Suddenly, the chandeliers above dimmed, the brilliant lights that had illuminated the hall fading until the room was bathed in a mild, contemplative darkness. The students immediately understood what this meant: the conference was about to commence. A low murmur spread through the hall, quickly replaced by tense silence, as if the dimming had hushed even the bravest hearts.
Footsteps echoed against the polished floors, resonating throughout the vast hall. A man, tall and imposing, easily over six feet in height, approached the stage. His presence was calm yet magnetic, the kind of aura that demanded attention without a word. White hair framed his face, and a matching white beard lent him an air of age and authority. It was the Ninth Vice Principal, Berion.
He stepped up to the podium and gazed across the students, whose divisions into three distinct sections, first, second, and third years, were now starkly visible. Without hesitation, he began to speak.
