Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 890: Zeth

An influx of mages streamed into the masquerade hall in large numbers. Vivian couldn't precisely recall the total count of outfitters hired for the tournament, but it was certainly in the hundreds. Transporting such a vast quantity of bloodthirsty mages, gathered in Aqua Terra for combat, into elegant attire and dispatching them swiftly would have been an insurmountable task without a veritable army to manage the logistics.

It was a considerable relief to witness her strategic investment yielding results, with over three-quarters of the anticipated mages already in attendance. Soon, everyone would be present, and the festivities could officially commence.

In truth, the event had already begun long before this moment.

This wasn't solely for the mages seeking prospective students or recruits; it equally applied to the combatants themselves. The more discerning participants were acutely aware that this occasion offered more than just a chance to greet potential future patrons. It also presented a crucial opportunity to assess their future rivals.

Certainly, limitations were in place. Aqua Terra's suppression field remained active within this domain, and with the addition of masks and specialized anti-magic attire, individuals' power levels and identities were meant to be well concealed. However, resourceful individuals always found avenues to circumvent such restrictions.

Some combatants simply possessed distinct physical characteristics. The effectiveness of one's robes became irrelevant when they were easily discernible due to towering stature. While numerous imposing figures were present among the combatants, astute mages would still diligently seek any available information. And that was merely one facet of the opportunity.

The masquerade provided a fertile ground for any intelligent individual to gather intelligence on their adversaries. A wealth of knowledge could be gleaned through direct conversation or keen observation. Furthermore, some mages might succumb to arrogance and remove their masks to partake in refreshments, inadvertently revealing their identities.

Even if individuals remained masked, there was no inherent barrier to the exchange of information. The mages could readily share insights regarding formidable opponents participating in the arenas and those requiring particular caution. Those lacking valuable intel to offer could still gain a significant understanding by simply listening discreetly.

In fact, this very strategy was precisely Vivian's intention.

While she awaited the possibility of the Beyond-user activating their power to provoke her once more, she could gain substantial insight merely by tuning into the prevailing conversations. Though it might be somewhat premature in the tournament to draw definitive conclusions about the ultimate contenders, the collective discernment of the attendees historically proved surprisingly adept at identifying the most promising candidates.

Any rumors circulating today would prove invaluable in pinpointing individuals to monitor closely—and, by extension, those Faction Heads were likely already focusing their attention upon. Although they might have openly discussed certain mages of interest with each other, they would undoubtedly strive to conceal their true targets with the utmost discretion.

Vivian allowed her gaze to sweep across the mingling mages. While many still drifted aimlessly through the hall, others had already grasped the underlying dynamics of the event. Groups began to coalesce throughout the room as mages carefully probed for useful information while attempting to avoid revealing anything of significant value themselves.

It was not difficult to intercept their discussions. Vivian possessed the ability to perceive any conversation within the hall with minimal focus. Yet, even for her, tracking every single dialogue simultaneously was an impossibility. Her mind lacked the capacity to divide its attention so extensively.

Consequently, she concentrated on discerning patterns. She listened for recurrent mentions of names—individuals who were being discussed more frequently than others. She did not anticipate uncovering much significant intelligence at this early stage, as it was too soon in the tournament for anyone to have truly left a substantial mark.

However, as the night progressed, certain individuals would inevitably distinguish themselves. A select few might even…

Vivian's contemplation faltered.

Then, a frown creased her lips beneath the concealment of her mask. A considerable disturbance emanated from the direction of one of the dining areas—a commotion far larger than one might expect so early in the evening. Fortunately, she did not need to physically relocate to investigate. She merely extended her perceptive senses towards the source of the sound.

Vivian's thoughts fractured and scattered.

Her consciousness observed with stunned disbelief, tinged with a sliver of awe, as a diminutive mage executed a swift maneuver, yanking a tablecloth laden with dozens of meticulously stacked plates of food. The entire ensemble was dragged from the table, culminating in a resounding crash as plates shattered and food splattered across the ground in a chaotic symphony.

A surge of anger flashed through Vivian's mind.

And then, for the second time, her train of thought derailed.

The diminutive mage had meticulously gathered the enormous tablecloth, now laden with spoiled victuals, and proceeded to jump with vigor upon it. Everything was ground into an unappetizing paste within the confines of the cloth. With a satisfied nod, the mage dismounted their impromptu sculpture. Ensuring the fabric's open end was securely twisted, the mage removed their mask and let it fall to the floor, revealing the countenance of a young woman. She then effortlessly lifted the bulging bundle of crushed crockery and mangled food into the air.

