Yaga Masamichi stood at the center, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the door. Beside him, Nanami adjusted his tie, expression unreadable.

Light from the hallway spilled in, casting a long shadow across the tatami mats. The figure that stepped through moved with practiced ease—no hesitation, no awe at the room full of special grade and grade 1 sorcerers.

Their clothes were clean but worn, the fabric telling stories of battles fought in distant lands. A weapon was strapped across their back, gleaming faintly in the low light.