"Eating and drinking is fine; the refreshnts are here precisely for that purpose. But are you children?" Mordo Chakol said coldly. "With all this noise, anyone passing by would think a group of bandits had broken in! With that kind of behavior, how do you expect to teach students?"
At his reprimand, several ntors couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassnt.
These were the very words they usually used to scold their own students.
They hadn't expected the tables to turn on them today!
Of course, it was clear Mordo Chakol was just establishing his authority early on, ensuring that none of the ntors coming here to learn would be difficult to manage.
Sweeping his gaze over the room, Mordo continued, "But that's beside the point. You've co to a new place and sat wherever you pleased without the owner's permission? Get up imdiately!"
Hearing this, a few ntors hastily moved away from the seats and made their way toward the center of the hall.
But Dean Bruce remained reclining in his chair, drawing the curious gazes of the other ntors. As Mordo Chakol walked closer, several of them smirked to themselves, anticipating that Dean Bruce would finally be put in his place.
After all, they'd been watching him with envy—the special treatnt, the beautiful companion at his side. They had been waiting for him to slip up.
Sensing Dean Bruce's unruffled deanor, Alita Miller continued to stand behind him, calmly massaging his temples.
When Mordo Chakol reached Dean Bruce, the other ntors held their breath, expecting a harsh reprimand. But to their surprise, Mordo simply chuckled and, in a teasing tone, said, "Well, well! You certainly know how to enjoy yourself. I don't even get this kind of service!"
"Keep resting; there's nothing here for you to worry about."
The entire hall fell silent. The ntors' eyes widened, disbelief plain on their faces.
They couldn't fathom how Dean Bruce, who had co from a small city like them, had managed to secure such privileges.
Who exactly was Dean Bruce?
In an instant, the minds of all the ntors, both n and won, were made up—they would definitely try to align themselves with Dean Bruce.
Dean Bruce closed his eyes again, but sleep evaded him. His thoughts ran wild.
Had they truly found information about his parents?
Where could they be?
Were they hard by the Nine Provinces Alliance?
Were there other organizations involved?
…
Dean Bruce's thoughts were still racing when Mordo Chakol eventually ca over and gently woke him. But this wasn't the ti to dwell on his questions.
"Co on, I'll take you to collect your supplies. By the way, do you want to stay in the academy dormitories?" Mordo Chakol asked quietly. "The academy operates on a points system. Even ntors need points for everything here. Of course, as a senior ntor, you'll receive a monthly allowance of 1,000 points."
Hearing this, Dean Bruce promptly declined, "No need to arrange a dorm for . I already have a place to stay in the city."
"Alright," Mordo Chakol replied matter-of-factly. "Most of the rules are ant for students. As a ntor, all you really need to keep track of is your points. If you have questions, feel free to ask ."
The so-called "supplies" turned out to be a single set of magical robes and an emblem badge that served as proof of identity.
The robes weren't mandatory outside of group events, but the badge was essential—it stored points!
Without points, you couldn't even buy a al in the academy, let alone access places like the library or training rooms.
After donning the magical robes and pinning on the emblem badge, Dean Bruce noticed Mordo Chakol looking at him with a smile. "Since you're Lord Cyb's recomndation, I won't assign you any set tasks. Which grade level would you like to teach?"
"First-year students," Dean Bruce replied without hesitation. It wasn't just to look out for Lucy; it was also strategic. Upperclassn had already experienced teaching from other ntors and often lost so of their initial respect for ntors.
If Dean Bruce intended to influence a new generation of students in the ways of magic, he'd have the best chance by working with those still in awe of their ntors.
New students would be much more likely to believe whatever he told them.
"First-years?"
Mordo Chakol nodded. "Perfect timing. The freshman induction ceremony is about to begin, and soon, you'll select your students. I'll have soone take you there. With your status, you can choose any students you like, along with two ntor assistants."
"Rember, when selecting students, you can't pull entirely from just one 'Talent Pool.' You'll need to pick a balance from each pool, and the cap is around fifty students."
With that, Mordo signaled to a nearby staff mber to escort Dean Bruce to the freshman ceremony site.
Dean Bruce raised an eyebrow, wondering what it ant not to choose exclusively from one "Talent Pool."
