The meeting at Zeverius Academy was finally held after two days of waiting. Those two days had not been idle. According to Alicia, the delay was caused by logistical preparation. That phrase sounded simple, but Baston had quickly learned that when nobles used simple phrases, the meaning
was never small.
Nearly one hundred academies had confirmed attendance. That meant approximately three hundred student representatives. Baston had imagined
chaos from crowded corridors, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, and nobles
annoyed at the lack of space. Instead, when he stepped into the grand assembly hall, he realized once again how limited his imagination still was.
The hall was enormous. Not large by common standards but large by noble standards. The ceiling arched so high that chandeliers floated like distant constellations. Pillars carved with runic sigils lined the hall in perfect symmetry. The marble floor shimmered under layered enchantments that absorbed sound, ensuring no echo disturbed the refined atmosphere. Even with hundreds of students present, the hall felt spacious. No one bumped into one another and no one stood uncomfortably close. There was room to breathe, to observe, and to dominate. So this was how prestige manifested in architecture.
Baston glanced around. Even in gathering numbers that would overwhelm most academies, Zeverius Academy left generous space between rows as if cramped seating itself would insult noble dignity. Of course, nobles did not like narrow spaces. Instead, they liked territory.
The seating arrangement was equally deliberate. The front rows were wide and luxurious, adorned with engraved crests and subtle defensive arrays. The middle rows were respectable but modest. The rear rows were narrower, less ornamented, and more practical.
Prius Academy was seated at the back. Baston was not surprised. At the academy itself, he usually sat at the back of class. Here, he also sat at the back. He almost laughed of such arrangement. Was it fate or
simply hierarchy repeating itself? Alicia sat upright beside him with flawless posture. Anderson remained composed on his other side. Neither of them complained.
The procession began. Once all representatives were seated, Baston scanned the hall again. Even filled, the venue retained elegance. The scale of noble institutions truly dwarfed his previous understanding. Then, the host stepped forward.
"Everyone, thank you for your precious time in attending this meeting. We are honored to welcome you to our humble academy…"
Humble? Baston almost admired the audacity of that word. The speech was polished, diplomatic, and long. It touched on cooperation, unity, and shared responsibility. Students listened with dignified expressions though many eyes wandered subtly. Most here were nobles. They had practiced appearing attentive since childhood. Baston listened carefully, not to the words, but to
the intention beneath them. Eventually, the speaker transitioned.
"There are many matters to discuss. However, before we proceed, I would like to address the recent incidents that have occurred across multiple academies."
The hall subtly shifted. Their attention sharpened. Surely, it must talk about the recent explosions. That word had not been spoken yet, but it lingered in everyone's mind.
"Several institutions have suffered destructive attacks. Some of you present here experienced them firsthand."
Murmurs spread. Prius Academy indeed had been attacked. But eventually, they were not alone. Even prestigious academies had been struck. The implication was chilling.
"Yes, sir…" one student stood, "I believe this was a deliberate threat from an organized group."
"A terrorist faction," another added.
"There were casualties at ours."
"I heard royalty has already begun investigation."
"They cannot allow this to continue."
Many worried voices overlapped. There was concern, anger, and pride. Most of them were nobles. They were not accustomed to being threatened. Baston remained quiet. He was still observing. Zeverius Academy's host smiled faintly, not dismissively, but strategically. He allowed discussion to build before steering it. Then, a voice cut through the hall.
"Everyone, perhaps we should also hear opinions from other social classes."
The tone was smooth. It was quite calculated. Baston's eyes shifted, staring at the one who suddenly spoke out of nowhere. Of course, he had already expected it. Clark rose slowly with confident posture and lifted
chin.
"Most of us here come from noble backgrounds. A handful from merchant families. But there is also a representative from the poor class at present."
