3: Troublemaker

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At the southern part of the campus was a building twice the size of the Holy Church, each floor up to the highest, which is the fifth, all dedicated to educating the 27 branches of magic. Its seemingly futuristic Palladian style sets it apart from all the other campus facilities.

The knights guarding the porch glanced at the approaching student. Seeing the boy's lavender-coloured uniform, the knights didn't hesitate to let him enter.

Students wearing various shades of purple and a few who wore red, green and blue, walked in pairs or groups, some looked either panicky or are seconds away from fainting. Their hands were either occupied with holding stacks of books or some sort of magic device.

*Baam!

A loud explosion sounded from the room ahead of Ver. Its loud sound made a few students turn and glance around, however, non looked surprised or alarmed.

Ver slowed his pace as he tried to peek inside the room where the explosion originated.

"Dwight you idiot! Why did you incorporate black oak sap with salamander tears?!"

Advanced alchemy. He should have known.

After knowing which class and what caused the explosion, Ver didn't waste a second leaving.

As he walked further into the building, more and more students, mostly upperclassmen, would glare at him as if he were a dangerous criminal.

As he turned to a corner, Ver was immediately greeted by an invisible forcefield. Beyond the forcefield was the courtyard or better known as the testing ground.

As the name states, it is an area where tests, harmless or harmful, are conducted. Famous mages and even a handful of archmages cast and drew powerful defensive magic inside and around the area... however, for the first time since the founding of the academy, the testing ground has been put to a temporary close, due to one bastard.

Still not fixed? The said bastard thought as he tapped the forcefield.

Should he fix it himself?

"What business might you have here, Sinclair?" The familiar calm voice that's filled with hidden rage made Ver flinch.

He turned and met eyes with the 40-year-old Profesor that's surprisingly 6ft in height, with long grey hair with a few strands of white and dark under-eye bags that rival the vice principal's.

"Gasp! Is that you, Profesor Winster?! You look thrice–no ten times as handsome as before! I almost couldn't even recognize you, sir!"

"Why are you here, Sinclair?"
Professor Winster asked as he ignored the nonsense spouted out of his most promising and most troublesome student.

"I felt bored and wanted to stroll around." Ver instantly replied.

Professor Winster raised a brow. He then asked, "Tell me the truth. Why are you here?"

"Eh- well–I wanted to know if they managed to deactivate my magic circle. Since I'm so curious and all–"

"Is that your only reason?"

Ver rubbed the back of his neck as he avoided his mentor's inquiring eyes that seem to always pierce through his acts.

Professor Winster didn't receive an answer for quite some time and was ready to drop his previous question and ask another, but a barely audible voice uttered a word, "Guilty..."

The boy's neck was tinted red, his gaze, which didn't hold its usual lively gleam, constantly shifted directions and the corners of his lips that seems to always be lifted had lowered, forming a straight line. These gestures often indicate deceit, however, for Ver, who is somewhat special, these gestures show his sincerity.

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