As something eventful was unfolding in the Land of Origin, something equally significant was taking place back in Aurora.
Right now, in one of the academy's buildings, three students sat before a familiar figure: Michael, Rynne, and another of their classmates.
In front of them sat Director Arven.
They were in his office, and Michael had to admit, the director wasn't only colorful in identity but also in his surroundings.
The room looked less like an office and more like a chaotic blend of everything imaginable. Papers, books, and half-open files lay stacked in uneven piles on every available surface.
The walls were painted in mismatched tones, pale blue on one side and crimson on the other, as if the painter had lost interest halfway through. Several unframed paintings hung crookedly, and none seemed to belong together; one was a portrait of a noblewoman, another a landscape of a barren desert, and another looked like a child's messy attempt at abstract art.
