Ibarin had been waiting alone in his office, the grand chamber dimly lit by several floating crystals that hung in the air. His fingers tapped idly against the polished wood of the desk, then moved to rub at the bottom of his chin as his thoughts churned.
His expression was grim, his mind running endlessly through every possibility, every path forward, and every way the situation could be twisted to his advantage. The students had failed.
He had warned them. Again and again, he had made it clear that in life, only those who succeeded could rise up the ladder.
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