Ancestral Lineage

Chapter 125 Last Meeting and Forming of Teams.

The early morning sun filtered through the high windows of Anbord Mage Academy's central hall, streaking golden light across the polished marble floors. Ethan leaned on the stone balcony, sharp crimson eyes observing the chaos below. The vast training grounds were alive with second years, all clad in their academy-issued tracksuits—black with sleek, blue designs. It was a day of excitement, chatter, and buzzing energy as students prepared for their outing to the Labyrinth Grove.

From above, they looked like scattered ants. Fifteen hundred students. Thirteen teams. Ethan sighed, rolling his shoulders. He knew this outing wasn't a war, but with such large numbers under his care, the pressure of responsibility weighed on him.

The door behind him creaked open. "You've been out here long enough. Stop stressing and come inside."

Ethan turned, unsurprised to see Clara standing in the doorway. Her silvery-blonde hair fell softly around her shoulders, bangs brushing the bright blue hues of her eyes. Despite her composed demeanor, the faint twitch of her lips gave her away.

"Brooding again?" she asked, her tone both soft and teasing.

"Observing," Ethan corrected flatly, though he couldn't hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. He turned toward her, motioning for her to lead the way. "Let's get started."

Clara fell into step beside him, and together they walked the corridor to the strategy room he'd prepared.

The strategy room was filled with quiet chatter, though the moment Ethan entered, the noise died down. Twelve second years—all carefully chosen by him—sat waiting around a central table where an enchanted map of the Labyrinth Grove hovered, glowing faintly above the surface.

Everyone was dressed identically in their black tracksuits. Godfred Tell, his solid frame impossible to miss, leaned forward with his arms crossed. Zara King adjusted the metal clasp on her wrist, fidgeting absentmindedly. Across the table, Andrew Peters sat quietly in the shadows, fingers tracing patterns on the table's edge, while Derrick Griswold exchanged a few quips with Lisa Tennyson.

Ethan strode to the head of the table and placed his hands on the edge, his gaze sweeping the room. The silence held for a beat, then he began.

"This outing isn't a fight," Ethan started, his voice carrying the weight of authority, "but the Labyrinth Grove isn't to be taken lightly either. It's unpredictable. I want us organized."

He gestured to the glowing map, which shifted to display the intricate maze of paths, forests, and clearings. "We'll split into 13 teams, each led by one of you. That's around 115 students per team. I'll lead the main team and oversee the outing as a whole."

He let his eyes meet each of theirs, trusting in their abilities. "Your roles are designed to play to your strengths."

He pointed first to Godfred Tell. "Godfred, you're in charge of Team Coordination. You'll ensure smooth communication between teams and keep everyone focused."

Godfred gave a single nod, his steady presence reassuring.

"Zara King," Ethan continued, turning to the Metal-affinity mage. "You'll handle Navigation. The Grove shifts unpredictably. Use your instincts to adapt and keep your team on track."@@@@

"Piece of cake," Zara replied, cracking a confident grin.

Ethan's gaze shifted to Clara. "Clara, you'll take charge of Pathfinding. Use your telepathy to guide your team along the safest routes and sense any disruptions."

"Understood," Clara replied smoothly, her eyes sharp and focused.

"Andrew." Ethan turned to the Shadow mage. "You're on Supplies Management. Find and gather resources as you move. Prioritize essentials."

Andrew nodded once, his calm gaze betraying no emotion.

"Derrick Griswold," Ethan continued. "You're on Safety Checks. Use your water affinity to keep your team clear of hazards—physical and magical."

"Got it," Derrick replied with an easygoing shrug, though his blue eyes were serious.

"Now that everyone's here, let's discuss tomorrow's outing. This isn't combat—it's discipline. Everyone will oversee their designated teams. Junior brother Ethan, as the newest Tyrant, will join us and assist where needed."

The eyes of all present flicked to Ethan, seated near the edge of the table. Though he was the fifteenth-ranked Tyrant, his crimson gaze held a determination that few could dismiss. He nodded firmly in acknowledgment, offering no words—he didn't need to.

"I'll set up the main perimeter," Fang Ren continued. "As always, my team's speed will ensure we're prepared for anything unexpected."

Kelvin Daniels, the second-ranked Tyrant of Healing, spoke next. His tall, slightly muscular form radiated a sense of quiet wisdom. "I'll oversee the medical team and ensure everyone's safety. If anyone steps out of line, they'll regret it before they need healing." His bluish-gold crest shimmered faintly; the number 2 etched boldly beneath the cross.