A distinct cracking sound echoed.

Her jaw distended unnaturally, much like a serpent's, exposing twin rows of formidable, sharp teeth.

Then, with astonishing speed, she lowered the entire bundle into her gullet.

Not a single bite was taken.

The petite mage simply offered a wide grin, her tongue tracing a path across her lips as a contented sigh escaped her. She had just consumed the sustenance of at least ten individuals in one go. All the surrounding mages observed her with utter bewilderment. It appeared she remained oblivious to their astonishment.

Vivian's eye twitched slightly. Accurately recalling faces was not her strong suit; she encountered countless mages, the vast majority unworthy of her attention. Yet, an element of this particular mage felt vaguely familiar, as though they had crossed paths before. However, before she could delve deeper into this fleeting thought, a profoundly disquieting sight captured her focus.

The young woman's gaze had shifted to the nearest table… and she still appeared ravenously hungry.

***

Zeth suppressed the primal urge to flick out his tongue and sample the ambient air. Such an action would prove futile with his face concealed by a mask, offering only the unpleasant taste of the mask's interior. A part of him yearned to rip the confounded thing off and discard it.

However, it constituted the sole element preserving his disguise. Robes were designed for ordinary humans—beings with conventional flesh and unremarkable facial structures. Such attire proved inadequate for one possessing a snout and scales. While gloves offered some assistance, they were far from a perfect solution. Without his mask, the supernatural shadow cast by his hood would be insufficient to conceal his true form from any discerning observer.

This was precisely the reason for his presence here.

Zeth surveyed his surroundings, positioned near a corner of the expansive hall. Before him stood a wooden table adorned with two chairs, their red padding showing signs of wear. Two chalices filled with effervescent liquid had already been placed upon the table, despite the absence of any occupants. His eyes narrowed. Everything aligned precisely with the information he had been given.

Numerous other tables were dispersed throughout the hall, which itself was of a colossal magnitude. He was confident that dozens upon dozens of smaller tables were scattered across its expanse. For the provided description to be so uncannily accurate indicated either an exceptionally close connection to the tournament or the involvement of something far more enigmatic.

This revelation was indeed intriguing, profoundly so.

This marked the second of the two predictions that had proven correct.

He approached the table and drew out one of the chairs, settling into it with quiet deliberation. Mages were already congregating throughout the hall. A few cast glances in his direction, but no one made a move to occupy the seat opposite him.

Zeth made no motion towards the goblet resting near his hands. Considering the extent to which his enigmatic benefactor had already orchestrated events, he harbored no desire to find himself succumbing to poison. Perhaps it was mere paranoia; few venoms could affect him, yet Zeth did not harbor an underestimation of his adversaries.

A sudden, resounding crash from one of the dining areas drew his attention. His gaze instinctively shifted. The dense presence of intervening mages obstructed his view of the cause. However, in the fleeting moment his attention was diverted, an individual had taken the seat opposite him.

Their stature was shorter than he had anticipated. A hooded cloak, strikingly similar to his own, enveloped their entire form. Gloves concealed every inch of exposed flesh on their hands and arms. The only distinguishing feature of their attire was the mage's mask.

Rather than an animalistic motif, they had opted for a more understated design. It was crafted from white ceramic, featuring a single, pale blue eye painted centrally.

“I am pleased you could attend,” the mage conveyed, their voice distinctly feminine.

“I could not decline such a courteous summons,” Zeth responded, his voice tinged with a hissing amusement he made no effort to suppress. This woman had long discerned his true identity. “And it is certainly a memorable way to command attention. Two correct predictions. First, regarding the red-haired woman. Then, this specific table. You desired my notice, and now you have it. But I must inquire: Do you perceive me as incompetent, or do you believe I would be incapable of reaching this point without your assistance?”

“Were I to deem you incompetent, do you truly believe I would have exerted this much effort to arrange this meeting?” the woman inquired. A subtle trace of amusement colored her tone, yet it felt remote, almost inhuman. “You possess capability. Neither of us would be present in this location if that were not the reality.”

“I find myself inclined to concur,” Zeth responded, his gaze sharpening behind the concealment of his mask. “However, if your assertion holds true… pray tell. What compelled you to bestow upon me a tournament badge?”