Chapter 64 - 064: Grandmaster?

Chapter 64: Chapter 064: Grandmaster?

"Candidate Mikael of the House of Limnor has withdrawn from the Academy’s entrance interview."

A ripple of murmurs and whispers passed through the hall, subtle but present.

Withdrawn?

After the amazing feat he had pulled off against the godbeast, not even twenty hours ago?

Some found themselves smiling subconsciously. Others wondered briefly about what the departure meant. A few did not even care to dwell on the subject.

"His decision," the Headmaster continued, "has no bearing whatsoever on the remaining trial. He is gone and you are still here; make of it whatever you wish."

With that sentence, the idea of a person named Mikael ceased to be on the minds of the prospects.

The Headmaster turned slightly, as though shifting topics required some kind of physical action.

"The third and final trial," he said, "will now proceed."

Several candidates straightened. Others leaned forward in anticipation, interest sharpened to the limit.

This was it.

The final threshold.

Even the girl closed her book, the fact that her interest was piqued undeniable.

This was when the Academy decided who was worth investing in and who would be sent back to their families with nothing but their reputation torn to shreds.

The old man raised one finger, all smiles.

"And what might you all be waiting for? The trial has already begun."

At that very sentence, nearly the entire hall flew to their feet, taking defensive stances.

The confusion on their faces was unmistakable. Others glanced around, expecting hidden instructors, trapdoor spells, or even summoned golems.

A battlefield?

Something that screamed ’Attack’.

But nothing happened.

The Headmaster was laughing warmly at the podium.

"The hot-blooded nature of youth," he joked. "I wish I still had that kind of vigor," he whispered to a nearby instructor. When he finally calmed himself down, he continued.

"Listen, children. There will be no sparring. No combat trials. No ranking matches."

That now drew real reactions. Lips tightened and brows knitted as the young minds kicked into overdrive.

All he mentioned were the generic tests of the Academy for centuries. Individual combat capabilities and potential were a necessity for getting admitted into Silver Arcane. Families trained their children in combat from a young age just for it.

So if the third trial was not about combat, what exactly was the third trial?

The Headmaster urged silence.

"From this moment until sunset three days from now," he said, "any candidate who advances to Grandmaster Rank will be deemed to have passed the interview, regardless of their performance in the other two tests."

The words settled slowly, taking their time to sink in.

"Of course, the Academy will fully sponsor the materials you need for your advancement, so do not worry. But..."

A pause followed.

"If you rush the Ascension and fail, there is a possibility your core will be crippled for life."

The words that had sunk in finally detonated.

Nobody shouted outwardly, or even protested. But if any of the instructors or even the Headmaster was a psychic who could see deep inside them, they could see their common sense being rocked by huge waves of confusion and disbelief.

Grandmaster?

Here? In a few days?

This wasn’t arrogance, no? It went far beyond just that.

This was absurdity.

* * * * *

*Throne Room — Vampiric Icelands

The icy, blood-red throne room of the True North hummed in resonance with the bloodlines passing through the walls.

The Monarch sat upon the throne of blood-red bones, posture relaxed. The air was cold and biting, but it did not seem to concern him.

Then, the temperature dropped sharply, below even the biting air.

The Vampire Monarch’s fingers stopped mid-tap.

"Clear the room," he ordered, standing and walking some feet away from the throne.

At that moment, and as soon as the room was void of all but him, the space before the throne groaned and ruptured, just enough for a person to walk through. A young girl with silver hair that reflected the light emerged. Her eyes were a dull shade of red, ones that looked like they had witnessed eons go by.

The Monarch inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"It would seem you had a good rest. To cast such a great spatial spell while still weakened, I really await your getting back to your prime strength, Progenitor."

The voice that responded to him was completely different from what he expected, like someone else was behind her and replying in her stead.

"You look well, Monarch," she spoke slowly. A very long pause followed the unimpressed reply.

"I am flattered, Progenitor. Please," he gestured to the throne, "your throne."

"Yes."

She walked to the throne.

When she sat, she reclined and shut her eyes, as if falling asleep.

The body was too young to contain something so old.

"You returned at a volatile moment, Progenitor," the Monarch said after a while. "The world is... restless. It is why I haven’t formally congratulated you on your complete return."

"So I sensed," her voice was still unimpressed. "Too many things are being pushed at once."

The young girl opened her dull, red eyes. "And what is the cause of this... desperation, Monarch?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I have no idea what you imply, Progenitor. You speak as though you know things."

The Progenitor closed her eyes again.

"I know patterns," she corrected.

Another long pause followed and hung heavily in the room.

"Something has stepped out of sequence, Monarch. Have you felt it?"

That earned a flicker of interest.

"An event, Progenitor?"

"A being, I believe. It is tied to reawakening so soon."

"Have you any idea as to what it is then, Progenitor?" the Monarch probed.

"No. Do you?"

The Monarch inclined his head again.

"Regrettably, no."

The girl stood and headed down the stairs and towards the doors of the throne room.

"Two things, son of Shadowborn."

The doors slid open, creaking noiselessly.

"First, be sure to account for powerful variables, expected or otherwise, in whatever scheme it is you are cooking up. One slip-up, and I’ll be sure to have your head."

She continued to walk away, her red dress sweeping the ground behind her.

"And the second?"

"Your maidservant is trying to chat me to death."

"Hahaha, I’ll do something about it."