Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 126: The Journey to the Labyrinth Grove Begins...

As the crimson sun hovered over the skyline, bathing the vast city of Antrim in its fiery glow, students from all thirteen academies bustled with excitement. The air buzzed with energy as chatter, laughter, and the faint hum of hover buses filled the streets. It was the day of the much-anticipated outing, and the city itself seemed alive, a silent spectator to the mass departure of its most talented magical youth.

Anbord Mage Academy (AMA)...

The meeting had concluded mere hours ago, and the Tyrants wasted no time. At the heart of the Anbord Mage Academy, the Main Courtyard became a spectacle of discipline and unity. A fleet of sleek hover buses, pristine black with shimmering gold highlights, floated just above the cobbled stone paths. The AMA crest—a flaming red A intertwined with a blazing sun—was emblazoned on their sides, glowing faintly.

Students from the second to fourth years stood in organized rows, their matching academy tracksuits a bold black with shimmering blue patterns. Among them, the Tyrants were unmistakable—Ethan, Lu Qi, Fang Ren, and the others radiated an aura of authority. The custom sigils on their uniforms shimmered like liquid fire under the sunlight, their golden armbands marking them as the academy’s elite.

"Move in formation!" Fang Ren, called out sharply, his voice cutting through the noise. His green gear-like eyes swept across the crowd, ensuring order.

"Second years, board the rear buses! Third years, to the middle. Fourth years take the front. Tyrants, we’ll take the lead," Ethan added, his commanding voice drawing immediate attention. He was calm and collected, but the excitement in his eyes betrayed him. At his side, Lu Qi, smirked.

"Hope they’ve reinforced the buses for this crowd," Lu Qi teased, arms crossed as his feline ears twitched.

As students began boarding in lines, the Tyrants moved last, stepping gracefully onto the lead bus. Inside, the seats were spacious, lined with enchanted leather, and glowing sigils illuminated the aisles. The air hummed faintly with magic as the bus powered up.

From the front of the courtyard, the hover buses slowly began to rise, engines purring softly. The lead bus, carrying the Tyrants, soared ahead first, followed by the rest of AMA’s fleet.

Through the wide windows, Ethan watched the academy grounds shrink in the distance. "This outing’s only the start," he murmured to himself, his thoughts locked on what awaited them in the Labyrinth Grove.

Wysteria Magical Academy...

At the Wysteria Magical Academy, an air of quiet elegance surrounded the departure process. Wysteria’s grounds were as breathtaking as ever—a sprawling campus of ivory towers covered in blooming wisteria vines. Find your next read at novelbuddy

Hover buses decorated in soft lavender hues floated serenely by the academy’s entrance, their exteriors glowing faintly under the runes carved into their sides. The Wysteria crest—a blooming wisteria intertwined with a crescent moon—was etched onto every door.

The students, clad in grey and white tracksuits adorned with silver floral patterns, moved in synchronized, graceful steps. There was no chaos, no shouting—only calm efficiency.

Head Prefect Liora Fontaine, a poised young woman with silver hair, stood at the forefront. "Second years, proceed orderly. The Academy expects nothing less than perfection," she spoke with serene authority. Her voice was cool, but it held the weight of someone who demanded excellence.

As the buses floated higher, students peered out of the windows, whispering with excitement. The destination had become the talk of every academy in the city.

Antrim Arcane Academy...

The scene at Antrim Arcane Academy was a stark contrast—loud, boisterous, and chaotic in the best way possible. Students bustled around excitedly in their emerald, green tracksuits, emblazoned with gold runes that pulsed faintly with magic. Magic wasn’t a new thing; it was just difficult and dangerous to master.

The hover buses here were sleek green with gilded arcane symbols swirling along their frames. The Antrim crest—a radiant star entwined with a serpent—glowed on the side panels.

Students joked, jostled, and practically leapt onto their buses; their energy uncontained. Professors walked about, shaking their heads with bemusement.

"Control yourselves, or we’ll leave you behind!" barked Professor Caldor, an aging but powerful mage whose staff thumped loudly on the stone. His words only seemed to increase the laughter.

