We exited the room and began walking through a large hallway decorated by a luxurious red carpet and spotless large windows spaced out in even intervals. The sun was still high in the air, easily bathing the area in light, rendering the unlit candles along the walls superfluous. Upon further inspection, I realized that all of the candles were in pristine condition as if they’d never seen use, which seemed to have something to do with the spells that’d been embedded into each of them.
“Whose primitive spell work is this?” I asked, pointing at the candles.
“‘Primitive’?” She genuinely looked confused. “I guess it’s on the more basic side, but it’s the spell work of the previous headmaster.”
I scoffed. “These are delayed spells. If this inefficient mess is the handiwork of a headmaster of this academy, then I fear for this realm and every student here. They’re what third-rate mages use to play mind games with their opponents.”
“It’s called ‘strategy,’” the human sighed. “By delaying the activation of spells and using them at unpredictable times, you can catch your opponent off guard and take control of the battle.”
I scoffed. “Typical third-rate mage mindset. Having to resort to such childish mind games simply means you lack the firepower in the first place to overpower your enemies and thus have to resort to cheap tricks to secure victory. The truly strong only need to cast powerful spells. After all, the straightforward path is always the best.”
“For the record, the previous headmaster is one of, if not, the most powerful Guardians in our order—and also my master.”
“How appropriate that one of the most powerful Guardians is a third-rate mage.”
The human rolled her eyes at my apt statement. “Anyway, we don’t have time to stop and look at the school right now. We’re almost there, so let’s just keep walking. We really don’t want to be late.”
“You’re certainly nervous. I wonder what manner of student this president could be to encourage a mighty Guardian like yourself—a master of the all-powerful delayed spells—to be so punctual,” I mused. “I can only imagine the depths of their powers.”
The human didn’t seem to enjoy my comment and made a sour expression. “Sheesh, I get it. I know exactly how you feel about my order, but the student council president is really not someone you want to mess with. Take my advice: just show some respect. That’s all I’m asking. It’s for your own good. Seriously.”
“Allow me to give you some advice: When you’re decisively at the top of the food chain, you bow to no one, especially not some child.”
The human let out a deep exhale and shrugged. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. We’re here.”
We came to a halt in front of a pair of large, ornate wooden doors with golden handles. Above the door frame was a placard that read “Student Council President Room.” Though, even without it, the aura seeping through the doors was more than enough to convey the existence of something or somebody important behind them.
The human knocked on the door twice, and after a short pause, a cool voice rang out in response. “Enter.”
The doors creaked as they opened, revealing a large dark space and a pair of vermilion eyes in the depths of it. A chill ran up my spine as I peered inside. My instincts were telling me that whoever they were, they’d be able to put up a real fight even if I was at full strength.
In the next moment, floating candles ignited from the front of the room to the back, illuminating rows of bookcases on either side of the room and a large desk at the end of it.
Sitting behind the desk was a seemingly normal girl with vermilion eyes, pale skin, and long, straight black hair. Though she wore the same uniform as the human and me, there were four discernible differences: One was that though the human and I both had red ties on, hers was green. Draped over her shoulders was also a black cape held in place by a golden clasp. Third, there was some kind of a gold badge pinned on her chest; judging by the inscription, it was meant to signify her status as the student council president. But the biggest difference was her smell. She wasn’t human, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what manner of creature she was.
“Welcome.” She smiled politely at me. “Thank you for bringing the new student on time, Karen.”
“Of course. It’s not a problem at all,” the human said, bowing slightly.
“By the way,” the nonhuman girl started, an amused smile on her face, “do you still need a lead?”
“Huh? For what?” said the human.
“The dog you’ve wanted.”
“I-It’s okay. I don’t think there are any breeders in the area anyway, and I’m not interested in chimeras.”
“Chimeras?” The nonhuman girl tilted her head curiously before deciding against chasing down that thought. “At any rate, by ‘lead,’ I wasn’t referring to a clue but a leash.”
“O-Oh, no. I’m perfectly fine! Thank you though! I’ve been thinking about giving up on that dream, to be honest. A dog at school isn’t really a good idea anyway!”
“Is that so? Well, let me know if you change your mind. You never know when a leash may come in handy.”
The human visibly began to panic, flashing me a worried—no, a fearful expression. Humph. Finally come to fear me as you properly should?
All should fear elder dragons, as was the natural order. The only one I’d encountered who hadn’t was the Blade Saint. I could still occasionally feel the blade in my throat. The wound should’ve healed by now, but... I started reaching toward my neck, but the human began panicking.