After the fight the superviser of the fight sighed a sigh of relief, It seems both of them are okay, my god this year’s promotion is reckless.

Kuroma one of Mashle’s friend, “Unbelievable how you using the gauntlet so efficiently. And that last dodge I thought you was a goner!”

Mashle chuckled. 'He he, Kiros is unbelievably strong,' he remarked. 'I ran multiple simulations in my head. I only had a 10% chance of winning against him.'"

image [https://cdn.midjourney.com/a45300d1-52b8-4730-ac2a-ed665b25357a/0_0.webp]

The female students on the lower floor of the arena watched from behind bars as Mashle caught their attention. His face turned red, and he blushed, noticing their presence. This only seemed to excite the girls even more.

"That's our Mashle! Woo!" Marie shouted with excitement and joy, expressing her admiration and support.

"Thanks, everyone! Couldn't have done it without your support!" responded Mashle with humility and gratitude. His words were sincere, appreciating the encouragement and backing from those who cheered him on.

Mashle's friend, named Emiara, approached him with a mix of pride and concern evident in her eyes. She wore the traditional attire of an academy of magic, a flowing robe woven with intricate patterns of shimmering threads that seemed to dance with every movement.

Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, with a few loose strands framing her face. As she congratulated Mashle with a warm hug, her voice held a hint of admonition. "Congratulations, Mashle! That was incredible," she exclaimed, her tone shifting as she added, "But seriously, you need to be more careful out there. You were too reckless!" Mashle grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I know, I know. But hey, it all worked out, didn't it?" he replied, attempting to lighten the mood. Emiara sighed, shaking her head. "Just promise me you'll think twice next time, okay?"

Mashle's eyes widened in gratitude as he remembered Emiara's last-minute spell that had heightened his perception, enabling him to perceive fast-moving objects with clarity. "Emiara, I couldn't have made it without your quick thinking," he said earnestly, his voice filled with appreciation. "Your spell to slow down fast-moving objects saved me from being overwhelmed. Thank you." Emiara smiled warmly, her cheeks flushing with pride. "Of course, Mashle. We're a team, after all," she replied, her eyes sparkling with camaraderie. "Just remember to stay safe out there." Mashle nodded, a sense of camaraderie strengthening their bond as they stood together, united against whatever challenges lay ahead.

The fight supervisor stepped forward, his voice commanding attention over the lingering cheers. "Alright, everyone, that's enough excitement for today," he announced firmly. "I urge all students to return to their dormitories immediately." Turning to the medics, he continued, "And please, ensure both competitors receive thorough examinations. Safety is our top priority." With a sense of authority, he directed the crowd to disperse, his words carrying weight as the arena gradually emptied. The medics quickly approached Mashle and Kiros, ready to assess any injuries incurred during the intense battle.

Despite his injuries, Kiros, the defeated opponent, rose with fiery determination in his eyes. "I no longer underestimate chrono-technology," he declared, his voice resolute. "Well done, Mashle. You deserve to win. But next time, I will prevail." His words captured everyone's attention, commanding respect despite his loss. In a display of sportsmanship, Kiros fumbled towards his red band clenched in his hand, then extended his arm in a manner resembling a punch, his eyes locked on Mashle. It was a silent promise of future battles yet to come, leaving a palpable tension in the air.

On the second floor, hovering over the arena, Aldeen, the High Archon, observed the ongoing battle with keen interest. "Mmm... that kid Kiros's potential is unbelievable," he mused to himself, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I believe he is also one of the contenders who will join the competition held in the capital next month. We have gathered a remarkable array of talents this year." With a sense of satisfaction, Aldeen continued to watch the unfolding events, already envisioning the promising futures of the academy's most gifted students.

As Aldeen watched Kiros's spirited response to defeat, he chose not to approach Kiros, believing that the young warrior didn't need to hear words of comfort from him. "His resilience is admirable," Aldeen acknowledged to himself. "But he must recognize his weaknesses if he wishes to overcome them." As Aldeen for his son Mashle's performance, a realization dawned upon him. "It seems that Professor Tristan was right about Mashle," he admitted silently to himself. "His strength lies in strategizing and calculating moves." However, Aldeen couldn't shake the concern that this approach might not be effective against opponents with overwhelming strength. "This won't work, unfortunately, against super-strong opponents," he concluded with a hint of regret. Aware of Mashle's potential limitations, Aldeen made a mental note to explore ways to help him develop alternative strategies to complement his tactical skills.

