Ray had heard rumors before arriving at the academy. Victors receiving rewards after competitions. With a teacher as formidable as Alfred, the prize had to be impressive.
Hope bloomed.
Alfred led them into his office.
The room was pitifully small, barely ten square meters. A desk. A cupboard. A single chair.
"The trash I referred to includes both of you," Alfred said flatly.
Raziel Phoenix's last shred of hope died.
Alfred turned his gaze to Ray. "Your performance was acceptable. However, you did not fight with everything you had. That Silverfalls Vine of yours is a variant. Its tenacity is remarkable, but your soul power is weak and unsustainable. Against opponents with higher soul power, you will lose."
His eyes shifted to the hammers.
"And those hammers?"
Ray hesitated before answering honestly. "I learned forging before."
