Meanwhile, back in the tent, under the layered hum of screens and the buzz of live mana feeds, the main control station for the exam zone felt packed.
Not loud, or chaotic, just tight, dense, and too many people are breathing the same air while watching data that keeps getting worse.
No one was shouting. But the tension was spreading. You could feel it in the way people leaned forward, the way chairs stopped squeaking, and how even the quiet tapping of keys started to feel loud.
It started small. A few mana spikes. A group of students lost contact for a minute. An alert pinged quietly about a beast crossing into the wrong zone.
They flagged it. Nothing serious. Just something to watch.
Then it started piling up.
Three more beast alerts. Two tracking charts froze. One of the maps flickered and glitched.
Another zone turned yellow. Then red. The readings weren't just unstable. They were crashing the displays.
