Amberine, a spirited young mage with fiery red hair and a temper to match, paced back and forth in front of the waiting chairs. Her eyes darted to the ornate clock hanging on the wall, its hands inching painfully slow. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, crossing her arms in frustration. "We waited for hours last week, only to find out that Professor Draven went back to his domain without any notice.
He's too irresponsible!"
The other students exchanged nervous glances, wary of Amberine's outburst. There was Clara, a quiet and studious girl with a penchant for divination; Harlen, a lanky youth who specialized in elental magic; and Jorin, a stocky, earnest fellow who had a knack for enchanting. They all shared the sa uneasy anticipation, though none dared voice their complaints as openly as Amberine.
"Amberine, you should be careful," Clara whispered, her eyes darting towards the door. "Professor Draven might hear you."
Amberine scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I don't care if he hears . Soone needs to call him out on his behavior. We're supposed to be his supervised students, yet he treats us like we're an afterthought!?"
"Ahaha..." Yuli, Draven's assistant could only laugh dryly with a wry smile.
Harlen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, casting a cautious look down the hall. "Still, it's probably not wise to provoke him. You know his reputation."
Amberine was about to retort when the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor. They were asured, deliberate, and unmistakably familiar. The air in the hall seed to grow colder, the shadows lengthening as if retreating from the presence approaching. Amberine's defiant expression faltered, her face paling as she recognized the cadence of those steps.
Professor Draven appeared at the end of the hall, his black coat billowing behind him. His dark hair was impeccably grood, and his eyes, sharp and piercing, swept over the students with a critical gaze. The air around him crackled with an unspoken authority that silenced any further grumblings.
Amberine quickly averted her gaze, her earlier bravado evaporating. The other students straightened in their seats, their expressions a mix of respect and apprehension. Professor Draven's presence was commanding, and despite his recent absences, his influence over his students was undeniable.
"Students," Draven said, his voice even and cold. "Enter."
With a swift motion, Draven unlocked his office door and gestured for the students to enter. The room beyond was a testant to his ticulous nature. Shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tos and magical artifacts. A large desk dominated the center, its surface covered with neatly arranged papers and instrunts.
Amberine, Clara
, Harlen, and Jorin filed into the room.
Looking at them standing like fools made Draven frown. "Sit down,"
The hasten to take their seats around the desk. Draven closed the door behind them and took his place at the head of the table, his presence imposing.
"Why are you here?" Draven asked, his eyes fixed on Amberine.
Amberine swallowed hard, her mind racing to recall their reason for being here. "Um, yes, Professor," she began, her voice wavering slightly. "We are here because we are your new supervised students for this sester. We were told you would guide us in our academic and magical pursuits."
Draven nodded once, his expression inscrutable. "Correct. What do you expect from this supervision?"
Harlen hesitated, then spoke up. "We expect to learn and grow under your guidance, Professor. To beco better mages and scholars."
Draven's gaze shifted to each student in turn. "Understand this: my standards are high. You will et them or fail. Discipline and dedication are essential."
Clara nodded, her eyes wide with determination. "We understand, Professor."
Draven continued, "My role is to guide and ntor you. I will not coddle you. Expect challenges and be prepared to overco them."
Professor Draven's gaze lingered on Amberine, a dark amusent flickering in his eyes. "First impressions," he began, his voice dropping to an even lower register that sent shivers down their spines. "They can be deceiving, can't they?"
A bead of sweat trickled down Amberine's temple. Was he referring to her outburst? Did he intend to punish her? No one dared to breathe as Draven continued.
"Most students co here expecting to be dazzled by grand displays of magic, to learn flashy spells that will impress their peers. Unfortunately, such frivolity has no place in my tutelage." His eyes swept the room, taking in each student's apprehensive face. "Magic is a demanding art, a dance with forces beyond your comprehension.
It requires unwavering focus, an iron will, and a willingness to face the consequences of your actions."
He fixed his gaze on each student in turn. "Tell , do any of you know the ranking system for magicians?"
Harlen raised his hand hesitantly. "I think I know so of it, Professor," he said, glancing nervously at his peers. "There's Initiate, Neophyte, Magister... and then I'm not sure about the rest."
Draven nodded slightly, turning his attention to Jorin. "What about you?"
Jorin cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable under Draven's intense scrutiny. "I know a bit more, Professor. After Magister, there's Mystic and then Enlightened, I believe. But I'm not sure what cos after that."
Clara spoke up softly, "I've heard about Ethereal and Archmage, but I don't know the specifics."
Amberine remained silent, her earlier bravado completely gone under Draven's cold gaze.
"Very well," Draven said, his voice crisp. "I will explain."
He began pacing the room slowly, his presence filling the space with an air of authority. "The ranking system for magicians is as follows:
Initiate: The first step for any aspiring magician. Initiates learn the very basics of magical theory and practice, often focusing on simple cantrips and charms. This is where you all started.
Neophyte: A step above Initiate, Neophytes have begun to grasp more complex spells and are starting to understand the deeper principles of magic. They often work closely with a ntor.
Magister: At this level, magicians have developed a solid understanding of magic and can perform interdiate spells. Magisters start to specialize in a particular branch of magic. This is the rank you need to achieve to graduate from this program.
Mystic: Mystics possess significant magical knowledge and skill. They can cast advanced spells and have a deep understanding of their chosen specialty. Mystics often serve as advisors and researchers.
Enlightened: Those who achieve the rank of Enlightened have transcended the ordinary bounds of magical understanding. They can manipulate magic in ways that seem almost effortless and are often involved in the creation of new spells and magical theories.
Ethereal: Ethereals are on the cusp of transcending mortal limits. Their connection to magic is so deep that they are almost living embodints of magical power. Ethereals are revered and sotis feared for their near-divine capabilities.
Archmage: The ultimate rank, an Archmage is the epito of magical mastery. Archmages are exceedingly rare and possess unparalleled power and wisdom. They can wield and control magic in ways that others can only dream of. The current Chancellor is nearing this rank."
Draven stopped pacing and faced the students, his eyes narrowing. "To graduate and attain the rank of Magister, you must accumulate a total of 120 credits. These will be earned through a combination of coursework, practical exams, and contributions to research. Each month, you will report your progress to .
If you encounter any difficulties, you are to inform
imdiately, but ensure that you et my expectations."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "I do not tolerate diocrity. You will strive for excellence or you will find another path. Am I understood?"
The students nodded in unison, their faces a mixture of determination and trepidation.
"Good," Draven said, his tone final. "Dismissed."
As the students filed out of the room, Amberine's face shone. She couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose, tempered by the cold, unyielding presence of their professor. Looking at her sworn enemy acting cocky and explaining those things to her made her want to scoff, but she admits that his presence is still too powerful for her now.
Maybe, just maybe, there is sothing, or maybe lots of things that she could learn from him.
"But of course, I won't forget my duty to carry on your vengeance, Father," She muttered hastily under her breath.
Draven watched them go, a faint, inscrutable smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He had set the stage; now it was up to them to rise to the challenge.
When the students had left the class, Draven chuckled, before uttering with a self-mocking tone. "How arrogant. I doubt I could even reach the magister rank easily in my current condition,"
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