The first to enter was a man who defied all expectation. He appeared to be in his forties, with dark skin, deep brown eyes, and an unassuming height of 5'8". He moved with a quiet gravity that demanded attention, not through spectacle, but through sheer presence.
"Who's that?" a student whispered.
"That's the head of the Shadow Council," another replied, voice hushed with awe.
"Waw, he's really short for a head council," the boy with the transparent hat joked, earning a few nervous titters.
"Height aside, he's really strong," Vex commented, taking a calm bite of his meat as if discussing the weather.
Following the first councilman, the other five arrived simultaneously, all shrouded in dark brown robes, while their leader wore a robe of deep, shadowy purple. They took their seats with a synchronized, unsettling silence.
Flint looked toward the headmaster, expecting him to take over the proceedings. The headmaster, however, gave a subtle, almost imperceptible shake of his head, signaling for Flint to continue. Flint swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet hall, and stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Let's now welcome the House Leaders," he announced, his voice straining for authority. "First, let's welcome House Vareth!"
A man in a brilliant red dragon robe strode in. He stood 6'2", his frame thick with muscle, and looked to be in his mid-fifties. Long black hair, untouched by any wind, floated and drifted around his head as if moved by its own power. A blood-red ring gleamed on his index finger.
"This is not good," Han muttered, his eyes locking with his brother, Hins, who returned the tense gaze from across the room.
"Since when did instructors start welcoming House Heads?" a gentle, feminine voice chided. A tall, slender woman glided in, wearing a moon-colored robe bearing the House Eclipsera insignia.
"Seriously, Draeven, you need to stop overlooking these things," she said. The House Vareth head, Draeven, turned slowly. "Keep my name out of your mouth, Lucy," he warned, his voice a low rumble.
Another figure entered—a slim man of 5'11" wearing a simple shirt and trousers, a stark contrast to the others. "Calm down, you two. As you can see, the Headmaster is clearly too old for this," he said with a disarming smile. A clear vein throbbed on the Headmaster's forehead. "House Mirevale," the man announced, clicking his tongue.
"Ha! Look who's calling someone old. Sounds like you've lost a few screws, Malen," Draeven shot back.
*Swoosh—* A gust of wind filled the hall as a woman descended Infront of the entrance, her massive, pristine wings folding behind her. She wore a helmet and white linen cloth that seemed to glow. A collective gasp rippled through the student body.
"Waw, it's the head of House Virellen!"
"Look at those huge wings!"
"Her name is Ruth," Vex explained quietly, though the hall was so silent his voice carried. "The wings are a technique and a skill, but more of a relic passed down from the first house head. It's said the wings can withstand the power of five Level 9, making it the ultimate defense." His knowledge did not go unnoticed. Every elder, council member, and house head subtly took note of him, a shared thought passing between them: *'So, he's the Keeper's child.'*
Oscar leaned in, whispering, "It's said only the current king was able to leave a dent on it."
"Well, if there's one scary thing about it," Vex added, "it's the fact that the wings can regenerate."
The moment Ruth reached the stage where the other three house heads stood, the atmosphere in the hall twisted. An immense pressure pinned the students to their desks. Even the five house elders and the Shadow Council felt the weight, though it was applied to them with less crushing force. A clear, sharp killing intent saturated the air.
"What the—?" the Headmaster exclaimed, stunned.
"Who dares?!" Malen Mirevale demanded.
"Isn't it obvious?" Draeven said calmly, looking utterly relaxed as his gaze settled on the Freehold elders—the Rufan elder, to be precise. "Better put those wings of yours away, Ruth. You should know the history."
But Ruth clicked her tongue in disdain. "You think I'm afraid of a little elder?"
"No, Ruth, you should be. You always take the—" Lucy began, but she never got to finish her sentence.
The mood shifted again, violently. This time it was different—a focused, murderous intent. Flint, reacting on pure instinct, looked at the Headmaster and slammed his hands together, activating the hall's protective barrier just as a blur of dark smoke shot toward the stage.
The House Leaders, recognizing the target, scattered.
*CLANK!*
*BOOM!*
The dust settled to reveal Shuka, the Rufan elder. His right hand was slammed against Ruth's wing, and his left held a short sword, its edge also biting into the luminous feathers. The impact had pushed Ruth back four full steps.
*'She's lucky she reacted fast,'* the Headmaster thought. *'It would have been a profound embarrassment if she had taken a direct hit like that in front of the students.'*
"Such strong and raw power, to push Ruth four steps back," Draeven mused aloud.
"Well, it's obvious. With their history, he wouldn't hold back in front of House Virellen's great wings. But to push her back..." Malen added.
The observation sparked a wave of murmurs from elders, council, and students alike.
"House Virellen's leader was pushed back!"
Hearing this, Ruth felt her house's name and prestige crumbling. *'These hungry house leaders, trying to ruin me. Even the Headmaster...'* she seethed.
With a speed that defied perception, she slipped a hand through her wings, grabbed Shuka by his collar, pulled him in close, and delivered a devastating kick to his stomach.
*Clack—* His sword hit the floor.
*Crack—* The sound of breaking ribs echoed through the hall.
