Magus Supremacy

A few minutes later, the trio could be seen stepping into the canteen, and the sheer size of the space hit them first. It wasn't just a room, it was a colossal, dome-ceilinged hall, alive with motion and sound, saturated with the overwhelming mix of food scents, voices, and clattering utensils.

Rows upon rows of long, rune-etched stone tables stretched across the marble floor, sectioned off by color-coded banners hanging from the rafters above—blue, yellow, and red clearly designating each band's eating area.

The ceiling soared high, carved from polished obsidian and inlaid with faintly glowing veins of blue crystal that pulsed like a heartbeat. The faint shimmer gave the entire hall a dim, magical glow, as though the very air carried the residue of enchantments.

Despite its vast size, the atmosphere felt strangely close, the warmth of cooked meals mixing with the heat of hundreds of bodies. Students talked, argued, laughed, or chewed quietly in silence. The sound was a constant hum, one that carried its own strange rhythm.

At the far end of the hall stood a massive serving counter framed by rotating enchantments, each shimmer spelling out the day's rations and special meals in glowing letters.

The blue bands were crammed together at the narrowest section of the hall. Their tables were older and chipped, many wobbling with uneven legs. Their food portions were meager—mostly boiled roots, stale bread, and weak broth.

A quick glance at their faces showed clear disdain. They ate without joy, some chewing reluctantly, others staring at their bowls with quiet resentment. Many of them looked malnourished, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes gleaming with silent hunger.

Grey's eyes quickly caught Thalos among them. Sitting at one of the blue band tables, Thalos devoured everything on his plate without a single complaint, as if nothing about the portion or the poor quality of the food bothered him.

Their eyes met briefly. A small nod was exchanged, followed by a short smile before Grey looked away, guiding his steps toward the yellow band section.

The yellow band section had slightly better tables—polished, sturdier, though still plain in design. The smell of the food here was stronger, more inviting: roasted meats, steamed grains, and seasoned vegetables.

Yet the portions remained unimpressive. If the blue bands had no meat at all, the yellow bands would at least get a piece, but it was often laughably small, perhaps the thin arm of a chicken.

Meanwhile, the red bands were said to feast like royalty, with their plates piled high with rich servings. Where yellow bands got scraps, the reds dined on entire turkeys, their meals dripping with abundance.

The red band section dominated the room's atmosphere. Positioned closest to a floating balcony that overlooked the canteen, they sat at shorter circular tables carved from silver-veined wood.

Each one was lit by suspended crystals that shifted colors according to mood and energy, casting an ever-changing glow.

Their meals were extravagant: plates stacked with seasoned beast meat, exotic fruits, fresh pastries still steaming from the ovens, and glowing potions poured into crystal goblets.

The air above them almost smelled different richer even, more decadent as though even the space they occupied was elevated.

Fights weren't uncommon, especially near the edges where blue and yellow bands brushed shoulders in cramped frustration. But whenever things grew too heated, sudden beams of light would descend from the ceiling, paralyzing the instigators until instructors arrived.

At least, that was the explanation given to the students. None of them truly knew what powered the beams or who activated them.

The canteen wasn't merely a place to eat—it looked more like a battlefield of status, strength, and silent competition. For Grey, it became instantly clear: this was yet another arena he would one day rise to conquer.

He was about to walk into the yellow band section with his friends when the door to the canteen opened with a sharp creak. Three figures entered, and instantly the hall shifted. Conversations hushed, spoons paused midair, and every gaze turned toward them.

They carried an aura of sheer authority.

The first was a tall boy, towering at about six feet eight, lean yet athletic, with arms crossed loosely over his chest. His mouth curled into a sly, devilish smile, as if he already knew the outcome of every confrontation before it began.

The second boy was much shorter, standing at about five foot two. His face was locked into a scowl, his dark hair spilling slightly over his eyes. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, he walked with the restless air of someone constantly on edge, his disdainful look daring anyone to come close.

Then there was the girl. Her beauty was undeniable, her silver hair cascading like liquid light down her back. Yet her expression was harder than steel, her frown deeper than both boys' combined.

Her ice-blue eyes swept across the hall with a cold, cutting intensity that made the air itself feel like frost. Students she looked at shivered involuntarily, as though her gaze alone drained the warmth from them.

These three were the direct descendants of the most powerful clans that controlled the Aetherian faction. Their presence explained everything—the silence, the awe, even the tension simmering through the hall.

In truth, the red band section itself was already made up of heirs from respected clans. But these three stood above even that—they were the pinnacle. The direct descendants.

As they walked in, Grey could feel his fists clenching tightly, his knuckles pressing hard against his skin.

A small scowl crossed his face as he glared at the trio walking over, his eyes narrowing with sharp intensity that seemed to weigh on the air around him.

Feeling a sudden, oppressive aura emanating from a certain direction, Mada turned instinctively. His gaze landed squarely on Grey.

Immediately, his eyes widened in shock, and dread washed over him like a crashing wave. His body stiffened, and his throat tightened as he stared for a little longer, as if his mind couldn't reconcile what he was seeing.

"G…g…g…ghost?" Mada muttered beneath his breath. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples, cascading slowly as his hands trembled while his eyes remained locked on Grey.

"What was that?" Rivock asked, his tone sharp. Mada shakily raised a finger, pointing towards Grey, while Noelle turned her head and traced the direction the young descendant indicated.

"Huh? He is alive?" Rivock whispered, his voice carrying a strange mix of relief and curiosity.

A slight thump echoed in his chest, but it quickly settled down, replaced by a faint, crooked smile tugging at his lips as his gaze lingered on Grey.

'I knew there was something about him… he really is a special one. Now, more than ever, I want to fight him and test his limits for myself.

But no—my eyes are already set on someone else.' Rivock thought, his grin widening as his attention slid from Grey to Ray.

'I swear I'll gouge this pervert's eyes out!' Ray thought darkly, his hands tightening into fists until his nails dug into his palms, his anger barely contained.

"What happened? You shocked?" Grey asked suddenly, his voice carrying clear confidence as he wore a wide grin. His words cut across the room like a blade, and the chatter in the canteen immediately died down.

All eyes turned toward the speaker. Grey raised his chin slightly, his tone playful. "I'm not a ghost, I'm very much alive. Although…" He chuckled loudly, his laughter echoing in the silent hall. "Although it would have been fun to be a ghost. I would have been able to haunt you all."

"How dare you speak to us like that?!" Mada growled, his face twisting in anger, his fists clenched so tight his veins bulged across his hands. His glare burned hotly at Grey, brimming with hostility.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"What does that peasant think he's doing?"

"Doesn't he know who those three are?"

"Peasants never know their place."

"Oh well, this will be quick."

Mada sneered and took a step forward, his tone harsh and commanding. "What did I tell you to do that day? Leave and never come back. So what the hell are you doing in this academy?" He made to advance further, but his shoulder was suddenly gripped firmly by Rivock, who shook his head in warning.

"Tch!" Grey smirked, shaking his head slightly. "I couldn't leave yet. I still need to teach some spoiled brats a lesson." His eyes gleamed dangerously as he stared at the trio, his grin widening.

"He does have a sharp tongue," Noelle muttered under her breath, her gaze narrowing as she studied Grey more closely.

"That does it!" Mada snarled, fury consuming him. He shoved Rivock's hand off his shoulder, his aura flaring violently. Then, in a sudden burst of speed, he dashed forward, his figure blurring as he rushed straight at Grey.

"Kek! Big mistake." Grey smirked, his eyes flashing with anticipation as he tracked the descendant's movement, watching as Mada appeared right in front of him in the blink of an eye.