Chapter 348: The Dorm Room

Maximus blinked in surprise, offering a confused but curious greeting. "Solomon? When did you get back?"

"I just arrived," Solomon replied, furrowing his brow. "What are you doing in my room so early?"

"I actually slept here last night," Maximus answered casually.

Solomon’s frown deepened significantly. "Why would you do that?"

"Because Arthur was terrified to sleep alone in this room," Maximus explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

Solomon crossed his arms. "That has literally never happened before. Arthur is usually perfectly fine on his own."

"Well, he seemed terrified of something last night," Maximus elaborated, his expression turning serious. "He had a really bad nightmare, too. He was thrashing around, screaming and muttering something in his sleep."

"What kind of muttering?" Solomon asked, his protective instincts instantly flaring. "What was he saying?"

Maximus shrugged his broad shoulders. "I did not hear the words clearly. He was just mumbling." The Vanguard student’s eyes drifted downward, noticing the heavy bags in Solomon’s hands. "What is in the bags?"

Solomon tossed one of the pastry boxes directly at Maximus. "Where is Arthur right now?"

Instead of answering the question immediately, Maximus popped the box open, grabbed a pastry, and took a massive bite. He chewed happily before responding. "He went out to the main lobby a little while ago. He said someone from his family requested a secure video call with him."

Solomon let out an annoyed sigh. He looked past Maximus and stared at his own bed. It had clearly been used by him. The blankets were a tangled mess, and the mattress was completely sunken in.

He rubbed his face in sheer frustration. Deciding he absolutely did not want to deal with cleaning up the mess right now, he turned around. "I will just leave and come back later."

He walked out of the dorm and made his way straight to the Grandmaster’s office in the administration wing.

He knocked on the oak doors, which were already slightly ajar, and stepped inside. The Grandmaster was sitting at his mahogany desk, busily signing a stack of official paperwork.

The Grandmaster looked up, pointed a pen toward a side table, and said, "Your new uniform is resting right there. You should get changed immediately."

Solomon picked up the neatly folded, dark second-year uniform. He glanced around the open office. "Where am I supposed to change? Don’t you have a bathroom?"

The Grandmaster simply waved his hand. A massive, ornate landscape painting hanging on the wall suddenly dropped down from its hook, hovering inches above the floor.

"You can go in there and change," the Grandmaster instructed casually without even looking at Solomon.

Solomon was incredibly curious about how the spatial paintings actually worked, having seen the Grandmaster step out of one previously and Balzac enjoying his vacation in one. Without a second thought, he stepped directly into the canvas.

The transition felt exactly like stepping through a dimensional dungeon portal, yet the atmosphere inside was entirely different. The textures of the grass and trees felt physically real, but the environment looked strangely stylized, just like walking through a living, breathing oil painting.

He turned around, fully expecting to see the exit portal leading back to the Grandmaster’s office. It was completely gone.

"How am I supposed to get out of here?!" Solomon shouted into the painted sky.

"I temporarily blocked the exit so you can change your clothes without worrying about privacy," the Grandmaster’s voice echoed from nowhere. "Just let me know once you are done, and I will draw an exit for you."

’That is an incredibly dangerous, completely broken innate talent,’ Solomon thought to himself, shivering slightly at the absolute control the elderly man possessed over the painted dimension.

Solomon quickly stripped off his casual clothes and pulled on the new uniform. "I am done!" he shouted.

Right before his eyes, a doorway shaped exactly like the Grandmaster’s office materialized within the painted scenery. Solomon walked out of the canvas and stepped back onto the plush rug of the real office.

The Grandmaster looked at Solomon, evaluating the fit of the dark, sleek second-year uniform. "How does it feel?"

"It feels significantly better than the standard first-year uniform," Solomon noted, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. "It feels much more comfortable to move around in. The fabric is durable, and the tightness around the joints is absolutely perfect."

"Since second-year students are required to undertake moderately hard missions, extended survival training, and rigorous combat evaluations, their uniform is designed to function more like a tactical battle suit," the Grandmaster explained, stamping another document. "While simultaneously maintaining the prestigious aesthetic vibe of the academy."

The Grandmaster then made a swift, fluid gesture with his hand. Another framed painting drifted gracefully down from the ceiling, landing onto the center of the mahogany desk as lightly as a feather.

The painting depicted a hyper-realistic image of Eden’s Penance.

The Grandmaster snapped his fingers. The canvas instantly dissolved into magical light, and the actual sword dropped onto the desk with a loud thud.

Solomon stared at the holy relic for a few seconds. A wide smile stretched across his face. He reached out and grabbed the hilt.

Instantly, a violent surge of blue lightning erupted from the metal, shocking his hand.

Solomon gripped the hilt tighter, overpowering the rejection with sheer physical force, and swung the heavy sword a few times to test its balance. He brought the blade close to his face, narrowing his silver eyes at the steel.

"What happened to you?" Solomon whispered to the weapon. "Why are you giving me such shocks again? Is it because I left you alone in this office for a week, or because I haven’t wielded you in a fight since I left for the Azure Moon Kingdom?"

He secured the leather strap across his chest and settled the greatsword comfortably onto his back. He turned his attention back to the desk.

The Grandmaster set his pen aside and folded his hands. "Are you ready to receive your silver owl?"

"Yes!"