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"I can't believe it! That bitch Linnea just rejected Lith's application," Amelia said, pacing back and forth across the room.

Michael glanced at her and said, "Mom, language."

"It's okay; we'll find a way," Michael reassured her, casting a glance at James, a tall man with black hair and striking blue eyes. James, his father, was the only person who could calm Amelia. He was a calm and composed individual Michael had come to rely on over the years.

"Yes, I'll use my influence to ensure the application reaches either the King or the Queen of the Mage Association," Count Lark added confidently.

Lith and Count Lark had just returned from the Lightning Griffin Academy, the closest academy to Lutia. They went for Lith admission but Lith got rejected. Lith had been rejected on the grounds that his mentor is a disowned mage from the Mages Association.

"I'll also use my connections to help," James said, clearly upset. Lith had often visited the Silva household, and James and Amelia were happy that their son finally had a close friend. They had been hoping that both boys would attend the same academy, but now Lith's rejection had angered them deeply.

"Dad, please withdraw my application from the Lightning Griffin Academy as well," Michael said. James raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Fine. You shouldn't attend that worthless academy either," he said in agreement.

Both Lith and Michael were now 12 years old, the age when young mages typically entered an academy. Although they had both been accepted initially, Lith's rejection had prompted Michael to reconsider.

'Following the protagonist gives more benefit,' Michael thought inwardly, before adding with a smirk, 'But I don't need any academy to study, anyway.'

He knew that with his Grimoire, he could surpass the teachings of any mage in this era. His Grimoire was an artifact filled with advanced knowledge, far beyond what was taught in modern schools of magic. His Grimoire even have spells up to Tier IX while this world only has magic up to Tier V.

And its just a first part of the Legacy, to get higher he has to first master this one and only then he will get the next part.

The Grimoire also contained knowledge on how to build a magic tower. A magic tower is the dream of all mages on Mogar, yet only a select few know how to construct one. These individuals, often the most powerful guardians or ancient figures, hold onto this secret. Even then, most of them have only built the most basic magic towers.

In contrast, the magic tower Michael had constructed was a marvel of nature. It could synchronize with Mogar itself, drawing an infinite amount of mana from the world. It was capable of generating its own energy and housing vast reserves of mana crystals, ensuring a virtually endless supply of power.

Though Michael lacked both materials as well as require power level to build one so he is holding on it for now.

Days passed as everyone kept trying to get Lith into the Academy but nothing works, even in Court Silva family and Count Lark is being isolated as whenever they meet anyone, they requested to help with Lith problem which caused many to them to run away from them whenever they meet them.

But still Count Lark never backed down, he continued to work harder and harder to make sure lith got admission in one of the Academies, while Michael after he rejected the Application of lighting Griffon have been swarmed by other Academies to get into their Academy. But he has also been holding off , seeing which Academy Lith will go.

Although Count Lark and Silva attempts has not yielded any result but it do has caused quite an stirr.

Lith topic quickly became a hot topic in court, garnering the same attention as an impending flood or plague. Count Lark and Silva actions succeeded in sparking widespread debate about Headmistress Linnea's controversial new rule.

Was it fair to bar a promising magician based on their background or circumstances? Should a headmistress have the unchecked power to alter admission criteria at such a prestigious institution?

These questions demanded deliberation, so the court granted Marchioness Distar extraordinary powers to deal with Count Lark and Silva as she saw fit—essentially leaving her to handle the relentless noble alone.

Marchioness Distar, already overwhelmed with her duties, considered silencing Lark permanently but resisted, knowing he was one of her most efficient and honest retainers. Replacing him would create more problems than it solved.

Reluctantly, she granted him yet another audience—the thirty-seventh in three months—to explain her predicament.

"My family recently faced an assassination attempt. While my daughter survived thanks to magical protections, she suffered a minor wound. Unfortunately, that wound turned out to be cursed."

"Cursed?" Count Lark adjusted his monocle in disbelief.

"Yes," the Marchioness confirmed, her tone weary. "We've consulted potion masters, healers, and shamans—none have succeeded. Instead of healing, the wound worsens. It's beyond anything we've encountered."

Her frustration was evident, but so was her hope that Lark would understand and cease his crusade. Whether he would, however, remained to be seen.

"Now, the only thing keeping my ever-bleeding daughter alive is a constant supply of potions and the tireless efforts of my personal magician, Ainz," the Marchioness explained, her voice heavy with frustration. "As you know, he's considered a genius—possibly the greatest ever to graduate from the Black Griffon Academy."

She paused before continuing, her tone darker. "To make matters worse, when the assailants realized they couldn't escape, they chose to blow themselves up, destroying all evidence. There was no one left to interrogate, no clues to examine. We still don't understand what they did to her!"

Count Lark's mind raced with intrigue. "This is fantastic!" he thought, already plotting his next move. But outwardly, he maintained his best grieving expression and said, "This is terrible!"

"I know you might call me an old fool," Count Lark began, "but I believe I have a solution to your problem."

The Marchioness scoffed, her frustration spilling over. "If you're referring to your little protégé, then you're not just a fool—you're certifiable! Do you have any idea how many have tried? I've tried. Ainz has tried. I could write a book with the names of all the experts who have attempted to help."

She sighed heavily, her voice trembling with both anger and despair. "My only hope now is Krishna Manohar, the god of healing himself. Only he can save me from this anguish. And the only reason he's not here is because that godforsaken lunatic is nowhere to be found!"

Her words hung in the air, charged with desperation, leaving the Count momentarily silent.

*******

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