The mage glanced up as Ashok approached, his eyes quickly recognizing the unmistakable uniform of the Academy. He clicked his tongue in mild annoyance, and with a deliberate air of superiority, he addressed Ashok.
"You're late," the mage said, his tone dripping with condescension. His words were sharp, almost mocking. "The Portal to the Academy is closed."
"Go back and come again next year," he added, his tone mocking, as though the matter was settled and Ashok had no business being here.
But the mage's words were far from a mere dismissal. He wasn't content with simply speaking—he deliberately raised his voice, weaving mana into the words. The sound boomed, amplified with magical resonance, carrying across the square in a way that drew the attention of everyone nearby.