For a brief second, Baston did not react. He had anticipated this move since the moment Clark saw him entering the hall. The boy never wasted an opportunity to take advantage of his status. What Baston measured now was not insult but timing. Clark chose this exact moment, right after the discussion of explosions, to provoke division. That meant he wanted attention
and not truth.
"Interesting…"
If Clark had waited until the end of the meeting, the effect would be weaker. By striking early, he aimed to frame Baston as illegitimate before any serious discourse began. So, this was not merely jealousy. It was strategy. Unfortunately for him, Baston preferred performing on stage rather than hiding behind curtains.
"What?"
"A poor class?"
"Which academy would dare?"
"The requirement was clear. It was only the strongest representative may attend!"
Voices rose sharply. Their contempt could not be hidden. Curiosity soon sharpened into disdain. Baston felt dozens, hundreds of gazes sweeping across the hall. They were searching for this person. The host raised a hand.
"Please maintain decorum."
Silence returned though tension remained.
"May the student in question stand?"
Alicia shifted and Anderson inhaled. Soon, Baston gently raised his hand, signaling them to remain seated. Then, he stood calmly and unhurriedly. He felt the weight of the hall settle upon him. The whispers quickly intensified.
"So that's him?"
"He looks so ordinary."
"He's just fat pig."
There was laughter but it quickly suppressed. The host examined Baston carefully.
"Zeverius Academy stated clearly that only the strongest representative from each institution may attend. If you are not qualified, I am afraid this hall has no seat for you."
Before Baston could reply, another voice interrupted.
"I object!"
Alicia stood. Her voice carried authority. It was controlled yet firm.
"The academy sent him because he is our strongest representative. If there is a doubt, you may measure his magic."
Anderson stood as well.
"I also confirm that. Despite being fat, he is the strongest among us."
Baston almost sighed. Why mentioned his body? He kept his expression neutral as much as possible. The host hesitated but Clark pressed forward.
"Then, I propose a simple test. Let the instrument decide whether he's indeed strong or not..."
He looked satisfied. He believed Baston would fail or at least barely pass. Alicia's eyes turned cold. Baston, however, smiled faintly. This was better than being quietly expelled. Since the opponent provided a stage, he would perform to his best.
"I agree," Baston said calmly, "But fairness requires the proposer to also be measured."
Clark's expression tightened.
"That is unnecessary..."
"Only you raised the accusation…" Baston replied lightly, "And only you revealed the information of my background. Supposedly, that suggests prior investigation."
Subtle murmurs rippled, thinking the words were quite correct. No one would know if Clark never sprouted such fact.
"Are you jealous?" Baston added gently.
The word struck. Some nobles exchanged glances. Clark's reputation regarding Alicia was not entirely secret. Soon, entertainment
replaced boredom. Having a long discussion made everyone quite sleepy. Since there was a show, they demanded the exciting one. Clark had no retreat.
"Very well…"
The testing instrument was brought forward. A polished crystalline pillar connected to layered measurement arrays. Zeverius Academy's staff operated it personally. Clark approached first. He placed his hand upon the surface, channeling mana confidently. The crystal flared and the numbers climbed steadily.
[100… 101… 102…]
The pace soon slowed down before finally stabilizing.
[400… 450…]
Soon, the hall reacted.
"Impressive."
"He's from Junior class but he's already at 450?"
"He could become senior-level before graduation."
Clark returned to his seat with a triumphant smirk directed at Baston. There was one time that Baston might have felt tension. It was only once and it was before he obtained flare element, before he completed the
previous quest. Now, he simply stepped forward.
"It's your turn," Clark sneered.
"Of course."
Baston placed his hand on the crystal. He did not release everything. He released enough. His mana surged and soon, the crystal responded. The numbers rose as intended.
[100… 101… 102…]
It wasn't slowing. The numbers kept increasing.
[400…]
Murmurs began, pondering if Baston indeed stronger than what they thought.
[450…]
The number soon passed Clark's score.
[500…]
There were gasps as soon as it passed the score. Everyone thought it would stop sooner but they were wrong. They were not ready for such numbers.