The Advanced Magic Academy was significantly larger than the junior academy. After passing through a small spatial teleportation array, Dean Bruce and Alita Miller were led to a building constructed entirely from wood.
Inside, over a thousand students sat cross-legged on the floor, divided into several square formations, all looking up attentively as a teacher spoke from the front of the room.
Several ntors who had co to observe were also present, standing on either side of the stage without stepping up.
On the stage itself sat over forty ntors, neatly arranged in a row. Most of them were quietly evaluating the students below, clearly beginning to select their future protégés, while one ntor continued speaking to the gathered students.
As Dean Bruce walked past the groups of students arranged in squares, he noticed sothing peculiar.
The group furthest to the left had far fewer students—only about fifty.
Luckily, he spotted Lucy Michelle among them.
[Talent Pools… I get it. It's like a prize pool in a ga, where students with similar talents are grouped together. They don't want us taking too many from one pool, so other ntors don't end up with only students lacking natural ability.]
[Co to think of it, my own system's lottery should be ready soon. I wonder what rewards I'll get with the next level up?]
[Previously, I could draw items capable of instantly defeating anyone below the Saint level. One more upgrade, and I might be able to harm even Saint-level beings!]
Lost in thought, Dean Bruce continued walking without slowing down. With Alita Miller beside him, he followed the staff mber's lead and stepped onto the stage.
The ntor speaking paused montarily, surprised by the unexpected arrival of yet another ntor.
But a quick glance at the glowing red emblem on Dean Bruce's chest told him all he needed to know. High-status individuals always had their privileges, after all.
However, so of the regular ntors, who didn't catch the significance of his emblem, looked visibly displeased, frowning at Dean Bruce.
Unaware of the full situation, they assud he was there to replace them, and their attitude toward him wasn't exactly welcoming.
If they hadn't been in such a public setting, they might have openly protested.
Unbothered, Dean Bruce found a seat at the edge of the stage, waiting for the ceremony to finish before making his selections.
He had taught students back in Notting City, but at the ti, he hadn't fully understood the system, nor had he found the right approach to help them grasp magic.
This ti, he intended to try again.
After all, teaching students at the academy would be much quicker than slowly training disciples one-on-one.
Seeing this unfold, the other ntors grew increasingly irritated, many of them whispering among themselves and questioning Dean Bruce's identity.
anwhile, a staff mber quickly approached the ntor who was speaking, quietly explained the situation, then respectfully took his leave.
The ntor maintained his composure, unfazed by the murmurs around him, and continued with his speech. When he finished, he addressed the crowd, saying, "Everyone, please quiet down. Next, the ntors will begin selecting students for their classes."
At his words, the students collectively tensed with anticipation.
In their eyes, a ntor was sotis even more valuable than resources.
Turning to Dean Bruce, the ntor smiled warmly and said, "Since it's ntor Dean's first ti teaching freshn, why don't you go first in selecting students?"
Dean Bruce raised an eyebrow, studying the ntor. Seeing the welcoming smile, he nodded in agreent.
After all, you don't turn down a friendly gesture.
"Wait a minute!"
Before Dean Bruce could stand, a lanky, almost skeletal ntor sprang up and protested, frowning. "Sinna, wasn't it decided that I'd have first pick this year? Why change it at the last minute?"
Hearing this, ntor Sinna's eye twitched in irritation, silently cursing the man.
This guy has no sense whatsoever. If soone's been placed here by the higher-ups, doesn't that an they've got connections? And you're still daring to compete with him?
And worse, he'd gone and voiced it in front of everyone!
Though fuming internally, Sinna kept his tone calm. "Brad, don't talk nonsense. When did I ever say you'd be picking first this year? The selection order is always random."
"You—" Brad's eyes narrowed as he suddenly looked toward Dean Bruce, his tone dismissive. "You seem unfamiliar. A newly appointed ntor—what makes you qualified to pick first?"
"In terms of experience and skill, I'm far more deserving than you are!"
As Brad's tone grew increasingly testy, the ntors and even the students began to watch the exchange with keen interest, sizing up both Dean Bruce and Brad.
Dean Bruce, however, wasn't one to back down. Glancing at Brad and noting the orange badge on his chest, he smirked and said in a calm voice, "With all that experience and strength, why aren't you a senior ntor yet?"
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