A new ‘master’ has been born.
It was a major event capable of causing a tectonic shift in the continent’s power structure. It meant that one more asymmetric force, irreplaceable by any means, with only one per nation, had been added.
Normally, it wouldn’t be strange for the rulers to rack their brains all day over it.
However, for the current Academy, there was no such worry. On the contrary, the snow-covered marble building was even filled with a warmth from the long-awaited hope.
Of course, suspicious gazes still remained.
It wasn’t distrust toward the ‘master,’ but rather doubt about the fact itself that ‘Ian Percus’ had ascended to the seat of a master. In truth, thinking about it commonsensically, it couldn’t be helped.
Even the youngest among the masters, the sword duke, is an old man over seventy, isn’t he.
Compared to that, I’m only in my mid-twenties; even accepting ‘high expert’ somehow, ‘master’ is on a different level. Throughout human history, it’s one of the extremely exceptional cases that…