[600…]
The staff frowned. He checked the panel just to make sure the instrument worked fine. The result was the measurement was correct.
[700…]
The hall fell silent, unable to believe such high numbers for Junior class.
[800…]
The staff recalibrated the panel but the same numbers were kept being displayed.
[900…]
Now, even the nobles leaned forward. They were curious over the score. The crystal flared violently before it slowed down.
[1000…]
It soon stabilized. The hall did not react immediately. There was a silence before an uproar commenced.
"What?"
"Impossible!"
"Is the instrument malfunctioning?"
The staff's face had gone pale. He checked twice to be sure, three times to be absolutely sure. Nothing was wrong with the machine. It was fine after all this time.
"The score is confirmed…" he announced hoarsely. "The magic score is 1000."
Shock detonated more violently than any explosion discussed earlier. Even Zeverius Academy's students looked unsettled. How could it be? How could Prius Academy deemed as average had Junior class with score of 1000? That would place him near elite senior threshold.
Clark's face was drained of color. He stared at the crystal as if betrayal had occurred. Alicia did not smile. She simply folded her arms and she had already expected dominance, even though she had not expected this magnitude. Anderson exhaled slowly, thinking how strong this classmate of him. Baston withdrew his hand calmly. Inside, the old book remained silent. There was no notification and no rating but the hall was evaluating him. That was enough. The
host's expression transformed. Respect replaced skepticism.
"It appears…" he said carefully, "That Prius Academy did not disrespect this gathering."
Subtle laughter followed while Clark remained rigid. However, Baston was not finished. He turned slightly toward the hall.
"If I may speak…"
The host gestured, "You can proceed."
Baston faced the assembly, "I am indeed from the poor class…"
Murmurs resumed but it was softer now.
"But explosions did not discriminate between noble and poor..."
That sentence silenced them.
"Whoever orchestrated those attacks does not care about lineage…"
He let that sink in.
"If we divide ourselves by status while our enemy acts without such division, then we are assisting them."
The nobles shifted. It was uncomfortable but logical. The enemy likely only wanted to evoke chaos.
"My academy may not be the most prestigious…" Baston continued evenly, "But we experienced the same threat. Therefore, our perspective is equally valid."
He did not raise his voice. He did not posture. He simply stood with confident and measured expression. The host nodded slowly.
"Your point is acknowledged."
Clark could no longer challenge without appearing petty. The narrative had shifted. Baston returned to his seat but the atmosphere had changed. Students were no longer looking at him with ridicule. They were
measuring him, evaluating this new threat, and calculating alliance potential. Prestige
had been quantified and he had surpassed expectation.
The meeting resumed but attention occasionally drifted back toward the back rows. Even from the rear seat, Baston had moved to the center of awareness. Alicia leaned slightly toward him.
"You kind of held back…" she whispered.
Baston's lips curved faintly, "Of course…"
Anderson blinked, "You held back?"
Baston did not reply. He stared toward the front rows. Clark quickly avoided his gaze. Just the score of 1000, that was not merely survival. That was dominance. Even though his strength could answer many doubts, but
Baston understood something critical. Power displayed once became expectation, twice became pressure, and thrice became target. Today, he needed recognition. Tomorrow, he would need caution.
The meeting transitioned into strategic discussions about investigation
coordination, defensive reinforcement, and intelligence sharing. Yet, beneath every topic lingered a new undercurrent. If someone like Baston existed from the poor class and from an average academy, then perhaps the structure of power was not as rigid as nobles believed. That idea was more destabilizing than any explosion.
Baston realized the effect of his performance. Inside, he quietly wondered what rating the old book would assign if this was on the quest. His words were not for strength but for performance. The hall had
witnessed and the nobles had reacted. Clark had been humiliated and his prestige had shifted. While the stage had been conquered, he lowered his gaze slightly. This
was only the beginning.