Chapter 71: Chapter Seventy One
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"I’m telling you, you have to punish him—even if it’s just reducing his salary."
The voice echoed through the Grand Assembly Hall, a circular chamber that seed to breathe with its own austere authority. Vaulted ceilings stretched three stories high, supported by columns of pale grey stone veined with silver. Afternoon light filtered through arched windows set at intervals along the upper walls, casting long geotric shadows across the polished obsidian floor.
At the room’s center sat a massive round table carved from a single piece of dark mahogany, its surface so ticulously maintained it reflected the faces of those seated around it like a black mirror. Thirty high-backed chairs ringed the table—each one occupied except for two: one conspicuously empty, and one where the designated occupant stood rather than sat.
The stoic professor from the entrance exam—Professor Aldric Thorne—lood behind his chair, hands splayed flat against its back. His long black hair was pulled even tighter against his scalp than before, as though his anger had physically manifested as increased tension. His stone-carved expression had finally cracked, revealing barely suppressed outrage.
Around the table, the other professors displayed varying degrees of interest in his complaint.
Beckett sat three seats to Aldric’s left, that insufferable smile still plastered across his face. His blonde hair caught the light as he tilted his head, watching the confrontation with the delighted air of soone enjoying particularly good theater. He’d steepled his fingers beneath his chin, blue eyes gleaming with barely concealed amusent.
Directly opposite the empty chair sat Elio Eziah, his massive fra making his seat seem almost comically small. He’d removed his overcoat, revealing heavily tattooed arms crossed over his chest. A fresh cigar smoldered between his fingers, smoke curling lazily upward. His pitch-black hair fell over his eyes as usual, but the set of his shoulders radiated complete disregard for Aldric’s speech.
To Elio’s right sat a young-looking woman in her late twenties, iron-grey hair wound into a tight bun that pulled at her temples. Professor Camille Ardent, according to the naplate before her. She taught Advanced Magical Theory.
Unlike the rest of the table, Camille seed far less invested in Aldric’s outburst than in the man seated beside her. Her posture leaned just a fraction in Elio’s direction, elbow resting lightly on the table, chin propped against her knuckles. Sharp amber eyes flicked toward him every few seconds, bright with embarrassing fascination.
Next to her slouched a younger professor who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five—Professor Kael Vesper, the Summoning Field instructor. He had ssy auburn hair and wore robes so rumpled they looked slept-in.
Scattered around the remaining seats were professors of varying ages and dispositions: a dwarf-like man with a magnificent beard who taught Blacksmithing, a willowy elf woman whose fingers absently traced enchantnt patterns in the air, a stocky woman in leather armor who handled Combat Weapons Training, and various others representing the academy’s diverse fields.
At the head of the table—or rather, at what should have been the head if the table weren’t perfectly round—sat Nox. He occupied a chair slightly larger and more ornate than the others, positioned in front of the room’s only door. Unlike the others, he didn’t sit so much as occupy the space with serene dominance. His grey beard was freshly trimd, his black hair impeccable. One hand rested on the table, the other stroked his beard in that now-familiar gesture. His eyes twinkled with barely suppressed mirth as he watched Aldric’s performance.
To Nox’s imdiate right sat the Vice Headmaster, the sa man who’d delivered that tedious speech at the entrance exam. He was a portly gentleman with a balding head and thick mustache, dressed in formal robes adorned with the academy’s crest. He looked like he wanted to intervene but was waiting for Nox’s signal.
The walls were lined with portraits of previous headmasters, their painted eyes seeming to observe the proceedings with varying degrees of judgnt. Between the portraits hung crossed weapons, magical artifacts under glass, and banners representing each of the academy’s fields. The room slled of old parchnt, wood polish, and—thanks to Elio—cigar smoke.
A large fireplace dominated the wall behind Nox, though it remained unlit given the afternoon warmth. Above it hung the academy’s seal: a tower rising from an open book, surrounded by various implents of magic and combat.
Aldric’s finger jabbed toward Elio, his voice rising. "This—for lack of better words—this fool had the audacity to change the test to nothing more than—"
He gestured sharply at Elio.
"—re will?"
"It’s the sa will that allows you to speak the way you do."
Elio took a slow drag of his cigar as he spoke, exhaling smoke in a lazy stream before continuing.
"Have you ever found yourself in combat? Real combat—not the aristocratic bullcrap you call fighting."
"I will have you know I have actually participated in combat." Aldric’s knuckles whitened against the chair back. "I am not a sheltered brat."
"You’re a brat to ." Elio waved his hand in a dismissive arc. "A snot-nosed, biased brat."
He took another drag, eyes half-lidded.
"And for all your talent bias, you’re not even the most talented mage here."
Elio snickered.
Beckett’s laugh rang out from across the table. When attention turned to him, he covered his mouth theatrically, smile still firmly in place.
"My apologies." His eyes glittered. "It was a funny situation."
"Tch."
Elio’s face twisted in disgust at the sound of Beckett’s voice.
"Hohoho."
Nox laughed, stroking his beard, his gaze fixed on the door to the hall.
The door which had just opened.
By none other than Zeke.
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"Fuck, I’m late."
{ Oh, you don’t say. }
Zero’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Fuck off."
Zeke breathed in. Out. In. Out. Then pushed open the door.
The circular chamber opened before him—towering stone columns, high vaulted ceilings, and the massive round mahogany table at its center where nearly thirty professors were already seated. Afternoon light poured through the tall arched windows, cutting long shadows across the polished obsidian floor.
