Time soon passed, and while Alaric and the others were getting ready for the tournament, Damien still had more errands to run

And his current run led him to a place he had been fearing to go for a while now

The Star-Reach Spire!

It stood in the exact centre of the Academy, a needle of white marble piercing the clouds.

It was said that the Spire was the only thing keeping the floating islands of the Academy tethered to the earth, held in place by the mana of the one who lived at the summit.

Damien stood in the private elevator. The glass walls offered a dizzying view of the campus below.

He saw students rushing to class like ants, Wyverns circling the combat grounds, and the distant glint of the artificial lake.

But Damien wasn't looking enjoying such a view, rather he was looking at his reflection in the glass.

He wore his standard "Mozart" attire: a pristine black tailcoat, a high-collared white shirt, and the silver mask that covered the upper half of his face.

His heart was beating a steady, heavy rhythm against his ribs. He was about to meet a Demi-God.

A being who had transcended humanity. A being who could supposedly see the truth in a man's soul just by looking at him.

'System,' Damien thought, his hands tightening on his cane.

'Are you sure this is safe? If she sees through me... if she sees you? And all my abilities?...'

[System Query: Disguise Integrity.]

[Analyzing Target: Headmistress Astra (Demi-God Mage).]

[Result: It is impossible for any being in this would to deduce the system ]

Seeingg this, Damien exhaled, watching his breath fog the glass.

"Good," he whispered.

"Because if you're wrong, I'm going to file a complaint in the afterlife."

PING.

The elevator slowed. The mana runic display flashed: Floor 100.

Then, the doors slid open with a soft hiss.

Damien stepped out, his cane tapping rhythmically on the floor.

There were no guards. No secretaries. No waiting room.

The entire top floor was a single, massive circular sanctum. The walls were made of enchanted glass, offering a 360-degree view of the Central Continent.

The clouds drifted below the floor level, bathing the room in a soft, ethereal white light.

The room smelled of old paper, ozone, and... tea.

In the center sat a desk carved from the wood of a World Tree. And behind it sat one of the Guardians of the Central Continent and the academy.

Headmistress Astra.

She didn't look like a warrior who had slain Demon Generals during the Great War. She didn't look like a monster who could crush a mountain.

She looked like a grandmother.

She wore a simple grey robe, her silver hair tied up in a messy bun held together by a wooden hairpin.

Reading glasses were perched on her nose as she reviewed a stack of paperwork.

But Damien felt it.

The moment he stepped into the room, the air grew heavy.

The mana in the room was so thick it felt like wading through mercury. It was the passive pressure of a star confined in a jar.

"Ah," Astra said, not looking up from her papers. Her voice was soft, but it carried across the massive room without echoing.

"Professor Mozart. Or do you prefer 'The Piano Man'?"

Damien walked forward, stopping exactly ten paces from the desk. He bowed deeply, a perfect aristocratic salute.

"Mozart is fine, Headmistress. Thank you for granting me an audience."

Astra finally looked up.

Her eyes were not human. They were swirling nebulas of gold and blue, shifting like the tides of a galaxy.

When those eyes locked onto him, Damien felt the System barrier around his soul tremble, but it held.

She smiled. It was a warm, crinkly smile that didn't match the terrifying power radiating from her.

"I have been wanting to meet you," Astra said.

"I have your record on vinyl. 'The Moonlight Sonata.'"

She gestured to the corner of the room.

There, was a strane mana crystal in the back ground, from it s soft, melancholic piano melody filled the silence of the sanctum.

It was Damien's own recording, a piece he had released under the Mozart alias to build his cover identity.

"It is quite... tragic," Astra mused, taking a sip of tea.

"Most mages play music like they cast spells. loud, flashy, and desperate for attention. But you..."

She tapped her finger on the desk in time with the melody.

"You understand the silence between the notes. That is rare."

Damien leaned on his cane, forcing his shoulders to remain relaxed.

"Music brings order to chaos, Headmistress," Damien recited his prepared line smoothly.

"Just like teaching."

"Is that so?"

Astra stood up. She was short, barely reaching Damien's chest, but she felt ten feet tall.

She walked to the window, looking down at the Academy grounds far below.

"Speaking of chaos... I read your report on the Class F field trip."

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly.

The warm scent of tea vanished, replaced by the sharp tang of a thunderstorm. The music from the gramophone seemed to slow down, warped by the sudden spike in mana pressure.

Damien stiffened. Here it comes.

"Yes," Damien said, keeping his voice steady. "The trip to Sector 1."

"A fascinating read," Astra said, her back turned to him.

"According to your report, you took five students into the Crimson Jungle. You encountered a Mutated Swamp Hydra, a Tier 3 beast."

She turned around. Her nebula eyes were no longer smiling.

"You also claim the students were poisoned by toxic swamp gas, which caused severe hallucinations. "

"Hallucinations about a hidden laboratory. About monsters in tanks. About a rift in the earth."

She took a step forward. The floorboards didn't creak; they groaned.

"That is a very creative explanation, Professor. It ties up every loose end. It explains their injuries."

" It explains the trauma. It explains why they came back looking like soldiers instead of students."

She stopped right in front of him.

"It is almost too perfect."

Damien held her gaze. The pressure was immense. His knees wanted to buckle. His instincts screamed at him to run, to draw a weapon, to do something.

But he remained still, deciding to trust in the system this one time.

"I wrote what happened, Headmistress," Damien lied, his voice cool and detached.

"The jungle is a dangerous place. The gas affects the mind. I merely guided them through the fog."

Astra studied him. She looked for a crack in the mask. She looked for a flinch.

The silence stretched for ten seconds. Twenty.

Then, she laughed.

It was a light, tinkling sound, like a wind chime. The terrifying pressure vanished instantly.

"You protected your student very well," Astra said, walking back to her desk. "I like that."

She sat down and picked up her tea.

"Too many teachers treat students like numbers. Or pawns in their polictial agendas. You treat them like... people."

She waved her hand dismissively.

"I accept your report, Professor. There will be no investigation. No quarantine. Your students are safe."

Damien let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Thank you, Headmistress."

"I am glad you joined us, Mozart," Astra said softly.

"The Academy has been too quiet lately. We needed a new melody."

"I am happy to provide it," Damien replied.

"However," Astra's voice dropped an octave. The smile remained, but her eyes grew distant, looking past him.

"Do not think that because the music is pretty, I do not hear the drums of war beneath it."

Damien froze.

"Headmistress?"

Astra gestured to the chair opposite her.

"Sit, Professor. The pleasantries are over. Let us talk about the 'Swamp Gas.' And the things that are actually hiding in the dark."

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