Chapter 87: Inquisitor
Balzac and Lonard stepped through the massive wooden doors and entered the Grandmaster’s office. The old man sat behind his cracked crystal desk and aggressively rubbed his temples.
The sheer amount of stress radiating from the academy leader instantly put a wide, genuinely happy grin on Balzac’s face.
"What’s wrong?" Balzac asked while casually strolling into the room. "Why do you look so incredibly stressed?"
The Grandmaster snapped his head up and glared at the professor. "Why do you look so happy seeing me suffer?"
Balzac waved a hand toward his companion. "I am simply delighted to reunite with Lonard after such a long time."
The Grandmaster let out an exhausted sigh and dropped his hands onto the desk. "It is Solomon."
"What did he do this time?" Balzac asked, raising an eyebrow.
"He marched straight into the upperclassmen dormitories and punched a second-year student directly in the face," the Grandmaster explained, pulling up a digital incident report on a floating rune. "They have officially arranged a public duel in the House Nova arena."
Balzac tilted his head in genuine confusion. "What is wrong with that? Student duels happen every single day around here."
"Solomon just survived a catastrophic anomaly and requires immediate medical rest," the Grandmaster argued, clearly exasperated by the situation.
Lonard glanced sideways at Balzac to gauge his reaction. Balzac simply shrugged his shoulders in return, completely unbothered by his student’s violent antics.
Lonard stepped forward and folded his hands into his white robes. "Why are you worrying about the boy to such an extreme degree? Minor conflicts and sanctioned duels are perfectly normal occurrences within this academy."
The Grandmaster stared at the smiling priest for a long moment. He then turned his face away to gaze out the balcony windows.
"You wouldn’t understand," the Grandmaster muttered.
Lonard kept his bright smile firmly in place. "You look incredibly displeased with my presence, Grandmaster, and I genuinely have no idea why. Regardless, I have decided not to pry into Solomon’s situation. I will simply report back to the Church that I found absolutely nothing worth investigating."
The Grandmaster stared at the priest in complete shock. He blinked several times, entirely unable to believe his own ears.
Balzac leaned casually against the edge of the crystal desk and crossed his arms. "I somehow managed to convince our guest to drop the matter during our pleasant walk. You definitely need to reward my excellent diplomatic skills with a few months of paid vacation."
"You will get the weekend off," the Grandmaster replied flatly.
Before Balzac could argue for more time, the massive wooden doors to the office violently burst open. A panicked academy staff member rushed into the room.
"Grandmaster!" the staff member gasped, clutching a glowing digital tablet to his chest. "There is a severe emergency at the entrance gates!"
Panic immediately consumed the old man’s features. He shot up from his leather chair and slammed his hands onto the desk. "What happened? Is Solomon alright?"
Balzac groaned loudly. He dragged both hands down his face in pure frustration, utterly exasperated by the old man’s obsession with the first-year student.
"Solomon is perfectly fine, sir," the staff member quickly clarified. "An official Inquisitor from the Church just arrived at the academy."
Total silence fell over the office. Genuine surprise rippled through all three men in the room.
Balzac whirled around and glared directly at Lonard, demanding answers. "Explain this right now."
Lonard raised his hands defensively. The cheerful demeanor completely vanished from his face. "I genuinely know absolutely nothing about this development. The upper echelons of the Church must have sent an actual Inquisitor because they lacked faith in my solo investigation."
Balzac narrowed his eyes and carefully processed the political implications. He let out a bitter sigh. "No. My presence here is probably the real reason they dispatched an Inquisitor."
Balzac’s lazy demeanor vanished entirely. He turned around, his eyes hardening into a deadly glare. "I will handle the Inquisitor."
Lonard immediately stepped into his path and grabbed Balzac by the shoulder. "Stay exactly where you are, Balzac. Do not do anything stupid right now." Lonard turned his attention to the academy leader. "The Grandmaster and I will intercept the Inquisitor."
The Grandmaster nodded in agreement and rushed out of the office with the priest trailing close behind. They quickly navigated the academy grounds and arrived at the towering main gates.
They found the entrance completely empty.
"Where is the Inquisitor?" the Grandmaster demanded, turning to the heavily armored warden guarding the archway.
"The Inquisitor already headed straight toward the dormitories," the warden reported, standing at rigid attention. "I had to let him pass, sir. He possessed all the proper identification and full authorization directly from the Church."
The Grandmaster whirled around and glared violently at Lonard. "Why is absolutely everyone within your Church like this? You constantly act superior and bypass standard protocols. I am the one running this academy. Nothing happens on these grounds without my permission!"
Lonard kept his expression entirely neutral under the furious gaze. "You are already well aware of the legal accords granting Inquisitors full jurisdiction over celestial anomalies."
"Come on," the Grandmaster growled, marching back toward the campus interior.
They rushed toward the House Nova dorm facilities to track down the uninvited guest. As they approached the sprawling gothic courtyard, they immediately noticed a massive crowd of students gathering. Hundreds of teenagers were rushing toward the central combat arena.
The Grandmaster and Lonard followed the flow of the crowd and pushed their way into the spectator stands. Down below, standing on the reinforced stone tiles of the dueling ring, Solomon and Marco were already locked in a tense standoff.
The sanctioned duel was just moments away from beginning.
The old man gripped the stone railing of the spectator stands tight enough to make his knuckles turn entirely white. His eyes darted frantically across the massive sea of cheering teenagers, scanning the shadows and the upper bleachers for any sign of a Church uniform.
’This is the worst possible timing,’ the Grandmaster cursed in his thoughts, his heart hammering against his ribs.
An official, highly-trained Inquisitor could be hiding anywhere within this chaotic crowd. If a fanatic from the Church managed to get anywhere near Solomon, the resulting fallout would be an unmitigated disaster for the entire academy.
Lonard casually rested his forearms on the stone barrier next to the panicked old man. He easily noticed the Grandmaster’s erratic breathing and the sheer terror bleeding into his aura.
"There is no need to worry yourself to death," Lonard reassured him, keeping his tone perfectly even under the roaring noise of the crowd. "From what I experienced firsthand in his dormitory today, Solomon knows exactly how to handle difficult people."
The Grandmaster briefly stopped scanning the crowd to glare at the smiling priest, utterly unconvinced by the sentiment.
"Besides, if the Inquisitor does manage to approach him, Solomon actually needs this kind of exposure," Lonard continued calmly. He directed his gaze down toward the combat ring, where the two students were stepping up to the starting marks. "He cannot hide behind your protective walls forever. He has to experience these hostile encounters to truly understand the unforgiving politics surrounding our worlds."