As he reached the office door, he straightened his posture, ready to engage in discussions that would shape the future of the academy's brightest talents. With a firm resolve, he knocked on the door, prepared to share his insights and recommendations with the director.

As Aldeen entered the director's office, the atmosphere shifted palpably. His commanding presence filled the room, and those present couldn't help but feel a sense of intimidation. They knew exactly who he was – Aldeen, the High Archon, a figure of authority and power within the academy.

The professors, each representing diverse specialties, glanced up from their discussions as Aldeen stepped inside. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to a subtle hint of apprehension. They recognized the significance of his presence and understood that his insights carried weight.

Aldeen's gaze swept across the room, acknowledging each professor with a nod of respect before turning his attention to the director. With measured steps, he approached the center of the room, his demeanor exuding confidence and purpose. As he took his place among the gathered educators, the discussion shifted, poised to delve into matters of importance under his watchful eye.

"To begin, I extend my gratitude to each and every one of you. From the animated shouts to the myriad facial expressions of the students, it's evident that they are being exceptionally nurtured. Within them, there exists vulnerability, enigma, ambition for authority, inquiries, and a drive that yearns for divine guidance. We all experienced these sentiments during our youth..."

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He pauses, lowering his head before resuming.

"Some among us were fortunate; we were bestowed with exceptional mentors, while others found solace in nature or a higher power, receiving gifts of wisdom, strength, and fervor. Yet, as we ascend to our current positions, we cannot ignore the element of chance. Along our journey, we encountered individuals less privileged, facing insurmountable hurdles. Some became dissenters, martyrs, thieves, or societal outcasts. The spark within them was quenched. Hence, I implore you to continue nurturing these children, for they will inherit our roles and shape future generations. Perhaps they will find answers to the questions that eluded us."

“Very well said” they said. Most of them nodded, out of acceptance of the speech he gave. The faces and hearts of all the people in the room grew warmer, they felt motivated, and responsible.

"Archon Aldeen, we consider ourselves truly fortunate to have you leading us. We understand the weight of responsibility resting on our shoulders, and I assure you, we are exerting our utmost efforts. Please don't misconstrue my words, but I believe Your Highness didn't journey here solely to offer us encouragement," Director Konan spoke sincerely, bringing his palms together and bowing slightly to convey respect for his direct response.

"Indeed, Konan. I've come with a specific request: to advance the academy contest for new recruits by two week," replied the Archon, his gaze neither tense nor relaxed but keenly attentive. He paused briefly before continuing, "I recognize the careful deliberation that goes into the programs crafted by esteemed professors such as yourselves. I have no desire to interfere with your efforts or undermine your hard work. However, there's a competition in the capital next month, and I believe having a larger pool of candidates to choose from would benefit the academy."

Most of the professors in the room, had doubts, and slighty felt irritated because the admission contest is a lot of work, and if they had to advance it; there might be a slight drop in its quality. As well as, the other students won’t be supervised since the staff and the professors will be evaluating a large pool of candidates.

Professor Leandra stepped, a distinguished figure in the room, was clad in a tailored charcoal suit, exuding an aura of professionalism and authority. Her attire was accentuated with subtle yet elegant accessories, underscoring her refined taste and attention to detail.

As a specialist in cognitive psychology, Professor Leandra's expertise lay in understanding the intricacies of human thought processes and behavior. Her keen analytical mind and empathetic approach made her an invaluable asset to the academic community, garnering respect and admiration from both students and colleagues alike.

"Archon Aldeen, I must admit, like my esteemed colleagues, I harbor reservations regarding the proposal to expedite the admission contest," Professor Leandra spoke thoughtfully, her tone reflecting a blend of caution and consideration. "The process entails meticulous planning and execution, and any haste could potentially diminish the caliber of candidates we attract. Furthermore, the diversion of our attention to evaluating a larger pool of applicants may result in a lack of supervision for our current students."

