Chapter 949: Part 1: Meeting Dean Chapter 949: Part 1: Meeting Dean From MC’s Perspective: The 300 warriors stood in a tense formation, awaiting the signal to begin their journey toward the Trial.
Their faces were a mix of determination and anxiety, each one knowing what was at stake.
Among them, I felt the weight of anticipation heavier than most.
“Zack, you come with me,” Elder Clinton’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, echoing across the training grounds.
His words startled everyone, especially Vernon, the towering, battle-hardened warrior standing nearby.
His eyes widened in surprise as he turned to assess me, curiosity etched across his face.
Vernon, massive and formidable, furrowed his brow.
He tried to probe my strength, but his gaze faltered when it collided with the protective magic of the silver ring on my finger, obscuring his ability to see through my aura.
“Who is this young man?” he muttered under his breath, frustration evident.
To be singled out by Elder Clinton was no small matter.
“Yes, Elder,” I responded quickly, keeping my voice calm despite the growing tension.
Without hesitation, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us.
Clinton, unflappable as ever, turned to Vernon.
“Vernon, take the others to the Trial.
I’ll be taking Zack to meet the higher-ups,” he said, his tone leaving no room for questions.
Vernon, though still intrigued, nodded obediently.
He glanced at me one last time, his eyes burning with curiosity.
He wanted to know who I was and why I was chosen, but duty called, and there was no time for speculation.
“Understood, Elder,” he said, his voice firm.
He turned back to the group, masking his thoughts behind a stoic expression.
The 300 warriors murmured amongst themselves, casting envious glances my way.
Their eyes flickered with a mix of awe and jealousy, knowing that being handpicked by Elder Clinton was a sign of something significant.
They whispered in hushed tones, knowing that Zack Lockwood, the seemingly unknown figure among them, was destined to rise above the rest.
But the Trial awaited them all, and now, their focus had to shift back to survival.
Vernon, sensing the unease, addressed the warriors.
“I don’t know who the young man is, but it’s clear he’s special.
Still, your priority should be the Trial.
Fail, and you’ll return to the inner post, stripped of rank.
Succeed, and you might carve your own path.” His voice carried a heavy weight, reminding them that the only way forward was to prove themselves.
With that, he let out a sigh, turning to lead the group to their fate.
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Meanwhile, my own journey was about to take a drastic turn.
Elder Clinton placed a firm hand on my shoulder, and before I could register what was happening, the world around me shifted violently.
Everything blurred, colors and shapes swirling in a disorienting whirlwind.
Swoosh!
Sally, the ever-watchful observer, trailed closely behind us.
Her eyes glinted with the same curiosity Vernon had shown.
It wasn’t every day that someone like him was chosen by the Academy’s upper echelon, and she was eager to see who would take him as their disciple.
She knew that once word spread about this moment, it would ripple through the Academy like a shockwave.
A few seconds later, the blur subsided, and the world snapped back into focus.
I found myself standing in the center of an enormous hall, its towering ceilings and expansive walls stretching out in all directions.
The stone floors beneath me gleamed in the soft glow of enchanted lights, giving the place an eerie, mystical quality.
I instinctively swept my gaze around the room, expecting to see some of the Academy’s most powerful figures.
Yet, to my surprise, the hall was empty completely devoid of life.
Not a soul in sight.
Elder Clinton and Sally stood beside me, their expressions unreadable.
The silence was thick, almost oppressive.
Why had we been brought here?
What was the significance of this vast, empty hall?
And who were we waiting for?
The anticipation gnawed at me, but I kept my composure.
Something big was about to happen, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me.
Just as I was lost in thought, trying to make sense of the vast emptiness of the hall, Clinton’s voice cut through the silence, startling me.
“Dean, we’ve brought a special seed from the inner post region,” he announced, his tone formal yet confident.
“A warrior of triple element: Lightning, Blood, and Healing.
He’s less than 20 years old.” My breath caught in my throat.
He was talking about me.
