Chapter 276: Announcement in the Hall

As Lira stepped out of her room, the hallway was strangely silent. Her boots echoed softly against the polished stone floors, each step making the emptiness more noticeable. No students wandered through the corridors, no usual chatter filled the air.

A faint hum reached her ears—soft at first, then growing into a low buzz, like a distant beehive. It came from the direction of the Great Hall.

Fluffy padded after her, tail raised high, as if sensing something special.

She pushed the tall wooden doors open—

Clap!

The sound rolled over her like a wave. The entire Great Hall was filled with students, teachers, and staff. Every pair of eyes turned toward her. Lira froze at the threshold, startled.

Up on the raised platform stood Grandmaster Elion, regal as always, but with a bright, proud smile that softened his stern features. He extended a hand toward her, a silent invitation.

Lira swallowed nervously and stepped forward. The moment she reached the platform, Elion placed a warm, steady hand on her shoulder.

"Everyone," Elion’s voice carried through the hall, rich and calm, "this remarkable young woman—our student, Lira Elion, whom I am proud to call my adopted daughter—has done something extraordinary. She has guided new students to our doors. With her kindness and strength, she brought those in need to a place where they can grow."

The room erupted in applause again, louder this time.

Lira’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. So many faces. So many eyes. She had faced monsters, storms, and ancient places... yet this—being seen—made her palms sweat more than anything else.

Elion raised his hand gently and the hall quieted.

"As this is a moment of new beginnings," he continued, "I wish to make an announcement. Let it be known: our academy is now home to multielement users."

A ripple of shocked whispers and gasps filled the room.

Elion’s gaze swept over the crowd, calm and commanding. "For centuries, the world has forgotten or feared those who carry more than one element. But no more. Our academy will be the first to teach and protect them again. Other academies have already pledged their support. More students will come. And they will know they are safe beneath our roof."

Then the applause came again—deeper, louder, filled with energy. A warmth spread through the hall, not from magic, but from people.

Lira blinked quickly as tears welled up, hot and overwhelming. She wasn’t someone who liked being the center of attention... but in this moment, she felt it. The warmth of gratitude, belonging, and pride.

A single tear slid down her cheek.

Elion chuckled softly and wiped it away with the corner of his sleeve. "Don’t cry, my child. This... you did this. You opened a door for many. Their fear will fade because of you."

Lira nodded, her throat tight.

"Now," Elion said with a gentle push toward the tables, "go to your friends."

She walked off the platform, Fluffy trotting proudly at her heels.

Elion raised his hand once more, his voice ringing out: "Let us all enjoy this beautiful evening and celebrate this new era together!"

With a graceful sweep of his hand, the great oak doors opened, and dozens of trays and platters floated into the hall. Dishes of steaming food and sweet pastries arranged themselves neatly on the long tables, plates sliding into place with perfect precision.

Elion’s elemental control was effortless—elegant in a way that always left students awestruck.

Laughter burst across the hall. Students clinked their cups, teachers exchanged warm looks, and even some of the new arrivals, who had been so quiet before, began to smile.

The ones Lira had brought approached her, their faces shining with gratitude. Fae ran to hug her, wings fluttering with excitement.

"I’m so happy!" Fae laughed, squeezing her tight. "The hermit man still hasn’t left his room, though. He’s scribbling strange notes on everything!"

Renkai, from across the table, chuckled. "Expected."

Thalanir raised an eyebrow. "At least he’s quiet."

Lira smiled softly. "I’ll check on him tomorrow."

The night stretched into a warm, glowing celebration—full of food, laughter, and the kind of joy that comes when a burden is shared and hope begins to grow roots.

For the first time, multielement users had a place to belong. And it had started... with her.

The celebration stretched late into the night, laughter and chatter weaving through the Great Hall like music. Lira moved from group to group, talking with students old and new, feeling the warmth of their gratitude and excitement.

Her steps eventually led her down a quieter hallway, to a door marked with runes that pulsed faintly—the hermit’s room.