In the front bus, the academy’s top students gathered, trading ideas about what challenges might await them in the Grove. "We’re going to ace this outing," said Elyra, a second year who leaned against the window, her eyes sparkling with excitement, her long white feline tail swaying lazily.

Luminari Magic School...

At Luminari Magic School, a more solemn and organized departure was underway. Luminari students—dressed in brilliant white tracksuits with gold sunbursts stitched across their backs—filed quietly into their buses. Luminari’s crest, a radiant golden sun encircled by runes, adorned every visible surface.

Their hover buses shone bright gold, the light reflecting brilliantly off the academy’s marble pathways. Luminari was a school of strict discipline and higher ideals, and their departure reflected this principle.

Senior Prefect Solis, a tall student with a stoic expression, addressed the crowd. "Stay focused. Whatever the Grove holds, Luminari will triumph."

The buses rose silently, gliding over the marble towers as students sat in quiet anticipation, some reviewing spells or maps.

Umbra Magic Institute...

The Umbra Magic Institute, renowned for its specialization in shadow and illusion magic, was shrouded in its usual mystique. Dark-stone buildings loomed across shadowed courtyards as hover buses—coated in deep black with violet glows—lined up under the arched gates.

Students dressed in black tracksuits accented with faint violet threads moved through the shadows with ease, their chatter soft but full of eagerness.

Professor Nyxoria, a figure cloaked in flowing robes, addressed them with a low, chilling voice. "Remember, Umbra’s legacy rests on your performance."

Inside the buses, shadows seemed to cling to the walls as students took their seats, their expressions sharp and focused.

Everwood Academy...

The grounds of Everwood Academy were a scene of natural splendor as students prepared for departure. Situated atop sprawling, forested hills, the academy itself seemed woven into nature—ancient oak trees arched over cobbled pathways, and glowing runes hung from branches like fireflies. Everwood students wore deep green tracksuits with gold leaf-like patterns across their sleeves and backs, an homage to their elemental roots and Plant affinities.

The hover buses, crafted from enchanted wood and etched with golden vines, hovered silently in neat rows. Their design was sleek yet organic, as though grown rather than built. The Everwood crest—a golden tree with radiant roots—was engraved on the doors, pulsing with a soft glow.

Students bustled with excitement, whispering about the Labyrinth Grove. "I heard the Grove’s full of nature spirits. Maybe we’ll meet an ancient guardian," a second year muttered to her friend.

The academy’s lead mentor, Master Eldrin, an old elf with long silver hair and robes of dark green, oversaw the preparations. His piercing emerald eyes surveyed the students. "Maintain discipline and honor our academy’s bond with the world. The Grove awaits you."

The buses began their smooth ascent, gliding past the forest canopy. Students peered out the windows, watching the academy’s lush grounds vanish as they joined the procession toward the teleportation site.

Blackstone Academy...

In stark contrast, Blackstone Academy exuded power and precision. Known for its combat-focused and rigorous training, the academy grounds were an expanse of dark stone and steel towers, sharp and imposing.

The hover buses, black with crimson and silver accents, hovered with an almost military discipline. Each vehicle bore the academy’s crest—a crimson shield with a silver sword embedded in it. Blackstone students wore sleek black tracksuits with sharp silver lines running down their arms and legs, giving them an air of intimidation.

"Let’s move out, Blackstone! No excuses, no delays!" barked Instructor Varros, a burly man with a gravelly voice. He strode through the crowds, his heavy boots thundering against the stone ground.

The students—rows of sharp-eyed, disciplined mages—filed into their buses in perfect formation. Conversations were clipped, focused.

"They say this outing is a test," muttered Christel, a tall second year with short red hair. "We’ll prove we’re the strongest here. And I will get to meet the so-called heir of our clan." Her green eyes glowed slightly.

As the buses rose, their crimson glow mirrored the academy’s fiery pride. The hum of the engines resonated with raw power as they streaked toward the skies.

Ravenswood School of Magic...

