The grand conference hall of the academy was an imposing structure—its high, arched ceilings carved with intricate reliefs of past champions and scholars, illuminated by floating mana crystals that pulsed softly in the dim room. The circular table at the center was made of dark, polished wood, etched with the sigils of the academy's various disciplines. At this moment, seated around it were the most influential figures of the institution, each representing a vital aspect of education and governance within the academy.
At the head of the table sat Valdris, the Academy Head, a man whose presence alone could silence a hall filled with nobles. His piercing gaze swept across those present, waiting for their insights before making the final decision. To his right, Alaric Vermund, the Head of Material Studies, adjusted his monocle as he tapped his fingers against the table, his mind undoubtedly weighing the impact of Kalem's weapon. Beside him, Sylvia Moreau, the Alchemy Head, sat with her arms crossed, deep in thought. The Beast Studies representative, an elven woman named Vaelis Thornbloom, idly scratched notes onto a parchment, occasionally glancing up as if considering something unsaid.
To the left of Valdris sat the more rigid figures—Professor Gregor, a dwarven scholar in charge of Spells, leaned forward, his heavy brows furrowed in discontent, while the Medical Department's head, Madam Lysara, examined her notes with a grim expression. At the far end of the table, the Species Studies Head, a draconian named Xel'thar, exhaled slowly, his reptilian features unreadable, while the ever-analytical Professor Baudric, the History Chair, observed everyone in silence, waiting to see where the discussion would lead. The last seat belonged to Master Rourke, the supervisor of the optional-combat sparring, a grizzled veteran with scars across his knuckles, proof of a lifetime of battle.
The topic at hand was clear: the final match of the tournament had ended in chaos. Now, a decision had to be made.
Valdris folded his hands together. "We all saw the conclusion of the duel between Kalem and Isolde. Before we decide on the official ruling, let's go over the concerns."
Gregor was the first to speak. "That was no ordinary duel. The amount of mana expenditure alone should be considered reckless! Isolde's sword nearly destabilized, and Kalem's weapon is a complete anomaly—one I would very much like to examine personally."
Alaric pushed his glasses up, nodding. "Yes, I must agree. Kalem's weapon is of particular interest to me. I observed the resonance patterns within its structure, and if I'm correct, it is utilizing principles I have never seen applied in such a way before. If permitted, I'd like access to its schematics."
Sylvia smirked. "I highly doubt Kalem will simply hand over his research, especially when it gives him such an advantage."
Vaelis leaned forward. "The more pressing issue is the aftermath. The battlefield itself is now a hazardous zone. The combination of Isolde's unstable frost magic and Kalem's weapon's energy output created an environment where even seasoned combatants would struggle to fight. That in itself raises concerns about allowing such techniques in student tournaments."
Madam Lysara finally spoke, her voice cool and professional. "Both combatants suffered injuries beyond what we normally tolerate in matches of this nature. Isolde's body nearly went into mana exhaustion shock, and Kalem's internal injuries—while seemingly not severe—are indicative of excessive strain. If we continue to allow battles of this level, we may need to reevaluate our medical preparedness."
Xel'thar, the draconian, tapped a clawed finger against the table. "Yet, despite all this, it was a fair fight. Both combatants adhered to the rules. And despite the dangers, neither intentionally aimed to kill. If anything, this match proves how far human warriors have come." His golden eyes flickered toward Gregor. "And how unpredictable combat can be, no matter how much we try to control it."
Master Rourke grunted. "Aye. That's the truth of it. I've fought in real wars. What I saw today wasn't just a duel—it was the clash of two fighters pushing their limits. That's exactly what this tournament is for."
Valdris let out a slow breath before turning to Baudric. "You've been quiet. What is your perspective on this?"
The historian steepled his fingers. "This is a defining moment. Kalem has demonstrated a level of skill and ingenuity that will be remembered for years, but Isolde's magic has also set a precedent. This isn't just about a tournament; this is about what comes next. If we do not acknowledge the significance of their battle properly, then we risk downplaying the very future of combat itself."
Valdris nodded before addressing the room. "Then it is clear. We are at an impasse. The match, while extraordinary, ended with both fighters unconscious. Given the circumstances, awarding a single victor may not be suitable. I propose an alternative. We consider this a draw and evaluate the prize distribution accordingly."
Murmurs filled the hall. Some were in agreement, others less so.
"And as for Kalem's weapon?" Alaric asked.
Valdris's eyes narrowed. "It remains his. However, I will have a conversation with him about its implications."
Xel'thar let out a low chuckle. "This student of yours is making waves beyond what most expected. You should keep a close eye on him, Headmaster."
Valdris gave a rare smile. "I already do."
With that, the meeting was adjourned.