Magus Supremacy

ONE WEEK LATER!

Just as Instructor Kent said, a full week had passed, and throughout the students' combat classes, they had been repeating the same two steps over and over again. Now, more than half of the yellow band were able to execute these steps effortlessly, including Finral.

Meanwhile, the remaining half, along with the entire blue band, still struggled to advance past the first stage into the second. They could perform the first step with relative ease now, but the second stage continued to challenge them.

Today was a weekend—a day of partial rest for the students. The "rest" was only partial because they were required to spend half the day in the school library, familiarizing themselves with the numerous fighting techniques in existence.

Weapons, martial arts, styles, and more.

Once a student identified a technique that intrigued them, they would be assigned a specialized instructor to teach everything they needed to master it.

Students of all bands—red, yellow, and blue could now be seen navigating the endless shelves, each one towering sky-high, filled with countless tomes.

The Aetherian Academy Library was a towering sanctuary of silence and secrets, easily the oldest and most arcane structure in the entire academy.

Nestled deep within the first-year students' building, its ancient stone walls were etched with silver veins that glowed faintly.

The library was more than just a place of knowledge, it was a relic of eras long forgotten, a testament to centuries of scholarship.

The entrance alone was a marvel: two towering oak doors engraved with runes in dozens of lost languages. As they creaked open, a low hum echoed from within, like the whisper of countless voices bound to parchment, waiting to be heard again.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ink, aged paper, and candle wax. Bookcases rose like monoliths, stretching toward a vaulted ceiling enchanted to reflect the current sky.

Floating crystal orbs hovered above the aisles, casting soft light that danced across the shelves.

Silence was not merely expected, it was enforced. Librarians moved so quietly through the aisles that students often could not tell where they came from or how they appeared.

Any student caught whispering too loudly or mishandling a book would find themselves frozen in place, immobilized by strange magical wards.

The library was more than a resource; it was a proving ground for the mind. In Aetherian Academy, even those who mastered sword and spell needed to conquer thought, and this was where they came to do it.

"So… what technique are you aiming to learn?" Finral asked Ray, who continued flipping through books and scanning pages with sharp focus.

"Hopefully something that includes hand-to-hand martial arts," Ray muttered, not looking up as he skimmed yet another volume. Then he suddenly paused. "Wait! Where is Grey?"

"No idea," Finral whispered. "Most of the time, he's always with that Pink guy. Honestly, I don't care either." He continued browsing the shelves, his hands settling on two tomes about sword techniques.

"I hope he doesn't run into any of those descendants," Ray muttered, suddenly feeling heavy breathing close to his neck. Something solid brushed against his back, and his eyes widened in alarm.

"Don't worry. He won't encounter us, because I came looking for you instead," a voice whispered behind him. Ray spun around quickly to see Rivock, a descendant who always wore a chilling smile, his gaze unsettling.

"Calm down. I'm not here to fight, handsome. I just want to speak with you."

"That's so cringe." Ray said, his deep frown emphasizing his disgust. "Don't make me puke."

"What do you want?" Finral asked, his scowl deepening.

"Certainly not you. I just want to speak with him privately," Rivock replied, a small, unsettling smile playing on his lips.

"Oh! Like the time you wanted to speak with Grey privately and he was nowhere to be seen?" Ray asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That time was different. Your case is going to be different. And I guarantee, if you come with me, no one will be able to touch you," Rivock said, licking his lips seductively.

"Forget it. I'm not coming." Ray waved his hand, ready to turn away, but a tight grip on his shoulder froze him.

"Do not make me angry. Everybody knows not to make me angry because I myself do not know what I will do if I do get angry," Rivock whispered, his low growl causing Ray to gulp loudly.

"Fine. I will come with you," Ray replied reluctantly.

"Wait! Wh..."

"Shuush! Do not make noise. That is the library policy. We will return," Rivock said sharply, cutting Finral off before turning to leave, signaling for Ray to follow.

"Damn it! I wonder what is happening," Finral muttered, irritation crossing his face. He returned to searching the shelves, glancing around for Grey.

Meanwhile, in another section, Grey scanned the shelves without stopping. He glanced at book titles, his eyes moving swiftly from one tome to the next, not even touching them.

'All these techniques and skills are practically useless to me right now. I need information on the founder of this academy. Why is there nothing here?' Grey thought, frustration building as he searched endlessly.

"Is there anything specific you are looking for?" a voice whispered behind him, making Grey's heart jump. His eyes widened.

'Who is there? I didn't sense them coming. I didn't hear footsteps. Damn it!' Grey cautiously turned to see a middle-aged man. One arm was missing, and his black eyes were sharp and intimidating.

'He must be the librarian,' Grey thought.

"I will ask again. Are you looking for anything specific?" the man repeated. Grey swallowed hard.

'If anyone knows about the founder, it has to be the librarian. He must be old, though warriors often do not appear their age thanks to Ki. There's no harm in asking,' Grey thought.

"Actually, I am looking for information on the founder of the academy. Who he was, what he did, why he created the academy, and where he is now," Grey said carefully, studying the librarian for any sign of nervousness. There was none.

"Why?" the librarian asked, raising a brow. "This library is for learning techniques and discovering styles suited for you. How would that information help in fighting?"

"No, they won't. I am just curious. I need to know who the great figure was that created this academy and faction," Grey replied, forcing a smile.

"Well… that information is not here. And you won't find it here. To learn that, you must either become the principal of this academy—meaning the leader of the Aetherian faction or go to the Noxarian faction. Forget those questions and focus on finding a fighting style that suits you," the librarian said, and as quickly as he appeared, he vanished.

'Become the leader of the Aetherian faction, huh?' Grey thought, frowning. 'That is my long-term goal, but if I must wait until then to relearn magic, I won't survive the next attack by these descendants. That leaves me with only one option.' He glanced up at the ceiling and allowed a small smile to spread across his face.

'I guess it's time I pay the Noxarian faction a visit.'