Lord Acheon and the two boys quickly began walking as they’d lost sight of the Dean and Lord Terrace.
After walking for a few minutes, Lord Acheon and the boys found Lord Terrace and Dwan Godsthorn approaching a familiar door and rushed after them.
Damon followed the others into Dean Godsthorn’s office once more, the familiar room carrying a sense of weight after the tense encounter at the teleportation hall.
The group gathered around as Dean Godsthorn took his seat, his eyes flickering between the two Lords and their sons. The silence hung for a moment before Damon spoke up, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.
“Father,” he began, looking at Lord Terrace with a mixture of respect and hesitation, “what rank are you?”
Lord Terrace regarded his son with a thoughtful expression. “You’ll learn that as you get stronger,” he replied, his voice even and calm. But before he could continue, Dean Godsthorn interjected, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Your father is at the peak of the Epic Rank, Damon,” the Dean said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Just below the Legendary Rank.”
Damon’s eyes widened, and he nodded gratefully toward the Dean. “Thank you, Dean Godsthorn.” He turned to Lord Acheon, who had initially suggested he ask his father.
Damon’s eyes met with the Lord’s, and Lord Acheon gave a light shrug. Damon on the other hand, nodded sideways gently with his lips spread slightly as if to say,
I told you so.
The Dean’s expression grew more serious as he turned back to both Lords. “When do you plan to leave?” he asked.
Lord Acheon answered first. “We have two days here, today and tomorrow. We’ll leave the day after.”
The Dean’s eyes lit up with a sudden idea. These weren’t just any guests; they were former students, elite warriors who had achieved great power. He saw an opportunity, a way to make use of their presence.
Training. The final-year students were away on their year-long personal missions, and the fourth-year students were preparing for theirs. There was no better time to let these experienced Lords share their expertise. Even if it would only be for a day.
Dean Godsthorn leaned forward, his gaze intent. “Lord Terrace, your talent is the S-Rank Grand Magic Swordsman, correct?”
Lord Terrace nodded, and Damon’s interest piqued even further. It was the first time he had heard his father’s talent spoken of in such clear terms, and it explained the similarities he had always felt between himself and his father. Especially why his father had been glad he’d awakened such a talent at the Awakening Ritual ceremony.
The Dean turned to Lord Acheon. “And you, Lord Acheon—an S-Rank Grand Variant Mage, is that right?”
“That is correct, Dean.” Lord Acheon nodded, and his son Daveon spoke up, curiosity lighting his eyes. “Father, what’s a Variant Mage exactly?”
Lord Acheon considered his son’s question for a moment before answering. “A Variant Mage is a rare type of mage who doesn’t rely on basic elemental magic like fireballs or water blasts. Instead, we use specific variants—unique forms of magic like lava, metal, or gravity.”
As Lord Acheon spoke, he noticed that Damon was also interested in his explanation, listening attentively to everything he had to say. “Our strength lies in merging different elements to amplify the variant’s power. We can use basic elemental magic, but it’s weak compared to our true abilities.”
Daveon nodded slowly, absorbing the explanation. The rarity and complexity of Variant Mages made them unique, and now he understood more of what made his father so powerful.
Satisfied with their answers, Dean Godsthorn stood. “Thank you. Now, I’d like to make use of your talents while you’re here. The fourth-year students will benefit greatly from your experience.” He paused, looking between the two Lords. “Is there anything you wish to say or do with your children before the last day of your stay?”
Lord Terrace and Lord Acheon exchanged glances, then shook their heads. “We’ll speak with them before we leave,” Lord Terrace said, his tone resolute.
Dean Godsthorn nodded in understanding. “Very well.” He turned to Damon and Daveon. “Return to your classes.”
‘Oh well, time to return and probably see what lies in this ring.’ Damon thought as he rubbed the silver ring he’d received from his father.
Damon and Daveon rose up simultaneously and exchanged glances but obeyed without question, leaving the room.
As the doors closed behind them, the Dean addressed both Lords once more. “Lord Terrace, you’ll handle close combat training. Lord Acheon, you’ll teach the students how to merge elemental spells to create variants.”
Both men agreed, understanding the importance of preparing the next generation for the battles to come. Without another word, Dean Godsthorn led them out of his office and toward the area designated for the fourth-year students.
The walk was brisk, and the weight of what lay ahead pressed upon them all. Training wasn’t just about honing skills; it was about preparing for war.
The building was large, a three-story structure shaped like a box. It was a marvel to behold with students walking around the place.
The first floor was one large hall while the other floors were separated into smaller classrooms for various lectures.
The building also had an underground floor that had a few sparring and seclusion rooms for students who wanted to train in isolation.
When they reached the hall where the fourth-year classes were held, they found all of the students’ teachers gathered together, instructing their combined classes in the large space.
As Dean Godsthorn stepped into the room, every head turned.
“Greetings, Dean!” The teachers immediately straightened, saluting the Dean with respect, and the students followed suit, bowing their heads in the presence of their Dean, their eyes wide with curiosity.
The Dean raised a hand, signaling for silence. “We have guests,” he announced, stepping aside to reveal Lord Terrace and Lord Acheon. The room erupted into whispers, excitement and awe spreading through the students like wildfire. From their reactions, it was clear they knew both men.