The meeting happened two hours after the demonstration.
Draven sat in Headmaster Orenthil's office. Massive room. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, ancient artifacts floating in containment fields, a desk that looked like it weighed more than a horse.
The Headmaster himself was old. Like, legitimately ancient. Silver beard down to his chest, robes that probably cost more than a small house, and SS-Rank mana signature that made the air feel heavy just being near him.
He hadn't said anything for five minutes. Just stared at Draven with eyes that had seen too much.
*Tick. Tick. Tick.* Clock on the wall.
Elara sat next to Draven. Still in her Holy Maiden robes. Hands folded in her lap. Perfectly composed on the outside.
Through the bond Draven felt her anxiety. Sharp. Cutting.
"Well," Orenthil said finally. His voice sounded like grinding stone. "That was spectacularly stupid."
Draven didn't answer. What was there to say?
