Sylvia, although being ice-type player had healing cards and was associated with Rose Pact in novel
4. The Black Veil.
Spies. Rogues. Information brokers. Never officially recognized, but everyone knew they existed. Their members rarely spoke openly, yet they always knew everything first. Clayton guessed Lily might be connected to them—or something even deeper, like one of the rogue weaver groups. Eric will be one of the core members of Black veil in the future.
5. The Gold Fangs.
The political powerhouse. Descendants of nobility, merchant guild heirs, and social climbers with razor-sharp tongues. They didn't fight battles—they bought and maneuvered around them. Cynthia, with her obsession with appearances and status, would've fit here like a jewel in a crown— but as a merchant heir , I need to associate myself with them.
And of course, outside the recognized factions...
There were the rogue weavers.
Their groups were never part of academy records, never openly allowed to form. They operated in whispers. Some just wanted freedom from control; others wanted to overturn the arcane order itself. And as the professor had warned the class just days ago, roguevers were more prone to corruption, to going mad from overexposure to arcane imprints. They walked the thin line between genius and self-destruction.
Clayton pressed a hand against his chest, where he imagined the imprint of the duel still lingered.
"Arcane imprint... it's real," he murmured. "And it's dangerous."
That surge of power against Charles, that moment when his cards reacted more fiercely than expected—it hadn't just been adrenaline. Something had etched itself into his soul, just as Professor Reese described. And if he kept fighting like this, kept drawing that deep from within, the price would eventually come due.
He had to be careful. Not just about his enemies, but about himself.
The next morning, the academy's Central Pavilion buzzed with activity.
The glass dome overhead shimmered with protective glyphs, catching the rising sun and refracting it through floating crystals. Senior students in second-year robes stood stationed at booths, platforms, and along the wide arcane displays that hovered midair.
Names of electives blinked in glowing script—"Advanced Card Synergy," "Ritual Binding," "Tactical Illusions," "Environmental Deck Crafting," and more.
The first-years filtered in like sheep among lions.
Clayton stood at the edge for a moment, scanning the room.
He recognized them instantly—the core second-years mentioned in the novel. Faces that hadn't played roles yet in the current timeline but would soon tip the scales. They were stronger and sharper, and their eyes held the calculating weight of experience. Some stood under faction banners. Others walked alone, powerful enough not to need backing.
And scattered among them were the main party from the first year.
Asher, talking to a senior with polite charm. Eric, arms crossed, watching everything silently. Sylvia, already chatting with an instructor in a healing-based elective. Even Charles was present, a little quieter, but not broken. The academy didn't discard its champions that easily.
And then there was Clayton.
A transfer with a reputation. With mystery. With something no one could quite name.
He took a step forward.
Time to choose.
Time to play the game.