Half a month later.
Serinburg.
Inside a spacious conference room in the High Tower Institute's administrative building.
Sunlight spilled through the gaps in the blinds, casting bands of light and shadow across the long table. Several professors responsible for reviewing new admissions sat around it, with applicant files spread out before them.
Harold sat by the window, his head lowered over the documents. Beside him, closer to the head of the table, sat Professor Morick. Lean-faced and scholarly, he leisurely arranged his tea set, looking utterly at ease.
The person chairing the meeting was not this director of the High Tower Institute's Special Affairs Department, but a blond, middle-aged man who looked about forty, with a stern face that rarely smiled!
His name was Griffin Nord, the High Tower Institute's dean of academic affairs. A veteran upper-tier Resonance Master, he had even begun crystallizing his mental power, making him one of the Resonance Masters closest to the Weaver level in the Federation.
At that moment, the dean tapped his fingers lightly against the tabletop, producing a rhythmic knocking as his gaze swept over those present.
There were seven people in the conference room. Apart from Harold and Morick, there were two other men and two women, all professors at the institute.
"This year, we have forty-five places for regular admissions."
Griffin spoke first, his voice steady. "All forty-five are young spellcasters who distinguished themselves in this year's Hundred-Strong League. After considering their age, talent, willpower, and experience, we have decided to admit them.
"There are no issues with this list. It requires no further discussion."
Griffin paused, then pushed a stack of files into the middle of the table and continued unhurriedly, "The question lies with the special admissions—"
Griffin turned to a female professor seated to his left, a