I quickly turned toward Clinton, confusion swirling in my mind.
But what really threw me off was that he wasn’t speaking to me or Sally he was addressing the empty main throne at the far end of the hall.
A sense of unease washed over me as I tried to process what was happening.
Sally, standing beside me, wore an expression far different from her usual composed demeanor.
Her face was solemn, her posture respectful, as if she were in the presence of someone or something far greater than I could understand.
“What is happening right now?” I asked myself, my heart pounding.
The air felt heavy with anticipation, like the calm before a storm.
Then, without warning- Boom!
A brilliant white light erupted from the main throne, bathing the hall in a blinding glow.
My eyes instinctively squinted against the sudden flash, and my pulse raced as a deep, resonant voice echoed from within the light.
“A special seed,” the voice rumbled, each word vibrating through the room with an authority that sent shivers down my spine.
“It’s not rare for us to encounter a special seed.” The voice was so powerful, so commanding, that I could feel it in my bones.
It was as though the very hall trembled in response.
My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a surge of fear so intense that I nearly lost control of myself.
For a brief, terrifying moment, I thought I might actually faint.
But then, through the haze of panic, I glanced over at Clinton and Sally.
To my surprise, neither of them seemed fazed.
Clinton stood tall, his expression steady and unshaken, while Sally maintained her serious demeanor.
They had expected this.
The realization hit me hard: whatever or whoever that voice belonged to, it was something they knew well.
I, on the other hand, was entirely out of my depth.
“Dean, we recruited him from the inner post region,” Clinton continued, his voice unwavering.
“But this young kid was originally born in the outer post region.
It was only later that someone from the inner post region took him under their wing.”.
The white light surrounding the throne pulsed again, as if in contemplation.
I could feel the weight of the Dean’s attention shift toward me, as though I were being scrutinized by something far greater than myself.
It was an unsettling feeling, like having your soul laid bare under an intense, all-seeing gaze.
I stood there, frozen, trying to steady my breathing.
Whatever was about to happen, I knew it would change my life forever.
“What, he’s born in that forgotten area?” a voice, thick with surprise, echoed through the vast hall.
It was the same deep voice that had spoken from the throne, but now it carried a sharper tone of curiosity and disbelief.
Suddenly, before I could fully grasp what was happening, a spectral figure materialized in the main throne.
It was the phantom of an old man, perhaps in his sixties, his form slightly translucent but exuding an aura of immense power.
His long silver hair cascaded over a robe adorned with arcane symbols, and his eyes sharp and piercing radiated wisdom beyond centuries.
…
The moment his gaze landed on me, I felt a cold rush sweep through my body, like I was standing naked before a fierce storm.
There was no hiding, no shielding.
Everything about me-my strengths, my weaknesses, my very essence was laid bare under his eyes.
I could feel his gaze probing deep into my soul, unearthing the secrets I had barely begun to understand myself.
In an instant, the old man saw through everything: the raging purple lightning element that crackled within him, the mysterious blood element pulsing with raw, ancient power, and the soothing, regenerative healing element that hummed quietly beneath it all.
Each of these elements was incredibly rare on its own, but for them to coexist in a single person it was unheard of.
I could feel his scrutiny intensify as he continued to probe deeper, verifying every detail with the precision of a master examiner.
His eyes flickered with a strange light as he assessed the interplay of my elements, his expression unreadable yet focused.
Then, finally, a glimmer of approval crossed his face.
“Good,” the old man uttered, his voice softer now but filled with satisfaction.
The weight of that single word struck me like a lightning bolt, as if the entire world had shifted beneath my feet.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
His eyes narrowed, and I could feel him extending his focus further past my elements, deep into my bones.
I stiffened, unsure of what he was doing, but then I realized he was checking my bone age.
“Less than 20 years old,” he muttered under his breath, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
The revelation clearly shocked him, even though he had undoubtedly encountered countless prodigies in his lifetime.
The young man’s bone age, combined with the sheer power of my three elements, was something beyond rare it bordered on the impossible.
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