"Leave the energy supplies and combat gear to me," said Lu Qi, the Tyrant of Lightning. His white ponytailed braid swayed as he leaned forward, purple feline eyes sharp and confident. "My team will distribute rations and equipment where necessary." The lightning bolt insignia marked him clearly as number 3.

Next was Ria Rendall, the fourth-ranked Tyrant of Water. Her calm, almost serene voice carried through the room. "The water supplies and camp utilities will be my responsibility. We'll ensure the outing stays smooth and organized." The ocean-blue tiara on her forehead sparkled faintly, matching the crest marked with 4 on her uniform.

"I'll handle the traps and formations," said Cassandra Cása, her tone cold and clipped. The Tyrant of Arsenals and Formations sat with her arms crossed, her gray dull eyes reflecting little emotion. "If anyone gets lost, that's on them, not me." Her crest of runes surrounding a slim figure glowed with a faint light, the number 5 beneath it.

Dorcas Richards, the sixth-ranked Tyrant of Ice, tossed her blue hair over her shoulder, exuding arrogance as always. "Any perimeter breaches or disturbances will be frozen solid. My team won't let anything through." Her icy crest—white snowflakes encircled by icicles—spoke volumes about her control.

"Puppets are always useful for surveillance," said Lamair, grinning as he spoke. The seventh-ranked Tyrant of Puppeteering wore a proud expression, his crest of puppet strings glowing faintly. "I'll take the rear with my team and ensure no stragglers get left behind."

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The room darkened slightly as Dora Dinne, the Tyrant of Darkness, finally spoke. Her hollow black eyes and pale complexion made her presence unnerving to some, though Ethan merely nodded in respect. "I'll oversee patrols in the night. Shadows will be our eyes, and no one will see them coming." Her choker gleamed as the black starless-night crest glimmered faintly.

Pierre Cása, Cassandra's twin and the ninth-ranked Tyrant of Metals, gave a curt nod. "Metal fortifications and camp defenses are mine to handle." His silvery black crest with inscriptions matched his sister's precision, though his tone was far less icy.

"Whatever," Leon Richards, Dorcas's cousin and the tenth-ranked Tyrant of Ice, grumbled. "I'll make sure nobody does anything stupid with the second years. Babysitting isn't why I'm here, but I'll do it."

"Leon..." Dorcas hissed under her breath, though Ethan ignored the petty feud.

At the far end of the table, Gary Whitestone, the Tyrant of Space and eleventh-ranked, perked up. Despite his childlike appearance, there was a quiet danger in his glowing brown eyes. "I'll cover long-distance transport if we need anything from camp. Saves time."

"I'll deal with creatures or interruptions," said Max Noir, the Tyrant of Summons. His silver-glowing eyes matched Gary's in eerie calm. "My beasts can handle any wild threats before they become a problem."

Emmanuel Delta, the thirteenth-ranked Tyrant of Earth, chuckled deeply, his massive form shaking the table slightly. "We'll reinforce the ground if needed. Don't trip over yourselves out there."

Finally, Pywernia Verna, the petite Tyrant of Blood, spoke with cheerful excitement. "If anything happens to any second years, I'll be ready to deal with it. Don't worry, they'll survive... probably." Her crest—a red drop of blood—gleamed ominously.

With all voices heard, Fang Ren rose from his seat, his imposing frame casting a shadow over the table. "We leave tomorrow at dawn. The juniors will be watching us, so remember—you represent the Tyrants. Any questions?"

The room was silent save for the faint hum of energy lingering in the air. Ethan stood last, giving a calm nod to his seniors. "I won't let you down."

Fang Ren's green gear-like eyes turned toward him, a faint smile playing at his lips. "See that you don't, junior brother. You've earned your place here. Now prove why you deserve it."

The meeting ended with chairs scraping back and footsteps echoing as the Tyrants dispersed, their striking red tracksuits shimmering like liquid fire as they moved. Ethan clenched his fist, his crimson gaze sharp as ever.

Today would be his first real outing as a Tyrant—and he had every intention of showing why he belonged.

With all that had been said there, he just needed to take his team, his class through and meet at the camping site. There had been some changes in his initial plan, but it wasn't anything big. Hopefully, everything goes well.