At Ravenswood, a school draped in shadow and prestige, the atmosphere was as enigmatic as the students themselves. The academy grounds featured twisting spires of black marble and stained glass, and the very air seemed tinged with whispers of forgotten magic.

The hover buses reflected this mystique—dark violet in color with streaks of shadowy light swirling across their surfaces. The Ravenswood crest—a black raven perched atop a crescent moon—was elegantly etched into the sides.

Students wore dark purple tracksuits with silver trims, the fabric subtly shimmering as though laced with magic. There was an aura of quiet confidence among them. Some students chuckled softly as illusions flickered around them, a sign of their unique mastery.

"Make haste," called Headmistress Elara, her cold, regal voice cutting through the murmur. She stood near the buses. "Remember, Ravenswood does not participate. We dominate."

Students smirked as they boarded. Jareth, a third year with an almost predatory grin, whispered to his companions, "I wonder how long the others will last in the Grove."

The buses drifted upward, leaving dark trails of shadowed light as they joined the growing procession across the city.

Antrim City Academy...

At Antrim City Academy, excitement was at its peak. The school grounds, though modest compared to the prestigious academies, were alive with energy. Students wore blue and white tracksuits, simple but clean, with the academy’s crest—a towering white obelisk—stitched proudly on their backs.

The hover buses, though less ornate, were sturdy and reliable, painted in bright blue with silver streaks running along their flanks. They hummed eagerly, ready for departure.

"Let’s go, team!" shouted Professor Ivana, a petite but fiery woman whose booming voice belied her size. She clapped her hands, rallying the students. "This outing is your chance to prove yourselves! Make Antrim proud!"

Students cheered and piled onto the buses, their enthusiasm infectious. Conversations bubbled over—some talked about magical spells they’d learned, others speculated wildly about what awaited in the Labyrinth Grove.

"It’s a test of courage, right? We’ve got this!" one student declared, pumping his fist.

As the buses lifted into the sky, the chatter didn’t die down. Antrim City Academy students wore their underdog status like a badge of honor.

Silvermist Academy...

The departure at Silvermist Academy was much more orderly. Known for its focus on water and defensive magics, the academy sat on the edge of a pristine lake, its reflection shimmering under the sun.

Students wore pale blue tracksuits with silver wave patterns, and their hover buses were painted in matching tones of blue and white, creating a serene image. The academy’s crest—a silver mist rising over still waters—was proudly displayed.

"Stay sharp," called out Instructor Maris, a tall woman with flowing blue hair. "The Grove is no place for complacency."

The students moved with calm efficiency, boarding the buses with quiet confidence. Sienna, a soft-spoken second year, whispered to her friend, "I hope there’s a lake in the Grove. I feel stronger when there’s water nearby."

As the buses drifted higher, the lake below sparkled in farewell.

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Stormwind Academy...

At Stormwind Academy, the departure was a chaotic mix of excitement and barely contained powers. Known for its focus on Wind and Lightning affinities, the students radiated energy—some literally, as stray sparks and gusts of wind flared around them.

Their tracksuits were stormy gray with white and blue accents, and the hover buses reflected this theme—steel gray with faint lightning patterns crackling across the surface. The academy’s crest—a tempest cloud with a lightning bolt—shone brightly.

"Watch your spells!" shouted Professor Zarin, a wiry man with wild white hair. He waved his hands to dispel a stray gust of wind conjured by an overly excited student.

"Sorry, sir!" the student called sheepishly, grinning as he scrambled onto the bus.

Amid the chaos, the lead students, often referred to as the "Storm Elite," boarded with a mix of confidence and impatience. "Let’s get going already," muttered Kael, a third year with lightning sparking at his fingertips.

As the buses rose, they crackled with faint energy, leaving trails of shimmering light as they shot through the skies.

...

All across the city, hover buses from every academy soared through the skies, their paths converging on a single location—the Teleportation Nexus.

The Nexus, located at the center of the city, was a massive circular platform suspended in midair. Runes and sigils carved into the platform’s surface glowed with a radiant multicolored light, shifting in mesmerizing patterns. Floating obelisks surrounded the platform, channeling magic from the ley lines beneath the city.