A week passed with nothing but Julius-ball.
To think of such a genius game, Julius truly deserved more credit.
One final conference was held to dictate the headmaster's fate.
The grand hall of Ruloy Academy was filled with the sharp murmur of voices—the elite of the continent, parents, and high-profile investors gathered in frustration. The air crackled with discontent, their eyes locked on the stage where Aldric, the headmaster, stood grim-faced.
At the center of it all was one undeniable truth—Savel had left. And that, in their eyes, was Aldric's failure.
A man in regal military uniform, Duke Corvan, stood first, slamming his fist on the table.
"You are supposed to be the guiding force of this academy, Aldric, yet you let its brightest talent slip away? Do you have any idea how much we invested in his future? Do you have any idea how much he was worth to this institution?"
"It's disgraceful." Duke Yulestroth added.
Others followed in an uproar, voices overlapping in fury.
