A few days had passed since the disastrous trip to The Rusty Tavern, where Baric had publicly announced Arion's "engagement" to the entire bar.
Arion lay completely flat on the plush velvet couch in her hidden seventh-floor office. His boots hung lazily over the armrest, and the steady crunch of him eating from a pouch of roasted, spiced nuts echoed through the quiet room.
Behind her heavy mahogany desk, Teacher Sophia Irene was entirely ignoring the tall stack of theoretical essays demanding her attention. Instead, she was leaning back in her plush leather chair with her eyes closed, savoring a steaming cup of incredibly expensive lavender tea. For once, she was actually letting herself enjoy the secretly luxurious atmosphere of her suite. Surprisingly, the lazy, rhythmic crunching of the "Walking Cataclysm" eating on her couch had become oddly peaceful.
The roaring fireplace cast a warm, flickering light across the imported marble floor.
Click.
The rotting, heavy wooden door to the hidden suite swung open. There was no knock.
Sophia's eyes snapped open.
Standing in the doorway was the Principal's beautiful Secretary. She held a thick stack of administrative files, and on her face was that polite smile—the kind of smile a shark gives before it decides which limb to eat first.
For a brief second, the Secretary's eyes scanned the opulent room. She looked at the crystal chandelier. She looked at the expensive white velvet couch. Then, her gaze dropped down to the twenty-two-year-old student casually lounging on it.
Sophia's heart dropped completely into her stomach.
She vividly remembered her own strict warning to Arion on the very first day: If the Principal finds out I'm using the budget for interior decorating instead of research, I'm fired.
Sophia scrambled to her feet, her chair scraping loudly against the marble floor. She practically threw her teacup aside.
"Secretary!" Sophia blurted out, frantically grabbing a stack of grading rubrics to look busy. "I assure you, this—this environment is strictly a localized illusion spell! For advanced spatial study! I am absolutely not misusing Academy funds!"
Arion didn't even sit up. He just tilted his head backward over the cushions to look at the door upside down. "Morning," he yawned.
The Secretary did not gasp or yell.
"Good morning, Teacher Sophia," the Secretary said smoothly, stepping inside and letting the door click shut. "Your 'illusion' is incredibly detailed. I can even smell the expensive lavender tea. However, you can lower the parchment. I am not here for a financial audit."
Sophia slumped heavily back into her leather chair, hiding her burning face behind the papers. Her pulse was hammering against her ribs.
The Secretary stepped forward and dropped a heavy, gold-trimmed file onto the desk.
"I bring official Academy business," the Secretary announced, her sharp, nasal voice cutting through the quiet room. "The Academy's Midterm Exhibition Tournament is exactly three weeks from today. All first-year students are required to participate."
Arion paused mid-chew. "A tournament?"
"Yes," the Secretary replied, looking down at him. "A mandatory event to display magical capabilities in a controlled combat setting."
Arion sighed, letting his head thump back against the velvet cushions. "Sounds exhausting. I'll pass. I have a very busy schedule of doing nothing."
"You cannot pass!" Sophia groaned, dropping her stack of papers in exasperation. "As a registered student, it is a strict curriculum requirement! If you forfeit, you will face immediate expulsion, and as your Caretaker, I will be heavily penalized!"
"Just tell them my magic is too barbaric for their arena," Arion dismissed, closing his eyes. "I already proved I can beat a labyrinth. I'm not fighting a bunch of kids just to show off."
"I had a feeling you would say that," the Secretary noted mildly. She reached into her folder and pulled out a separate, remarkably thick stack of parchment. "Which is why the theory professor and several of the older board members have already prepared your expulsion paperwork."
Arion let out a sudden, loud laugh.
He swung his legs off the couch and sat up, looking at the Secretary with a highly amused grin.
"Expulsion paperwork?" Arion scoffed, dusting some crumbs off his jacket. "Are you kidding me? Weeks ago, I cleared the Eastern Labyrinth in exactly eighteen minutes. You think the board is going to kick me out just because I don't want to play in a supervised sandbox?"
Sophia blinked, peering over her desk. He had a point. The administration wouldn't dare throw him out after he had secured the stamped golden token so effortlessly.
The Secretary's polite smile did not waver. In fact, it grew a fraction wider.
"The Principal is fully aware that we cannot easily expel our newest student," the Secretary agreed smoothly. "The other teachers know it, too."
"Exactly," Arion smirked, crossing his arms behind his head. "So tell them I'm skipping it."
"However," the Secretary continued, her voice dropping to a dangerously sweet pitch. "While they cannot expel you... they can heavily penalize your Caretaker."
Arion stopped smiling.
The Secretary turned her sharp gaze to Sophia. "The other professors are furious about your labyrinth assessment. They firmly believe that your completion time was fraudulent. You did not use geometric pathing. You merely kicked down a false wall and sneaked behind the Minotaur to steal the token."
Sophia felt the blood drain from her face.
