Chapter 347: Back to the Academy

"Solomon is back on campus!"

Without wasting another second, the Grandmaster summoned his personal, enchanted flying carpet. He leaped onto the woven fabric and shot off, rushing directly toward the Astral Terminus at top speed.

He flew recklessly through the academy airspace, blasting past groups of startled mage students who were currently practicing their levitation spells and artifact piloting.

The Grandmaster completely ignored the academy’s strict aerial speed limits, banking sharply and landing the carpet roughly in the main hallway leading directly into the Astral Terminus.

He hopped off the hovering rug and rushed the rest of the way on foot. He sprinted past groups of bewildered students, shocked professors, and confused terminal staff.

They all stopped and stared, wondering what on earth could possibly make the usually composed, dignified Grandmaster sprint through the halls like a panicked freshman late for an exam.

Once he burst through the grand archways of the terminus, he immediately spotted Professor Balzac standing at the primary arrival desk, lazily filling out the mandatory return forms and finalizing the inter-dimensional transit formalities.

Balzac turned his head slightly and saw the Grandmaster rushing toward them, completely out of breath.

’Just how highly does he think of Solomon?’ Balzac wondered to himself, genuinely surprised by the elderly administrator’s frantic urgency.

Balzac adjusted his silk sleeping mask and preemptively raised a hand. "You can skip the administrative pleasantries, old man. I am heading straight back to my office right now. I shall not be disturbed for exactly two weeks, just as you promised me when you forced me to take this escort mission."

The Grandmaster completely ignored the professor.

"..."

He stopped in front of Solomon, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath. His mind raced. He honestly did not know how to greet the boy properly after the revelation, or how to subtly broach the subject. So, he abandoned all tact and went straight to the point.

"Solomon," the Grandmaster asked bluntly, staring intensely into the boy’s silver eyes. "Did you know that you are a Dragon Spawn?"

Balzac instantly froze in his tracks. He stopped walking toward the exit, his eyes darting to the side, almost looking backward, though he refused to physically turn his head.

He was incredibly curious to hear Solomon’s answer, but he also furiously cursed the Grandmaster in his mind. ’Why the hell is he asking something that insanely classified so bluntly, right in the middle of a public terminal, the second the kid arrives?! Where are his basic administrative manners and political etiquette?! This old man has gone senile! I should write a complaint and get him treated’

Solomon blinked, unfazed by the sudden, bizarre question. "Yes, I am aware of that."

Balzac slowly turned around, pretending to be casually interested, though a bead of nervous sweat visibly formed on his forehead.

"My parents told me a long time ago that a dragon supposedly blessed me when I was a baby, or something like that," Solomon elaborated smoothly, shifting the heavy bags of snacks on his shoulder. "But that is literally all I know about it. I do not know any other details. And it is not like that supposed ’blessing’ ever actually helped me with anything. Do you know what it does?"

The Grandmaster let out a quiet breath. He had gotten his answer, but he also seemed visibly disappointed. Deep down, he had eagerly expected the first, most dramatic possibility, which was that the boy was actually a trueborn, polymorphed dragon.

’But then again, if someone was a dragon, they would surely be aware of it. One could possibly not be unaware of what kind of existence they are.’

"I see," the Grandmaster nodded, quickly recovering his professional composure. "You must be tired from your long journey. You should head back to your dormitory, get freshened up, and rest. Once you are settled, please come directly to my office. We need to officially issue your second-year uniform, your upgraded equipment, although I don’t think you need any since you have the holy relic. And of course, your new silver broadcasting owl."

Solomon wanted to say he wasn’t feeling tired at all, but the magical gates, portals, and inter-dimensional spatial travel notoriously drained the physical energy from standard travelers. If Solomon casually claimed he was perfectly fine after a cross-realm jump, he would inevitably have to answer significantly more suspicious questions later.

So, he simply nodded and agreed.

Solomon put down the heavy snack bags. He pulled out a few carefully wrapped pastry boxes and handed them to Balzac. "We probably will not be seeing each other for a while now."

Balzac grabbed the boxes eagerly, offered a lazy wave, and walked away down the corridor toward his private office without another word.

The Grandmaster raised an eyebrow, clearly curious about the exchange. "What is in those boxes?"

Solomon pulled out another box, handed it to him and immediately turned to walk away. "Just some homemade snacks."

Solomon navigated the sprawling hallways of the academy. He passed through the various academic wings, crossed the central courtyards, and eventually reached the first-year residential sector. He navigated the familiar corridors until he reached his specific dorm room in House Nova.

He checked the brass nameplate mounted on the door. His name was still etched there alongside Arthur’s.

Solomon let out a quiet sigh of relief. "It is a good thing my dorm room was not changed when I was suddenly promoted to the second year. Or maybe the administration just forgot to update the housing logistics."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever the reason, I will just ask the Grandmaster to let me stay in this room. I do not feel like moving all my stuff right now."

Solomon knocked on the door, wondering if the morning theory classes had already begun and if Arthur was currently sitting in a lecture hall.

A second later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Solomon walked inside, fully expecting to see Arthur studying at his desk. Instead, he found the towering, muscular frame of Maximus Thunderstrike standing in the middle of the room, stretching his arms.