The students recoiled at the sickening noise as Shuka was sent flying backward toward the barrier. He managed to arrest his momentum at the last second, skidding to a halt. Wiping blood from his mouth, he growled, "You really live up to the name of Leader of House Virellen and—"
"Shut up!" Ruth interrupted, lunging at him. As she moved, her wings fused with her arms, transforming her fist into a weapon capable of taking off the head of a Level 8 . Seeing this, Shuka responded in kind, tearing the cloth from his right hand to reveal a dark green glove that pulsed with an unnatural, malevolent power.
*'What is that glow?'* The thought echoed in the mind of every onlooker.
The two forces met. For a split second, there was silence.
"The students! The barrier won't hold!" screamed the Headmaster. But before Flint or anyone could react—
*BOOM!*
An explosion of force erupted outwards, slamming the elders and Shadow Council members against the walls. A magnetic, repulsive energy field surged around the combatants, pushing back even the House Leaders, who staggered but remained on their feet, cut off from the students.
"It's like a barrier! Nothing I do breaks it!" Malen shouted in frustration, and the others nodded in grim acknowledgment.
"Move aside!" the Headmaster commanded. He channeled his essence, landing four consecutive, shattering punches against the invisible wall. It didn't budge.
"It won't work, Headmaster. It's like his..." Says Draeven, his eyes darting toward the Umbracrown throne.
Seeing this, the Headmaster nodded grimly. "True, but how did the Rufan have something that carries the King's essence trait?" Headmaster Theodore wondered aloud.
As the other House Heads understood the implication, Malen chimed in, "Wait, if it's the King's, doesn't that mean it's going to—"
"No," Draeven cut in. "It won't do that. It's slightly different."
*BOOM!*
Another blast of raw essence energy shot from the epicenter of the fight, aimed directly at the faltering student barrier. Flint dove in front of it, a desperate human shield, but the force was too immense. The strange, repulsive trait within the energy resisted him, and before he could even get close, his right arm exploded in a shower of blood and bone. He was thrown back with full force, impaled on a shattered light fixture hanging from the ceiling.
*'I failed to protect the students... again,'* he cursed, before his world went dark.
Meanwhile, the rogue energy slammed into the barrier.
*CRACK! CRACK!*
The barrier shattered. The lethal energy rushed straight toward the table where Zerathos and his group sat.
Pandemonium erupted. Students threw up every defensive technique they possessed, layering pathetic shields in the blast's path. They knew if that thing hit the ground, everyone would die.
"Stop! It won't work! Just run!" Stacey screamed.
But Zerathos stood frozen. *'Ha. So the saying is true. You can't escape death twice.'*
"Come on, Zerathos, run!" Vex shouted, pulling at his arm.
Zerathos was now the only one at the front. He could feel his skin burning, the heat of annihilation searing his face. He closed his eyes.
*SLAM!*
The double doors of the hall, which had refused to open earlier, were blown off their hinges. A portly, pot-bellied man in a businessman's suit and tie shot through the air like a cannonball. He planted himself before the blast, grunting with effort as he halted the destructive energy a mere ten feet from Zerathos's face. It dissipated in his grasp, and he landed with a heavy thud on the floor.
*'Ha... ha... I'm saved again,'* Zerathos thought, his legs giving way beneath him.
"Hey, that's the Gravemont House Leader!" someone shouted.
"We're saved!" a girl cried, her voice cracking with relief.
"What are those fools doing?" the Gravemont leader barked. He rushed to separate the two combatants but soon found himself facing the same impenetrable barrier as the other House Leaders, who watched helplessly from the opposite side.
"Draeven, can't you breach this? You've done it before, right?" the Headmaster asked, his voice thick with worry.
"I can," Draeven replied, his expression grim. "But the students would be caught in the backlash. There are only two men who can stop this now, apart from the King."
"And what is going on here?" a new voice inquired, cold and sharp as a blade.
"I'm gonna get an earful," the Headmaster muttered, as he rubbed his forehead.
A tall man in white-grey robes stepped into the ravaged hall. He took in the scene—the two elders locked in their deadly tug-of-war—and understood instantly.
*'Hmm. So he used it,'* he thought. He reached into his robe and produced a small, crystalline orb, letting it float toward the fighters.
Seeing it, Ruth tried desperately to disengage. *'That orb... I've seen it before. Wait, that means *he's* here. I have to stop! I can't let that orb reach me!'* But the magnetic pull of Shuka's glove held her fast.
The orb floated to a point four inches from the clashing energies. It shone with a soft, grey light, and began to absorb the essence from both combatants, sucking the fury and power from the air.
Fifteen seconds later.
*THUMP.*
Ruth fell to one knee, gasping, most of her essence drained. Shuka slumped forward, equally spent.
"That took a lot more time than expected, right, Vice Leader?" said an old, booming voice.
Immediately, Vex's head snapped toward the door. "I know that voice..." he whispered, a rare look of shock on his face. "...Father." The revelation did not go unnoticed by Oscar or Zerathos.
An old, yet powerfully muscular man stepped into the hall. He had a head of grey hair and looked to be in his eighties, though appearances were always deceiving in this world. He was far, far older.
"Yes, I suppose so, Eternal Scribe," the Vice Leader replied, looking slightly winded. "More than I expected. It's been a long time since I've had to use it."
The old man—the Eternal Scribe, Azerion Vaelorn—chuckled, a sound like grinding stones. "Then stop slacking off."