"They need a public venue to prove you are a fraud," the Secretary listed off, tapping the gold-trimmed file. "They are eager to see you disqualified the moment you step into a regulated arena—a flat, open space where you cannot hide behind structural engineering and are expected to follow the strict rules of twelve words."
The Secretary leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the mahogany desk.
"If you refuse to participate and prove them wrong, they will declare Teacher Sophia incompetent. They will officially strip her of her research funding. And, most importantly, they will launch a full, invasive investigation into her finances to see exactly how a junior teacher afforded this lovely, imported velvet sofa on a standard salary."
The room went completely silent.
Sophia looked at the Secretary in absolute horror. Then, she slowly turned her head to look at Arion. Her eyes were wide, desperate, and practically begging. I will go to jail, her expression screamed.
Arion stared at Sophia for a long moment. He let out a deep, heavy sigh, aggressively scratching the back of his messy hair.
The professors were playing dirty. They knew they couldn't control him, so they were using his easily flustered, rule-obsessed teacher as a hostage. They wanted to force him into a corner where his magic would be restricted by their rules, or ruin Sophia's life if he refused.
"Fine," Arion groaned, standing up from the couch. He glared at the Secretary. "You guys are absolute menaces, you know that?"
"We prefer the term 'highly persuasive,'" the Secretary smiled, pulling a sleek enrollment quill from her pocket and placing it on the desk. "Sign here, please."
Three weeks remained until the Midterm Exhibition Tournament.
The Academy had officially descended into absolute panic.
Everywhere you looked, first-year students were frantically tracing glowing geometric bases in the air. The courtyards echoed with the overlapping, desperate chanting of twelve-word divine petitions. People were sweating and burning through their mana reserves trying to perfect their casting speed.
And then, there was Arion.
Zzzzz.
Deep inside the Academy's Grand Library, near the massive arched windows, Arion was completely dead to the world.
He was slouched back in a plush reading chair, his legs kicked up onto the mahogany table. A book was carelessly draped over his face to block the sunlight.
The title of the book was not any magical theory.
It was 100 Ways to Cook a Slime.
"Look at him," a blonde noble student whispered from behind a nearby bookshelf, scoffing loudly. "Is he actually asleep?"
"He's given up," his friend sneered, clutching a glowing textbook. "He knows the older professors have trapped him. In a regulated arena, you have to use proper geometric bases and the twelve words of binding."
The blonde noble smirked. "Exactly. Everyone knows he just throws raw mana around like a barbarian. He probably doesn't even know a single ancient verse. He's going to be disqualified in three seconds."
Twitch.
On the other side of the library, standing near the Advanced Elementals section, Exousia Ignis froze.
She heard the two nobles laughing. Her right eye twitched violently.
He doesn't know a single ancient verse?! Exousia screamed internally, her hands clenching into tight fists.
Her mind violently flashed back to Teacher Sophia's office. She vividly remembered Arion casually pointing a single finger at the ceiling. She remembered him rattling off nineteen words of an ancient dialect she didn't even recognize, his pronunciation flawless and rapid-fire. She remembered the terrifying, blinding crimson magic circle that had nearly vaporized the entire room before he compressed it down into a tiny, harmless matchstick flame.
You absolute idiots! Exousia wanted to scream at the two smug nobles. If he decides to actually chant in that arena, he isn't going to be disqualified! He is going to incinerate the entire building!
She took a furious step forward, fully intending to march over there and demand the clueless students show some respect for the walking hazard sleeping in the chair.
But before she could cross the room, a disturbing sound stopped her.
Scribble. Scribble. Scribble.
Exousia looked to her right.
Crouched directly behind a towering stack of encyclopedias, peering through a small gap in the books, was Sebastian Ambrose.
He was wearing an incredibly thick pair of reinforced crystal goggles. His blue eyes were wide, manic, and unblinking. He was furiously writing in a leather notebook, completely ignoring the rest of the world.
"Fascinating..." Sebastian muttered under his breath, chewing on the end of his quill. "Notice the slow, rhythmic expansion of his chest. He is employing a chantless, zero-base respiratory cycle! By completely relaxing his physical form, the raw ambient mana of the library is naturally circulating through his abnormally dense internal pathways!"
Exousia stared at Sebastian in utter disbelief. "Sebastian. He is literally just snoring."
"That is exactly what he wants the orthodox fools to think!" Sebastian hissed back, aggressively tapping his notebook. "Look at the book on his face! 100 Ways to Cook a Slime! It's a metaphor! He is mentally simulating thermal applications on monstrous physiology! He is training in his sleep!"
Exousia let out a high-pitched noise of pure frustration that was halfway between a groan and a scream.
Idiots! I am surrounded by absolute idiots!
She spun on her heel, her long black hair whipping behind her. She stomped out of the Grand Library, leaving a faint trail of angry, harmless sparks in her wake.
Back at the table, Arion snorted loudly, shifting in his sleep. The cookbook slid off his face and hit the floor with a soft thud.
He lazily cracked one golden eye open, scratching his stomach.
"Man," Arion yawned to the empty air. "Libraries are great."