Return of the Runebound Professor Chapter 892: A quick demonstration

Noah’s meticulously crafted strategy required an immediate overhaul. This wasn't an unexpected development; adapting plans was an inherent part of any endeavor. He harbored no illusions that his students would conveniently congregate in one spot, serenely awaiting his musical serenade amidst the deafening roar of the immense assembly.

His initial, optimistic gamble was that the mere mention of a musical performer would circulate, alerting them through the grapevine. Surely, if any of them caught wind of a violinist gracing the hall, it would serve as an unmistakable beacon, identifying him. Or so he had fervently hoped.

He’d clambered atop a sturdy table, instrument in hand, and commenced his performance. This spectacle certainly captured a few wandering gazes. Most of the other cultivators present in the seemingly boundless throng were engaged in conversation. However, by the conclusion of his inaugural piece, a disconcerting realization dawned upon him: the audience he’d anticipated had failed to materialize.

A mere few dozen onlookers had gathered. While they appeared to appreciate the melodies—a comforting sensation, to be sure—that was the extent of it. No one displayed more than a flicker of curiosity or casual enjoyment of the tune.

It was only as his perplexed gaze swept across the vast expanse of the hall, a silent inquiry into the absence of a larger crowd, that Noah comprehended the critical miscalculation he had made.

He had overlooked a crucial variable.

They were no longer in Arbalest.

Furthermore, he was not the sole musical artist gracing the venue. Others were present. Some, clad in the insignia of the Church of Repose, appeared to be part of the tournament's operational staff, positioned along the periphery with an assortment of stringed instruments and flutes. A select few seemed to be actively playing, yet their music was utterly drowned out by the titanic clamor of countless conversations permeating the chamber.

Noah wasn't even the only competitor with a musical instrument. From his elevated vantage point, he discerned at least three other individuals within the crowd bearing some form of musical apparatus. He distinctly recalled one person sporting vibrantly colored maracas clipped to their hip.

This observation brought his performance to an abrupt halt. For a suspended moment, Noah could only stare, dumbfounded. Arbalest had profoundly convinced him that he was among the last vestiges of wandering musicians, a dying art form. Music had been effectively suppressed due to its inextricable link with Formations.

Yet, this was Obsidia. And it appeared their apprehension regarding Formations was considerably less pronounced than in Arbalest. Here, they seemed far more prevalent. This revelation should have been cause for celebration, signifying that music was no longer a proscribed or taboo practice. The potential ramifications were truly astounding. Noah’s mind raced with a thousand avenues of inquiry he would have eagerly pursued had this significant discovery not surfaced at this precise, inconvenient juncture.

Unfortunately for him, it had.

And regrettably, at this very instant, it distilled into a singular, stark reality.

His uniqueness had been drastically diluted. Performing a conventional melody was woefully insufficient to capture his students' attention. Given the sheer scale of this arena, the probability of them casually overhearing him was virtually nonexistent. Noah needed to be the subject of conversation.

Frankly, what he required was the genesis of a legend.

A legend he currently lacked.

At least, not under the prevailing circumstances. Only a handful within this vast assembly had witnessed his combat prowess. His identity remained a mystery to the masses. His music, once a distinctive offering, was now merely pleasant background noise, struggling to assert itself against the general hubbub. A significant alteration was imperative.

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And that alteration pertained to his strategy.

He was no longer the preeminent figure in this environment. A commonplace Formation would prove entirely inadequate. It was only now sinking in that the crowd surrounding him likely harbored numerous Formation masters. His sole distinguishing features at present were his ornate black coat and peculiar mask.

That, and the fact that he was standing atop a table. A singular act in this sea of attendees.

But within such a colossal gathering, he might as well have followed Bird's example and donned his birthday suit; it still wouldn't have merited significant attention. It would have merely resulted in his expulsion from the masquerade.

He required something more.

Substantially more.

Noah drew upon his magical reserves. He was acutely aware that this action would not attract the desirable sort of attention. However, a considerable infusion of magic was requisite if he intended to become the topic of widespread discussion.

As arcane power surged through his being, channeling into his violin's bow, his melody intensified, resonating with greater volume. Potent energy coalesced in the ambient air. Almost instantaneously, the surrounding patrons, previously milling about, pivoted their focus directly towards him.

Despite their domains being suppressed, the volume of his music surged, nearly doubling in an instant. Anyone positioned close to him could no longer ignore it. However, this was still insufficient. Noah channeled even more magic, causing his Runes to tremble.

Hollow Symphony was activated, integrating with his magic. It expertly wove the power he was expending into the Formation at an impossibly rapid pace. The musical volume escalated further. The Formation precisely regulated its intensity, projecting the sound outward while preventing those nearby from being overwhelmed by the melody.

Noah, aided by Hollow Symphony, drew upon every last bit of his power to fortify the Formation. Given the sheer size of the hall, an immense effort was required. As new instruments joined his song, blending with the violin's melody, a burgeoning orchestra emerged. A piano began to play, soon accompanied by the resonant voice of a harp.

He had undoubtedly captured everyone's attention. The modest gathering he had initially attracted had, in mere moments, swelled to hundreds of mages, all directing their gaze toward him. Noah didn't waste any effort trying to decipher their thoughts; it was irrelevant. His sole focus was ensuring the colossal Formation he was constructing did not collapse.

Even with Hollow Symphony undertaking a significant portion of the work to maintain cohesiveness, this endeavor was far from trivial. He aimed to capture the attention of every individual within a hall so vast its extremities were utterly indiscernible.

Naturally, he held no illusions about his ability to play loudly enough for every single person to hear. His objective was simply to spark conversation. It mattered little whether they adored or detested the music. As long as whispers arose about a masked musician, his objective was achieved.

Noah's very soul was poured into the melody. His hand moved with blinding speed, a mere blur as he guided his bow across the violin strings. The world around him dissolved as he devoted himself completely to the music and his runes. Nothing else held significance. He could sense a profound stirring within him, as if awakening from a deep slumber, but even this sensation was channeled into his music.

A few subtle intrusions from the Beyond managed to infiltrate the composition. Noah had not intended to incorporate such an element, yet with his entire soul engaged, it proved difficult to avoid. Fortunately, Hollow Symphony adeptly isolated this power into its own distinct thread, allowing it to intertwine with the melody without corrupting the overall piece.

Noah was only vaguely aware of the effects his music produced. His soul was so deeply entwined with the melody that he felt as though he had achieved a complete fusion with his runes. However, he lacked the mental capacity to analyze the implications of this state.

His sole focus remained the song.

Then, the world slowly reformed around him. Noah played the concluding note of a song he himself did not consciously know. The Formation he had painstakingly constructed dissolved, unwound in the same manner it had been meticulously crafted. It certainly would have delivered a powerful statement if he had unleashed all the gathered magic, testing the potency of the Imbuements undoubtedly saturating the hall's floor and walls. However, such an action would likely have been met with considerable disapproval from the other attendees.

Noah's lungs burned, yearning for air, and perspiration began to bead on his back. He had no clear idea of the duration he had been playing. It couldn't have been excessively long, as his magical reserves were not significantly depleted. He presumed it was of little consequence.

Everywhere he looked, gazes were fixed upon him. It was challenging to ascertain the precise thoughts behind each stare.

His audacious plan had succeeded.

But perhaps it had been a little *too* successful.

Not everyone was merely observing. A considerable number of mages were advancing toward him, and their expressions did not convey friendly intentions.