Room '33' looked almost exactly as it always had—same wooden beams, same chalk-scuffed floor, and the same chairs arranged in a horseshoe arc around the central training circle.
Yet the air felt heavier now, touched by finality and a strange mix of nostalgia and tension.
As Nolan stepped through the shimmering magical illusion and into the room, the thirteen students stood up in unison, their voices ringing out like a well-rehearsed choir.
"Good day, Teacher Nolan! Did we disturb you to have a special class?"
He glanced at them, his brows raised ever so slightly. "No… not really. I don't have anything to do. So," he paused, letting his eyes scan across each of their faces, "you're all not heading to the City of Murlacks anymore?"
Calien stepped forward, speaking on behalf of the others. "Sir, we're going to a far better academy—an institution in a Fourth Grade Territory. Nearly at the level of a Baron's domain, maybe even a true noble's."
