The heavy doors of the academy's council chamber closed with a resounding thud, shutting out the bustling noise of the great hall. The chamber was dimly lit, lined with tall shelves of ancient tomes and maps, the scent of ink and old parchment filling the air.
At the center stood a polished obsidian table. Professor Calvus gestured for them to sit, his sharp eyes never leaving their faces.
"Begin," he ordered, his voice low but commanding.
Reinhardt leaned forward, recounting everything—the endless halls of the dungeon, the illusions that tested their resolve, the crushing presence of the Trial Guardian, and finally, the blinding surge of power that marked their victory. His voice carried no embellishment, just the steady recounting of truth.
Elira added details Reinhardt missed: the shift of the guardian's stance, the patterns of its attacks, the moment Reinhardt had nearly fallen. Callen chimed in with his usual flair, exaggerating his own near-death moments until Alden silenced him with a glare.
Throughout it all, Professor Calvus remained unreadable. He scribbled notes on parchment, his quill scratching with mechanical precision. When the last word was spoken, silence thickened in the room.
Finally, Calvus set his quill down. His gaze swept across them, sharp as a blade.
"You did well," he said at last. "Not simply for surviving, but for showing the academy something rarely seen in first-year initiates."
Reinhardt's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Calvus leaned back, folding his hands.
"The dungeon does not simply test strength—it measures potential. And in you four… it has found something worthy of recognition."
Elira straightened, eyes wide. Callen smirked, trying to hide the flicker of pride in his expression. Alden bowed his head, his usual calm unshaken.
Then Calvus's tone shifted, colder.
"But recognition invites attention. And attention brings danger. Others will envy you. Challenge you. Even seek to undermine what you've gained."
The words lingered like a stormcloud.
Reinhardt's hand curled into a fist beneath the table. He could already feel the weight of what Calvus said—the whispers in the academy halls, the jealous eyes, the tests yet to come.
"Professor," Reinhardt said quietly, "then what is our next step?"
Calvus's lips curved into something between a smile and a warning.
"You return to your studies. Attend your classes. Sharpen yourselves further. The academy will call upon you soon enough."
He rose, his cloak brushing the floor as he walked to the tall window overlooking the academy grounds.
"For now, relish your survival. For the challenges ahead will not allow such luxury."
The chamber fell silent once more. The group exchanged glances—words unspoken, yet understood.