The faculty review chamber occupied the highest floor of Astralux Academy's administrative tower, its arched windows offering a commanding view of the seven sanctums below. Evening shadows stretched across the ornate conference room, where polished mahogany panels reflected the flickering light of enchanted sconces.
The air thrummed with barely contained tension as nearly two dozen professors examined the assessment results spread before them like evidence of some academic catastrophe.
Professor Magnus Thornwick, a bear of a man whose scarred hands spoke of decades spent training warrior-scholars, slammed his fist against the table with enough force to rattle the crystal water goblets. "These physical assessment results must be in error," he declared, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to having his pronouncements accepted without question. "No first-year applicant destroys an S-rank training dummy. Certainly not some... Dra'kesh."
