Academy (2)

"We have arrived," Professor Mara announced, her voice steady as we came to a halt before an enormous double door. The intricate carvings on its dark wood surface seemed almost alive, twisting into symbols of power and wisdom. I had sensed it earlier. A presence pressing against my very being. But now, standing so close, it was suffocating. The air felt heavier, charged with something ancient and formidable.

Professor Mara raised her fist and knocked three times. The sound echoed ominously before she pushed the doors open, revealing a grand study bathed in the golden glow of candlelight. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with leather-bound tomes and delicate scrolls. In the center of the room, an elderly man in his seventies sat hunched over a massive oak desk, meticulously sorting through piles of parchment. The scent of old paper and ink filled the air. He paused, setting his quill aside, and lifted his gaze to us. Removing his glasses, he studied us for a moment before his lips curled into a warm, knowing smile.

"Hohoho! Sulien!" His voice rang out, filled with unmistakable delight as he lifted both hands in the air.

A wave of recognition crashed over me. This was no ordinary scholar. This was the Headmaster of the Academy, a man once feared and revered on the battlefield. They called him the Warlock of a Thousand Spells, a legend in his own right. Sulien knew him well. How could he not? Though it is the past Sulien, they had fought side by side, their lives intertwined by war. His frail form was deceptive, for he had rained down destruction upon enemies with a mere flick of his fingers. With a single incantation, he had obliterated hordes of monsters, turning the tide of battle and securing victory for their forces.

"Old man," Sulien greeted him, his tone as casual as it had been in the heat of war.

A sharp, disapproving glance from Professor Mara was immediate, while Flinn's face showed clear amusement.

"Right, right! That's what you called me back then! Hohoho!" The Headmaster let out a hearty laugh, his shoulders shaking as he stroked his long, flowing white beard.

"I see you've brought a talented one with you." The old man's gaze shifted past me, settling directly on Flinn. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as if assessing something beyond mere appearance.

I nodded. "He's Flinn Pimenta. The mercenary who single-handedly wiped out nearly half the monsters from the south. Though he looks like a mess now, his skills speak for themselves." As I spoke, I made my way to the nearest sofa, sinking into its plush cushions. My gaze flicked toward Flinn, observing his disheveled form, his usual sharp demeanor dulled by exhaustion.

"Anyway, why did you call for me?" I inquired, my attention drawn to the coffee table in front of me. Scattered papers, empty teacups, and ink bottles were strewn across its surface in complete disarray. 

I exhaled sharply, my fingers twitching as an anxious itch spread through my hands. It was impossible to focus with such disorder staring back at me. Without waiting for permission, I began arranging the clutter, aligning papers into neat stacks, setting cups aside symmetrically, and ensuring the ink bottles faced the same direction. The process soothed me, as if restoring order to my surroundings also restored control over my thoughts.

In any case, there was no way this old man had summoned me just for greetings and pleasantries.

"No need to prove his worth," the Headmaster said, waving a dismissive hand. "I already know him well enough." His voice carried the weight of certainty, his expression unreadable. "I've already arranged a position for him as an instructor." With that, he turned toward Professor Mara and motioned for her to take Flinn with her. "Show him around the campus, introduce him to his quarters."

Without a word, Professor Mara gave a small nod before guiding Flinn out of the room. As the door shut behind them, the Headmaster turned back to me, his lips curling into an eager smile.

"I called you here because I plan to appoint you as an advisor for a particular class." He stroked his beard again, a clear sign of his excitement. His voice brimmed with anticipation. "You've heard the news, haven't you? This year, I've managed to gather some remarkable individuals." His eyes gleamed, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

I leaned back slightly, watching him closely. "And what exactly do you want me to do with them?" My voice was steady, but my mind was already piecing together the puzzle. He had to be referring to them. The so-called prodigies, the survivors of the arena, the young gladiators he had rescued not long ago. And the protagonist of the novel. 

"Hahaha! What do you mean? I'm merely asking you for a favor," the Headmaster said, his voice light, but his piercing gaze fixed on me with unwavering intensity.

I let out a slow sigh. "I see. You want me to test them," I said, easily reading the meaning behind his stare.

He's really eager about the protagonist, huh? I mused internally. Then again, who could blame him? In the novel, the protagonist's talent was so immense that even I had once questioned why he had been thrown into the arena in the first place. A gem buried in the filth, unnoticed by the world, until now.

"For you to be this eager, I guess I have no choice," I said, pushing myself up from the sofa. Truth be told, I was just as eager as he was. After all, I was about to meet the very person who had once inspired me as a child, the protagonist himself.

The Headmaster nodded, a satisfied glint in his eyes, and with that, our conversation came to an end.

****

After my conversation with the Headmaster, an attendant was already waiting for me outside his office. A young man dressed in the Academy's formal uniform, his posture straight and professional. He carried a small notebook, flipping through its pages as I stepped into the hall.

"Sir Sulien," he said with a polite nod, "I've been assigned to escort you to your quarters. Please follow me."

I simply nodded, falling into step beside him as we made our way through the grand corridors of the Academy. The marble floors gleamed under the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns, their soft light casting long shadows against the high, arched ceilings. Large stained-glass windows lined the hallways, depicting legendary figures from past wars, mages, warriors, and scholars who had shaped the Academy's history.

As we walked, I glanced at the attendant. He moved with precise, measured steps, his eyes darting from one corridor to the next as if mentally confirming the path. There was an air of discipline about him, but also a hint of nervousness, given the way he occasionally adjusted his grip on the notebook.

"Do you escort new arrivals often?" I asked, breaking the silence.

He blinked, seemingly surprised that I had spoken. "Ah, yes. It's part of my duties as an administrative assistant. However, I must admit… I don't usually guide instructors."

"Is that so?" I mused, scanning the halls as we passed. The Academy was as grand as I had imagined. No, perhaps even more so. I had read about it in the novel, but seeing it firsthand made it feel all the more real.

Eventually, we arrived at a large wooden door adorned with intricate carvings of arcane symbols. The attendant stepped forward and produced a key, unlocking it with a practiced motion before pushing the door open.

"This will be your personal quarters, Sir Sulien."

I stepped inside, my gaze sweeping across the room. It was spacious, with high ceilings and tall windows that overlooked the Academy's vast training grounds. A bookshelf lined one wall, already stocked with various tomes on magic theory and battle strategies. A sturdy wooden desk sat beside it, neatly arranged with writing materials. The bed, larger than I expected, was positioned against the far wall, draped in rich navy sheets that bore the Academy's crest.

Everything was clean. Organized. Perfectly arranged.

Until I noticed the coffee table.

Books were stacked haphazardly. A few loose papers lay scattered across the surface, and an ink bottle was positioned just a little too close to the edge for my liking.

My fingers twitched.

Messy.

Before I could stop myself, I walked over and began straightening the books, aligning them by size. The loose papers were gathered into a neat pile, and I carefully moved the ink bottle to a safer position.

The attendant, who had been quietly standing by the door, shifted slightly. "Would you like me to have the cleaning staff adjust anything to your preference?"

I exhaled, shaking my head. "No need. This will do."

He nodded and took a step back. "If you require anything, feel free to summon an attendant through the service bell near your desk. The Headmaster has also requested that you familiarize yourself with the campus, as you'll be meeting your assigned class soon."

"Understood."

He gave a polite bow before turning to leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone now, I surveyed the room once more, feeling the weight of my new role settle over me. I had stepped into a place of power, influence, and responsibility. Far beyond what I had once imagined.

And soon, I would meet the ones who would shape the future of this world.

****