She knocked softly. "It’s Lira."

The door opened a mere hand’s width, and a mess of wild hair and tired eyes peeked through. Then, without a word, the door swung wider—just enough for hands to emerge, stuffing bundles of crinkled parchment into hers.

Charts covered in scrawled runes, half-finished elemental diagrams, and strange swirling sketches piled higher and higher in her arms.

"Here. Take these. I need more space. And ink. And possibly... a better table." His voice was fast, distracted, as if his thoughts ran ahead of his mouth.

Lira tried not to laugh as another sheet—what looked suspiciously like a drawing of a flaming snail—landed on top of the stack.

"Um, I—"

"Good. Excellent. You’ll understand it later," he said, already half-turned back toward his cluttered room. "It’s revolutionary."

And then click—the door closed.

She stood there in the corridor, arms full of papers, smiling softly.

It wasn’t just a school anymore. It was starting to feel like a circle of people. A place where everyone fit, even the strange hermit with his flaming snail theories.

She shook her head with quiet amusement, tucking the bundle into her spatial bag with practiced ease.

The walk back to her room was calm. The corridors were lit with soft golden lamps, shadows dancing gently along the walls. When she opened her door, the room welcomed her like a warm embrace.

Her bed was soft and inviting, the faint scent of wild herbs and clean linen filling the air.

She let herself fall onto the bed with a long exhale, Fluffy leaping up gracefully to curl against her side.

The little cat-like creature purred, pressing its warm body against hers as she pulled the blanket over them.

"This feels good," she whispered into the quiet.

Good... and safe.

Her eyes drifted closed, the warmth of Fluffy and the distant hum of the Academy wrapping around her like a cocoon. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have to look over her shoulder.

She belonged here.

And with that thought, sleep claimed her gently.

Morning sunlight filtered softly through her window, painting golden threads across the floor. Lira stretched, Fluffy yawning beside her and curling deeper into the blanket.

She slipped into her robe and stepped out, letting the cool air of dawn brush against her skin. The Academy was quiet at this hour—only birdsong and the faint rustle of leaves greeted her.

Her boots whispered against the grass as she made her way toward the grove, the sacred place she tended to with so much care. Ancient trees arched overhead, their leaves shimmering faintly with traces of magic.

Lira knelt by the first row of seedlings, brushing her fingers lightly over the tender stems. "Good morning, little ones," she whispered.

But the leaves were drooping. The vines that normally twitched toward her touch lay still, sluggish. She walked deeper into the grove, frowning. The growth she’d expected—the gentle pulse of life after the last infusion of energy—was barely there.

A small pang tugged at her chest. "Why aren’t you growing?" she murmured, crouching to inspect a stubborn herb whose buds refused to open.

She tried releasing a stream of water element from her hands, letting the cool flow ripple across the soil. The plants soaked it in, but something was off. The magic felt thin, distant, as if it slid over the surface without truly sinking into the roots.

It wasn’t enough.

Lira exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. "Alright," she whispered, "let’s do this properly."

She left the grove for a moment, climbing the soft mossy hill that led to the giant tree—an ancient sentinel that watched over the land. Its trunk was wide enough to hold an entire house, its crown lost in the mists.

Nestled in its roots was a small pool of spring water, clear and shimmering with faint blue light. She knelt by it, cupping the water in her hands. It hummed faintly, as if recognizing her.

The moment the cool liquid touched her skin, she felt her elemental connection deepen—a quiet, steady heartbeat beneath the surface. She whispered a small invocation and carried the water back down to the grove.

Kneeling once more, she poured it gently onto the roots of the struggling plants. The water soaked into the soil, glimmering faintly, and the air around her shifted. The grove seemed to exhale. Leaves trembled as if waking from a deep sleep.

Her own power alone hadn’t been enough. But this—this ancient water—was.

Lira brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek and smiled faintly. "There you go," she said softly.

Some things couldn’t be forced. They needed patience... and old magic.