"Everything's absolutely fine!" exclaimed Rolav, his eyes wide with attention and a cheerful smile brightening his face.

He approached Leandra and spoke, "There's a method, quite simple actually. We'll select representatives from each class." Chuckling with pride, he found happiness in the idea he had conceived.

The director's demeanor hinted at slight stress, a reaction not uncommon given Rolav's tendency to occasionally embarrass himself. Meanwhile, Leandra appeared slightly thrown off by Rolav's amplified interruption.

Rolav continued, "These students exemplify responsibility and organization. Therefore, they will assist us in organizing the admissions contest for our academy! Two birds with two stones! Hi hi..." He chuckled, then corrected himself, "Um... I mean one stone, hi hi hi," laughing as he scratched the back of his head.

Both the director and Leandra let out sighs of relief.

Rolav is the professor of physical conditioning and stamina. Standing at an impressive height of 1.9 meters, he cuts a formidable figure with his shredded, muscular physique. He sports a cape with a sword tucked into it, along with a leather gauntlet adorned with weights encircling his wrist. Additionally, he wears weights on his legs, a testament to his dedication to physical training.

Rumor has it that he is the only individual capable of matching Aldeen in purely physical combat. Many rumors circulate about Rolav's intense training methods. It's said that he used to demolish tree trunks with his fists as a primary form of training.

Students often describe training under Rolav as a nightmare, a grueling yet effective experience that pushes them to their limits.

Rolav's brief words appeared to ease the tension in the room, yet despite knowing Aldeen's safety, his formidable aura still left everyone feeling somewhat careful.

This prompted the oldest man in the room, Professor Modsi, to step forward with a grin and say, "Hehe... for once you say something smart. I thought everything about you was as hard as your muscles" teasing Rolav in a friendly, joking manner. They both shared a knowing look, understanding each other well as friends.

Modsi, the venerable 100-year-old professor of Xeno-arcanery, cut a striking figure in his flowing black robe adorned with intricate symbols. His signature white hat, bearing the symbol of the pentagram, added an aura of mystique to his appearance. Rumors swirled about his expertise, with whispers suggesting that he possessed knowledge of spells capable of summoning celestial phenomena, including meteor showers.

Despite his advanced age, Modsi retained a sharp intellect and a deep understanding of arcane principles. His calm demeanor and quiet confidence belied the immense power he wielded within the realm of Xeno-arcanery.

"Hi hi, you see, my idea even impressed old man Modsi!" Rolav added, laughing once again, "Ha ha ha!"

"Rolav, exercise some restraint and show respect. The High Archon is among us," Konan said in a calm tone, reminding Rolav to be mindful of their esteemed guest.

"I don’t mind, actually I enjoy talking to spontaneous and competent people like Rolav. You won’t believe it, but the office work as an Archon actually makes me hate excessive formalities and fake manners. However, I do appreciate genuine manners from people who truly care, like you," replied the High Archon, expressing appreciation for sincerity and genuine connections amidst the formalities of their position.

"Then esteemed professors, I suppose I shall take my leave now. I'm glad we've found a way forward," said the High Archon, expressing gratitude for the resolution they had reached.

The professors, sensing the positive atmosphere, offered smiles of appreciation, their collective tension easing with the assurance of a way forward.

Leandra, known for her diplomatic approach, maintained a composed demeanor, yet her eyes sparkled with satisfaction, recognizing the significance of the High Archon's approval. Professor Modsi, the elder statesman of the group, nodded sagely, his wrinkled face breaking into a small smile, a silent affirmation of the harmony achieved.

Rolav, ever the embodiment of energy and enthusiasm, couldn't contain his excitement, offering a hearty thumbs-up and a wide grin. His fellow professors chuckled at his exuberance, appreciating his genuine joy at the successful outcome.

Finally, the director, Konan, offered a slight bow, a faint smile playing on his lips. His gesture conveyed both respect for the High Archon's presence and satisfaction at the successful conclusion of their discussion. Konan's demeanor reflected his diplomatic nature, characterized by a balance of professionalism and warmth.