The noble wing of the academy was more than just walls and crests. It was carved expectation—polished marble floors, stained-glass windows bearing sigils of the Five High Houses, and chandeliers that never flickered, regardless of wind or mana flux.
Inside one of its larger salons, a dozen chairs circled a central table adorned with fruits, fine cheese, and bottles of chilled spellwine.
And at the head, standing with quiet confidence, was Dior of Valor.
He let the quiet settle before speaking.
"We need a change."
Some of the students raised eyebrows—curious, not concerned.
Dior smiled smoothly.
"Not because something bad is happening. But because the past… changed."
He stepped forward, eyes meeting every heir in the room one by one.
"There was a time when the academy stood for something greater. It was a sanctuary of prestige, where the strongest and most noble were molded into leaders."
He paused—measured, deliberate.
