The tension in the room thickened as Sutra stepped toward the long table, his expression composed and enigmatic. With a subtle flick of his wrist, glowing tendrils of azure light swirled from his fingertips and coalesced above the table's surface. The air shimmered, and then, with a soft hum, a globe-like structure materialized, floating inches above the table. Its surface gleamed, a translucent sphere filled with a swirling array of colors, shifting and twisting like a living entity.
The students gasped in unison, their eyes wide with fascination.
"What is this?" one of the bolder students blurted out, leaning forward.
"This," Sutra said calmly, his voice carrying a note of reverence, "is a Bhugol, a device of immense rarity. It reveals the true essence and magical power of a human. It shows not just strength, but potential, alignment, and the paths that lie hidden within one's soul."
The students exchanged awed glances, the magnitude of the moment sinking in. Even Rawa couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation as he gazed at the swirling orb, its vibrant colors dancing like a miniature aurora.
Sutra turned his gaze to Rawa, his eyes calm but intense. "Rawa Vols, step forward and place your hand upon the Bhugol. Let us see what lies beneath the surface."
Rawa felt his breath hitch. He hadn't expected this — a device that could reveal his very essence, his strengths and weaknesses laid bare for all to see. Doubts flooded his mind. What if the Bhugol showed something… dangerous? What if it marked him as an enemy, a threat?
But there was no room for hesitation. Under the watchful eyes of Sutra and the students, Rawa squared his shoulders and moved toward the floating sphere. Each step seemed to echo in the silence of the room. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and touched the cool, smooth surface of the Bhugol.
The effect was immediate.
A ripple of energy spread from the point of contact, and the orb flared brightly. Colors exploded within it — fiery reds, deep blues, vivid greens, and brilliant golds, swirling and merging in a mesmerizing dance. The students watched in stunned silence as the hues shifted and changed, the patterns growing more complex, more beautiful.
"It's… incredible," murmured a student with wide eyes, unable to tear her gaze away.
Sutra's expression remained focused. "The Bhugol is determining Rawa's magical power and attributes," he explained, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of authority. "Each color, each shift, corresponds to a different aspect of his abilities."
As they watched, the colors began to slow, settling into distinct bands of shimmering light. Then, with a soft, crystalline chime, a parchment-like page appeared above the Bhugol, suspended in midair. Intricate symbols and letters began to write themselves across its surface, forming a detailed profile.
The room held its breath as Sutra read aloud:
"Name: Rawa Vols
Breed: Human
Level: 7/51
Magical Ability: Indo-Attack
Combat: 33/100
Defense: 48/100
Speed: 25/50
Magic: 78/80
Health: 100/100
Intelligence: 60/80
Luck: 290/500
Magic Type: Healing, Fire, Moon."
A murmur ran through the students as they absorbed the information. Rawa felt his heart racing. He hadn't known most of these things about himself — hadn't even known such a detailed breakdown of his abilities was possible. His eyes lingered on the stats, confusion mingling with unease. Indo-Attack? Moon Magic?
But even more perplexing was Sutra's reaction. The librarian frowned slightly, his gaze flicking from the page to Rawa and back again.
"It hasn't determined your personal attributes," Sutra muttered, almost to himself. "Usually, the Bhugol reveals everything — height, weight, age, even latent talents. But in your case…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "No matter. This reading is more than sufficient."
He turned to the students, his expression neutral. "What you see here is Rawa Vols' magical profile. While his health and magical prowess are quite high, you will notice that his combat and defensive skills are only average. His speed is adequate, but his luck… his luck is unusually high."
The students leaned forward, studying the page intently. One of them, a tall girl with sharp features and a braid hanging over her shoulder, raised her hand hesitantly. "Sir," she asked, glancing between Rawa and the Bhugol, "how does he compare to… well, to us?"
Sutra considered the question for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. "A fair inquiry. Based on the data here, I would say Rawa is… weaker than most of you. His raw power may be significant, but many of you have trained longer and refined your combat skills to a higher degree. Some of you are, in fact, stronger than him."
There was a ripple of surprise — and relief — among the students. They exchanged looks, their earlier apprehension shifting into something akin to confidence. The tension in the air eased slightly, replaced by a sense of assurance.
"So, he's not really a threat," a young boy muttered under his breath. The girl beside him elbowed him sharply, but others nodded in agreement.
"Then why is he here?" asked another, a dark-haired student with a furrowed brow. "If he's not stronger than us… why is he so important?"
Sutra raised a hand, and the murmuring quieted. "Rawa Vols is not here because of his strength," Sutra said slowly, his gaze sweeping over the room. "He is not the hero we seek to protect the kingdom — not yet, at least. But even so, he has something… something unknown."
His eyes locked onto Rawa's. "That's why he's here. Not because of what he is now, but because of what he might become."
The words sent a chill down Rawa's spine. The students exchanged uncertain glances, their earlier confidence wavering. For a long moment, the room was silent, each person lost in their own thoughts.
"Still, he is not our hope who will protect us," Sutra murmured, almost as if to himself. "But we hope… we hope nonetheless."
The students looked at Rawa with renewed curiosity — and a hint of something darker. Fear, perhaps. Suspicion. He met their gazes as steadily as he could, but inside, his thoughts were a storm of confusion and doubt. What did Sutra mean? What was this unknown potential that the librarian saw?
And most importantly… what path lay before him now, in this kingdom that didn't trust him but still, somehow, placed its hope in him?
"Class dismissed, discussion about this class outside this room, we'll come here again within some minutes." Sutra said quietly, waving his hand. The parchment vanished, and the Bhugol dimmed. "Rawa, stay behind for a moment."
The students filed out, still whispering among themselves. Rawa stood alone before Sutra, the silence heavy between them. He swallowed hard, bracing himself.
What came next, he knew, could shape his fate forever.