Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 67

**Chapter 67: Boxed**

As the atmosphere in the auditorium buzzed with anticipation, Valia Townere, a spirited member of the Healing Department, couldn’t contain herself any longer. She rose to defend her friend with a fervor that was palpable. “It all went down last night,” she began, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “My friend was just trying on the Agriculture chief’s uniform in the dormitory when—”

A senior from Agriculture, a towering figure with an air of authority, appeared out of nowhere. “You’re not the chief,” he declared, snatching the uniform away as if it were a toy from a child. The crowd around them gasped, and the tension in the room escalated.

Miralys, her eyes sparkling with mischief, leaned in closer to Valia, a smirk playing on her lips. “You know how it goes at the academy, right? The chief spots are reserved for the top scorer of the entrance exam. So how did she manage to cut in line? Must be some sort of special privilege she’s got. Did you even check her scores?”

Valia’s gaze darted to Sylvara, who stood confidently on stage. “No, I didn’t check. But my friend insists it doesn’t matter what she scored. According to tradition, anyone is allowed to challenge the chief during the opening ceremony,” she explained, her voice steady despite the chaos around them.

That was indeed a fact. The Fifth Military Academy had established a rule that allowed freshmen to challenge the reigning chief during this very ceremony. If they emerged victorious, they would claim the title as their own.

Miralys leaned in conspiratorially, her voice barely above a whisper. “What’s your friend’s mental energy level?”

Valia couldn’t help but puff out her chest with pride. “She’s phenomenal. Level-3.5 mental energy and A-grade physical strength. Against someone who looks so fragile? She’ll send that girl straight to the ICU!”

Miralys’s grin widened, her enthusiasm infectious. “Exactly! Those who rely on privilege rather than skill deserve to be shown their place. It’s time someone stronger teaches her a lesson she won’t forget.”

Meanwhile, on stage, the upperclass chiefs settled into their seats, their eyes sharp and assessing as they scrutinized the freshmen chiefs.

Veyric, sweet-natured yet no fool, leaned toward Sylvara, his brow furrowed in concern. “Sylvara… doesn’t this ceremony feel different from what I saw on StarNet?”

Sylvara’s gaze swept over the sea of seniors surrounding them, and she raised an eyebrow. “Different? How so?”

Lowering his voice, Veyric leaned closer, urgency lacing his words. “I checked the rules before we came here. Seniors typically don’t attend the freshman ceremony. But look around—second-years, third-years, fourth-years, even fifth-years are all present. And they’ve boxed us in. If this turns into a fight, we’re done for.”

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