Dean Tower:
The atmosphere within Dean Tower was heavy with the weight of impending decisions. The old man dean, a figure of great wisdom and calm authority, felt the tumultuous beats of his heart begin to settle.
Resolute, he knew he must first consult the crippled old man, the guardian of ancient secrets and one of the few who could fully grasp the gravity of the situation.
Without a mont's hesitation, the dean vanished from his place, reappearing swiftly in the shadowed confines of the Sub-Taboo Hall's Sub-Space, a realm hidden from the eyes of most, shrouded in mystery and power.
Standing before the entrance, a door forged from the deepest black stone and etched with arcane symbols, the dean paused. Respectfully, he requested permission to enter.
From within the depths of the chamber, the crippled old man, resting upon his well-worn recliner, felt the dean's presence. With a simple thought, the barrier that separated them flickered, and the ancient one granted entry.
The dean entered, his footsteps echoing softly on the cold, polished floors. Before him lood the massive gate of the Inheritance Palace, a structure that held within it the legacies of countless powerful mages.
In front of this imposing gate lay the crippled old man, his frail body contrasted sharply with the monuntal presence of the palace. Despite his physical weakness, his aura was one of undeniable strength and authority.
The crippled old man, sensing the dean's approach, slowly opened his eyes, eyes that had witnessed ages pass. His voice, though soft, carried the weight of centuries, "What is it?"
Wasting no ti, the dean responded with urgency, "The Mage Union has sent a notification." With a wave of his hand, a blue display screen materialized, the ssage from the Mage Union glowing ominously against the dim light of the Sub-Space.
At the re ntion of the Mage Union, the crippled old man's deanor shifted. He sat upright, a rare movent that conveyed the seriousness of the situation. His gaze, sharp and discerning, locked onto the ssage displayed before him.
As he read through the contents, a silence fell over the room, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Minutes passed, each second heavy with anticipation.
Finally, the crippled old man broke the silence, his voice tinged with a mix of contemplation and resignation, "So, they have decided to send this boy to the True Elents Society." His tone was one of soone who had seen much, who understood the broader implications far beyond what the dean could comprehend.
The crippled old man, unlike the dean, had intimate knowledge of the Super Large Nations and their inner workings. He had lived through the rise and fall of many powers and was all too familiar with the True Elents Society. Many mages who had once trained under the True Elents Society had later joined the Mage Union, making this recomndation no surprise to him.
Yet, a shadow of doubt crept into his thoughts. The crippled old man wondered if the True Elents Society possessed the resources necessary for soone like Vincent Carey, a rare talent with Gravity Magic, an ability that was as mysterious as it was powerful.
The Yellow River Academy, where they now stood, had its own inheritance related to Gravity Magic, a legacy left by the Late Gravity Ancestor. The academy was ho to the ntal thods, magic spells, books, and artifacts of this ancient mage, all now passed down to Vincent Carey.
Vincent Carey was no ordinary student; he was the sole inheritor of the Late Gravity Ancestor's formidable legacy. His potential departure from the academy posed a grave risk to its future.
The crippled old man knew that if Vincent left, the continuity of the Sub-Taboo Hall's inheritance would be in jeopardy. The only hope was that Vincent might soday leave behind his own legacy, just as the Gravity Ancestor had done.
The dean stood silently by, aware of the depth of the crippled old man's contemplation. He too understood the magnitude of Vincent's role within the Sub-Taboo Hall. Vincent was expected to remain within the academy, to dedicate his life to mastering the arts of the Sub- Taboo Hall. But the sudden interest of the Mage Union had thrown all their plans into disarray.
A chance encounter with the Mage Union or the Super Large Nation was a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity, one that no mage could afford to ignore. But none had anticipated that such a chance would co knocking for Vincent Carey, a student whose future seed so firmly tied to the Sub-Taboo Hall.
The dean couldn't help but wonder if the enigmatic Taboo Hall Magic Lords had foreseen this. They had been unusually silent since the conclusion of the Wizard Heart Competition, a silence that seed to suggest they knew of the Mage Union's intentions long before the notification arrived.
Furrowing his brows, the dean felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. The decisions of the Taboo Hall were beyond his authority, a realm of power that even he, a figure of great influence, dared not ddle with.
After what felt like an eternity, the crippled old man finally spoke, his voice filled with resolve, "I must et with Vincent Carey. We need to have a heart-to-heart conversation." He knew that only by speaking directly with Vincent could he dispel the doubts gnawing at his mind.
The future of the Sub-Taboo Hall hung in the balance, and Vincent Carey's choices would determine its fate.
If Vincent could be persuaded to support the Sub-Taboo Hall, even from afar, the crippled old man would find so solace. But if Vincent were to leave the academy for good, the old man knew that a new chapter would begin—one fraught with uncertainty for both Vincent and the academy.
..
From MC's Perspective:
As I made my way toward the Sub-Taboo Hall, my thoughts were a swirling mix of anticipation and unease. The weight of my recent inheritance still hung heavily on my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that sothing significant was about to happen.
Just as I was lost in these thoughts, I suddenly felt a presence blocking my path. I ca to a halt, my instincts on high alert.
When I turned to face the person who had stopped , I was taken aback. My eyes widened slightly as I recognized him—Dean Tower himself. A man of such stature and authority rarely made personal appearances unless the matter was of the utmost importance. A hint of surprise flickered in my eyes as I spoke, "Dean, what are you doing here?"
The dean's expression was inscrutable, but there was a certain gravity in his gaze that set my nerves on edge. His response was brief, almost curt, "Co with ."
Before I could fully process his words, I felt his firm grip on my shoulder. In an instant, the world around blurred, and the familiar corridors of the academy vanished. When the world ca back into focus, I found myself standing before the Sub-Taboo Hall Sub Space, a place steeped in power and mystery.
"Let's go," the dean instructed, his tone leaving no room for hesitation as he stepped toward the entrance.
I followed closely behind him, my mind racing. The Sub-Taboo Hall Sub Space was a place where few dared to tread without cause. It was a realm where ancient secrets and legacies were guarded fiercely. The fact that the dean had brought here himself sent a clear ssage—this was no ordinary eting.
Unbeknownst to , the dean's sudden action hadn't gone unnoticed. The other Magic Lords, ever vigilant and curious, sensed the unusual nature of his visit. Dean Tower rarely ventured into the Sub-Taboo Hall Sub Space unless it was related to Vincent Carey.
Their curiosity piqued, they silently observed, aware that sothing important was unfolding. They knew that I was awaiting further instructions from the Mage Union, but they also knew the risks that surrounded Vincent Carey. Hostile forces were lurking in the shadows, eager to strike him before he could fully realize his potential.
As we entered the Sub Space, my feet touched the cold, familiar ground, and I instantly recognized where we were. The Inheritance Palace lood before us, its majestic structure a testant to the power it contained. mories flooded my mind—this was the place where I had first been chosen by the Gravity Ancestor's legacy.
My attention was quickly drawn to the figure seated near the palace gates. The crippled old man, a figure of imnse power and wisdom, was watching with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. His presence here could only an one thing—this was a matter of great importance.
Realizing the seriousness of the situation, I quickly straightened up and offered him a respectful greeting, "Elder."
The old man's gaze remained fixed on , his eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge my thoughts, my resolve. Whatever this was about, it was clear that the future of the Sub-Taboo Hall—and perhaps my own destiny—was about to be decided in this very mont.
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