Capítulo 46: end of year exams looming

Our post-tower respite was far from leisurely, as we found ourselves plunged into a whirlwind of assignments and schoolwork. Challenging the tower had left us scrambling to catch up with our studies. Something about challenging the tower not being part of our 'official' studies.With final exams looming just a month away, there was no time to waste—we had to buckle down and make up for lost time.

The Obsidian Order barely met, each of us was consumed by our own subjects.

Fortunately, my studies in elemental control and magic proved to be less challenging than anticipated. Drawing upon my experiences in the tower, I found myself able to grasp the intricacies of my elemental abilities with relative ease. However, there were still gaps in my understanding, particularly when it came to harnessing the power of darkness— I was astounded by my predecessors ability to use darkness in ingenious ways.

Meanwhile, the bald twins—ever the sadistic duo—threw us into practical exercises with ruthless efficiency. Though the missions were demanding, they paled in comparison to the trials we had faced in the tower.

In the realm of enchantment, I encountered my fair share of challenges. Crafting a random enchanted tool proved to be a daunting task, requiring precision and skill. I couldn't help but recall Selene's misadventures with potions, her face smeared with black tar in her pursuit of mastery. I laugh at the memory of her coming to the room her face barely visible, hidden behind the black smog. Her recent attempts at healing spells, while commendable, I saw her cut off a rabbits limb and try to reattach it. Scary.

As I toiled away in solitude, I couldn't help but wonder about the progress of the Order members. Yet, amidst the whirlwind of assignments and exams, my own workload demanded my full attention.

Positioned at the back of the room, I observe the flurry of conversation with detached interest. To my left stands Professor Harrison, the venerable elder who has long been the sole authority in the realm of enchantment. Despite his advanced age, he exudes an air of weariness, a testament to the decades he has dedicated to his craft. I can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the old professor, knowing that my own arrival as his successor must have been a bittersweet transition for him.

As preparations for the end-of-year exams unfold, I find myself standing apart from the bustling crowd. Unlike my colleagues, I have only one student under my tutelage—a fact that affords me a certain degree of freedom within the confines of academia. With my duties fulfilled, I plan to make a swift exit from this place once the formalities are concluded.

My attention is drawn to the assembly of heads seated before us, engaged in hushed deliberation. The ornate chairs arranged in a semi-circle around the magnificent central seat—the throne of authority—serve as a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play within Tavill Academy. Headmaster Orion, ever the picture of disinterest, presides over the gathering with an air of nonchalance, while Thaddeus looms ominously behind him, only the Headmaster gets the Vice-Headmaster so silent.

The rest of us, mere members of the staff, stand on the periphery of the room, relegated to the role of spectators in this grand spectacle of authority.

As tensions rise among the faculty, Professor Foster Silverpaw's outburst cuts through the subdued murmur of conversation. His frustration is palpable as he grapples with the enigma presented by our seven exceptional students. I suppress a chuckle at his predicament, knowing full well the headache that a certain group of students have caused him. In a world where pedigree and status often dictate one's worth, the disruptive influence of the students is a source of secret amusement to me—a humble commoner. I snicker to myself.

I observe with mild amusement as Professor Foster Silverpaw's minions suck up to him. It's a familiar almost comical sight—one that never fails to elicit a wry smile from me.

Eventually, the elders conclude their deliberations, and a palpable hush falls over the room as the headmaster assumes control of the proceedings.

"It is the culmination of another academic year," the headmaster intones, his voice resonating with the weight of authority that he commands. It's said that his only rival is the Emperor himself—scary.

"As is customary, your examinations are to be submitted to Elder Winston here," the headmaster declares, gesturing towards a formidable figure seated at his left hand. Elder Winston, the first commoner to ascend to the esteemed position of elder, is renowned for his unwavering commitment to maintaining the integrity and security of the academy. Under his vigilant watch, incidents of cheating or security breaches have been virtually non-existent.

"In recent months, we have been witness to an unprecedented phenomenon," the headmaster continues, his tone grave yet tinged with a hint of awe. "Seven first-year students have ascended to the top ranks of the tower, achieving remarkable levels of endurance and mental resilience."

At the mention of this extraordinary feat, Elder Archon visibly swells with pride, his demeanor akin to that of a proud peacock displaying its beautiful colors.

"The longstanding record of the first position, which has remained unchallenged for over a century, has been surpassed," the headmaster announces, his gaze lingering pointedly on Elder Archon. Despite the elder's attempt to mask his satisfaction with a veneer of humility, a knowing smirk betrays his inner pride—a fact that does not go unnoticed by the other house masters, who regard him with thinly veiled disapproval.

"It's interesting that they are all member's of the same club, I guess birds of a feather. Who's the Patron for Obsidian Order?"