Seraphina stood, her eyes glowing with a pale blue mist—the effect of casting "Mana Eyes," a spell that allowed magicians to detect any living being with traces of mana in their body. She scanned the stage, trying to pinpoint Oz, but saw nothing. To her shock, no mana signature appeared where the Great Wizard stood.
In this world, every living creature held some form of mana, even animals. But George, being from another world, had none.
"What spell did he use?" Gideon leaned in and whispered, perplexed.
"I'm… not sure," Seraphina replied, still scanning the stage. "He can't be using teleportation. There's no mana to detect…"
Gideon's jaw tightened. Her response wasn't something he expected from a high-level witch like Seraphina. A novice might've been confused, but Seraphina was a 7-circle witch, only one step away from achieving the 8th circle—until recently believed to be the highest possible level of magic. Yet here she was, stumped.
Hearing Seraphina express doubt was like hearing a master swordsman confused by a basic sword technique. Even the students, from first-years to third-years, seemed to pick up on her unease, whispering among themselves.
George, meanwhile, took slow, deliberate steps toward the podium. The stadium, holding nearly a thousand students, went dead silent except for the echo of his footsteps.
"I stand here today," George began, his voice resonating throughout the stadium, "looking down upon each and every one of you—those who have praised me and those who have cursed me."
His eyes landed squarely on Donovan, who stood beside Mason Wolfe. Donovan's face drained of color as George's gaze pierced through him. He took a shaky step back, the sweat on his brow suddenly visible. His worst fear had materialized.
The other Emerald City guards noticed Donovan's reaction and tensed, unsure of what to do. They, too, felt a chill run down their spines, realizing there was little they could do if Oz decided to punish Donovan.
Mason leaned in and whispered, "Look, I'll distract him for a moment. While I do that, you make a run for it."
Donovan's eyes flicked nervously to George and then back to Mason. "Okay."
"I'll count to three," Mason began. "Three… two… on—"
But before Mason could finish, George smiled and continued his speech.
"But I don't mind. I value the opinion of the everyday man, whatever that may be. I welcome your voices—whether they are of praise or criticism—and I strive to improve myself." George gave a casual nod toward Donovan, signaling that he was not in danger.
Donovan let out a long breath of relief, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The rest of the guards, still tense, began to relax as well.
The students murmured in surprise. Most had expected Oz to incinerate Donovan where he stood, based on the many rumors circulating about the Great Wizard.
"I guess rumors are just rumors," one student whispered.
George continued, "As I look at every single person here, I see the future hope of this city, of the kingdoms, and of the empire." He let his gaze fall on the Empire Prince, who straightened in his seat. "But many of you don't see that hope in yourselves. Some of you believe you're just Class C students, or think you got into this academy by mere luck. Let me tell you—you may not see it, but I see unlimited potential in every one of you."
The students exchanged skeptical glances, wondering if they could really live up to his words. Was it possible for them to surpass even the Great Wizard?
"Emerald City wasn't built in a day," George continued, "and neither will your success. But if you trust yourself and give one hundred percent every single second you live, I promise you—you can surpass anything I have ever achieved."
A hush fell over the stadium as students absorbed his words. Back on Earth, George's speech would've been considered mediocre, maybe even cliché. But on this world, where public speaking was a rare art known only to politicians and con men, George's performance carried a unique weight. His delivery, though a poor mimic of what he had seen in movies, captivated the crowd.
Gideon began to clap first, followed by Seraphina. Slowly, the entire stadium filled with applause for what they perceived as an inspirational and grand speech.
George smiled, raising his hand to calm the crowd. "Now, I'm ready to take questions. If you believe you're worthy of asking me anything, come forward. If I do not answer, leave."
A line formed quickly, but despite the thousands present, fewer than a hundred students lined up to ask questions.
The first student stepped forward, his voice shaky. "How do I get stronger?"
George mentally scratched his head. He hadn't prepared for practical questions. "Is that all?" he asked, still scrambling for an answer.
"Yes, Great Wizard," the student replied, confused by the response.
"Next," George said, brushing off the question and motioning for the student to leave.
The boy, bewildered, glanced around before quietly walking away.
The next student, however, wasted no time. "Akshar wants to FIGHT!" the barbarian purist bellowed as he jumped onto the stage.
PENG!
Before anyone could react, George pulled a wrench from his pocket and smashed it across Akshar's face. The barbarian collapsed instantly, unconscious for the second time.
The Emerald City guards rushed forward, ready to arrest the barbarian, but George raised his hand. "Wait," he commanded. "This kid doesn't need to go to jail. What he needs is to stay in the academy and learn not to be this stupid… and pathetic."
At that moment, Akshar stirred back to consciousness, groaning from the pain. The first thing he saw was the Great Wizard standing over him, looking down with disdain.
"Right, Akshar?" George asked, voice low and commanding.
Akshar, barely able to speak, only nodded weakly.