"Professor Dextor." Adrian offered a slight nod in greeting.
The man had once led Blackthorn’s team during the Arcane Anvil Cup—proud, competitive, and sharp-tongued. Adrian never ford a strong opinion about him. He didn’t care enough to.
"I’ve been hearing a lot about your academy," Dextor began, his tone casual but edged. "But not much about you. Taking a break from research?"
Was that a subtle jab, or just curiosity? Adrian couldn’t tell, and honestly, he didn’t care to.
He responded evenly, "These days, I’m more focused on learning. Publishing papers and chasing citations never really interested ."
Fa? No, thank you. Adrian enjoyed the stillness of a quiet life. Wealth was never an issue. And as Ariana had said more than once, the world wasn’t ready for the knowledge spinning inside his head.
Not even she felt worthy to peek into it.
While Adrian often thought she was exaggerating, Ariana remained firm in her belief.
Hearing his words, the smile on Dextor’s face faltered a bit.
"I still think it’s wise to share your insights with the world," Dextor added, raising both hands slightly as if to show he ant no offense. "Just a suggestion."
It was a careful statent—no doubt a lesson from their last interaction during the AAC.
Adrian gave a polite nod. "I appreciate the suggestion."
While the professors exchanged words, the two students accompanying Dextor had turned their attention to Elana.
"I’m not surprised to see you as the captain this year," said the girl with short black hair and piercing olive-green eyes. Her smirk made it obvious where this conversation was headed.
Elana sighed, already regretting not moving away when they approached. But well, she didn’t want to leave her Professor alone between these idiots.
She remained silent, which only fueled the annoyance of the duo.
"What’s with that attitude?" the boy beside her snapped. "You think you’ve already won this contest or sothing?"
Elana rolled her eyes. "I was hoping to et soone who could match intellectually. But once again... just children."
"You...!" the girl stepped forward, almost lunging—only to be held back by her companion.
The sudden tension drew the attention of both professors, but a shared glance between them was enough to agree: they wouldn’t interfere. Not yet.
The fuming girl glared daggers at Elana. Her voice dropped, cold and sharp.
"I hope I get to face you in a solo match. That pride of yours needs a beating."
Elana didn’t bother responding.
There was no point.
As she thought—they were just children. Easily provoked. Quick to anger. Driven by emotion more than thought.
She had nothing to prove to them.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the hall.
"Attention, everyone. The Chairman would like to speak a few words."
Instantly, conversations died down. All eyes turned toward the grand stage at the front.
Adrian’s gaze narrowed as a figure stepped out from the shadows.
Grey-white hair. Eyes aged, yet alert. A straight, unyielding back. And a presence that made the very air seem still.
Borodicus Clark.
The chief organizer of the tournant—and the oldest living mber of the Tower. A man whose influence extended far beyond borders, whispering into the halls of every major nation.
A legend in his own right.
One of only three known runesmiths alive who could tune a fifth-grade armant. And the one most widely regarded as the best among them.
To all four nations and their Towers, Borodicus was a living treasure.
At this mont, in this hall full of prideful scholars and rising talents—no one held more weight than him.
Stepping up to the front, his voice carried with practiced ease.
"Good evening, children, and honorable professors," he began, his tone calm but firm. "I hope the arrangents thus far have t your expectations—and that nothing has left you disappointed."
Naturally, no one raised their hand to complain.
The hall remained quiet, every pair of eyes fixed on the man who now stood under the stage lights. Even Adrian, who usually takes his ti to think about his studies during speeches, was focusing on the man.
Until now, he had only ever t runesmiths who were either on par with him—or beneath him. Borodicus Clark was the first man he knew who clearly stood above.
Oddly enough, that didn’t bother Adrian. It didn’t bruise his ego. In fact, it stirred sothing else entirely—curiosity.
If he got the chance, he’d love to exchange a few words. There was a special kind of satisfaction that ca from talking to soone who understood the sa language of symbols, formulas, and resonance. A conversation between craftsn.
But, of course, soone like Borodicus was far too busy to linger at an event like this. His presence here was already a miracle.
The man wasn’t tied to any one nation. He drifted freely between kingdoms, lending his hands—and mind—wherever he wished.
"I’d like to begin by sharing a piece of news," Borodicus announced, voice calm but weighty. "It may not be sothing you’ll enjoy hearing."
The mood shifted instantly. Several frowns appeared across the crowd.
News?
No one dared interrupt, waiting for him to continue.
"This year," he said, "after long discussions and a full vote from all representatives involved, we’ve co to a decision."
He paused just long enough to build tension before continuing.
"The primary goal of this event has always been to test how students perform under pressure—especially in unfamiliar, high-stakes environnts. We assess teamwork, adaptability, and the ability to function as one. That is why, traditionally, team battles have remained at the center of this tournant."
The room was still. His words held authority, unquestioned.
Then ca the shift.
"However," he said, letting the word settle, "we’ve observed a recurring issue. Many strong individuals are held back by the weaknesses of their teams. At the sa ti, so less capable contestants have managed to slip through, carried by teammates far above their level."
The crowd began to stir.
"And so," Borodicus continued, "after hours of debate and careful evaluation, we’ve decided to shift the focus this year."
His eyes swept over the crowd.
"This ti, solo battles will take priority."
Many glanced at each other. Couldn’t grasp the aning behind his words and so were confused if they understood him correctly or not.
However, Adrian was having completely different thoughts.
His heart was thumping. This was bad.
The Acolytes had made their move and they sohow had gotten the event managent involved in all this as well.
Adrian couldn’t be sure if Clark was involved or not but surely, if the schedule of the event had changed then that ans the Acolytes had corrupted the upper echelon.
Or was it because so many changes had occured in the plot that they took this decision? He couldn’t tell.
’Things have changed now...I need to take Forgelet’s help again.’
°°°°°°°
A/N:- If you are enjoying the novel so far, please drop a review. It helps.
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