Every seat was filled.
Except his.
And one other, where a professor stood rather than sat.
’Isn’t that one of the exam proctors?’
{ That’s not what you should be worried about. }
’You’re right.’
Zeke raised his hand in a strained wave, smile tight at the corners.
"This academy’s huge."
Silence.
The professors stopped paying attention to Aldric and focused on the newcor.
"Hohoho. Everyone, this is Zeke Vaughan."
Nox’s voice broke the stillness.
"He’s the talent I ntioned. Find your seat, boy."
’h boy.’
Zeke mocked Nox internally as he walked to his seat.
’Oh. I’m seated opposite the cool guy.’
’Should I wave?’
’Probably not.’
"Zeke."
Nox’s voice cut through his thoughts.
"Sir?" Zeke sat straighter.
"Please focus. You’ve missed about five minutes of this eting—"
Nox’s smile turned amused.
"—since you sat down."
A few professors shifted in their seats.
"As I ntioned before, Zeke Vaughan is the new talent I personally recruited."
"A talent that needs your direct recruitnt?" a professor asked.
"Indeed. His aptitude for magecraft is worthy of being poached by . The only one close to him in talent would be our very own Miss Camille."
Zeke felt different eyes lock onto him.
Elio was one of them.
Another noticeable gaze ca from the woman sitting close to Elio.
Zeke pieced it together quickly—this had to be the miss Camille.
He raised his hand in a casual salute.
She ignored him, turning to Elio instead.
"That would be quite surprising, Headmaster." Beckett’s smile never wavered. "As we all know, Miss Camille has an SSS-ranked mage-type trait. And unlike Aldric, she has eyes only for magic... and Elio."
"You fake-smiling bastard—what do you an by that?" Camille’s voice rose, cheeks flushing. "I have eyes only for Elio. Magic is just the only way to make Elio have eyes for . Hmph."
She crossed her arms with a sharp huff.
’Oh. She’s a simp.’
Zeke had already noticed her behavior toward Elio.
"Ahem."
Nox cleared his throat to regain attention.
"This is not a debate as to which is the more talented mage." His smile sharpened. "Which would be Zeke."
"If we were to rank them, they are both SSS-ranked talents. But Zeke’s talent is far more practical, and his other talents better position him as the greater mage."
He paused, gaze sweeping the table.
"I don’t need to give a dissertation on how talents work, do I?"
The professors shook their heads.
They were well-accustod to Nox’s quirks. If given the chance, he wouldn’t let them leave the hall until he was satisfied with his torture—lecture.
"And Zeke was not only recruited for his talent in magecraft. He is a genius of various fields—so much so that he will be taking the newly created field as its head professor and the professor of the S-Rank class."
"A genius teaching geniuses." The Vice Headmaster nodded approvingly.
"Indeed."
"Sir."
Aldric’s voice cut through.
Next to Elio, Camille pressed her fingers to her forehead, muttering, "Not again."
"Yes, Aldric?"
"This child arrived late for his very first staff eting. He zoned out. And he’s still zoning out at this mont."
Aldric pointed at Zeke, who was staring at the ceiling.
"Zeke."
Nox’s voice sharpened.
"I am present in the eting." Zeke’s tone was flat. "I have nothing to add."
"Then you give your colleagues the respect of at least listening."
Aldric’s voice rose.
"Are you the Karen of this academy?"
Zeke turned his head toward Aldric, still tilted back toward the ceiling.
"What is a ’Karen’?" Aldric’s brow furrowed. "That’s not the issue—what’s with your character, you brat?"
"Brat?"
Zeke’s head dropped down. His eyes locked onto Aldric.
"Okay. That’s enough."
Nox stood.
"Zeke, I told you to be on your best behavior."
He turned to Aldric.
"Aldric, I’ve heard your complaints. Their pay will be docked—well, only Zeke’s—as the academy finds Elio’s test fitting for the combat field."
He gestured toward the door.
"That will be all."
"Veteran professors should help the new professors adjust to their new life." The Vice Headmaster rose as well. "Dismissed."
He waved them off.
---
Zeke remained seated, eyes still locked on Aldric with the intensity of a student who’d waited until after school to fight soone.
The room stilled as the professors noticed. Most remained in their positions to see what would beco of the interaction.
Whoosh.
Zeke disappeared from his chair.
From the hall entirely.
The professors looked at each other, bewildered.
Elio smirked.
Beckett’s smile never wavered.
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POW!
As Zeke reappeared, before he could get his bearings, he received a slap to the back of his head from Nox.
"You brat—you want to fight on your first day?"
"Aiya."
Zeke gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head where Nox had struck him.
"You fool. Do you want to cause trouble for ?"
"You’re the honored one." Zeke grinned, dropping into the chair opposite Nox. "Who would do that to you?"
"Aldric is SSS-ranked. You would lose." Nox’s voice sharpened. "Do you think this is Earth? And even if you win by attrition, he’s an aristocrat. Your sudden wealth wouldn’t help you."
"I understand."
Zeke stuck his finger in his ear, pulled it out, and blew on it.
"But you drew the aggro."
"Bah. Don’t say nonsense."
"The fact you can understand my lingo ans it’s not nonsense."
Nox’s brow lifted.
"What’s a ’Karen’?"
"Find out. You’re the honored self-glazer."
"I should have left you to get your ass beaten."
Nox snorted, then waved his hand.
Zeke disappeared from his office.
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