Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

Amidst the exhilarating match, Ashfield couldn't help but beam with pride as he watched his players perform really well. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, with the echoes of the crowd's cheers still reverberating through the stadium.

Beside him sat the headmistress of Dauxmarth Academy, a formidable woman dressed in an attire that exuded both dominance and confidence.

She sported leather pants paired with a sleek blazer that cascaded down to her thighs. A crisp white shirt provided a stark contrast to her ash blonde hair, neatly pulled back into a ponytail. Her sky-blue eyes, sharp and observant, were fixed on the field below, where the two exceptional players had displayed their talents.

Leaning closer to Ashfield, she ventured, "Is he the bastard prince?" Her words hung in the air, a direct inquiry that caught Ashfield off guard. The color drained from his face, a mixture of surprise and apprehension washing over him.

The revelation of Jaegar's royal lineage was known only in the academy, and Ashfield was keen on protecting that secret, especially for Jaegar's safety. Although he wanted it to be a secret, the word may have already gotten around.

Stammering slightly, Ashfield replied, "Wh-what are you saying?" He hoped to deflect her attention, cautious not to let the truth slip and risk exposing Jaegar's true identity to others. But his efforts proved futile as Arthur, who had been listening in, seemed to catch on.

With a knowing look, Arthur chimed in, "Oh, that boy. No wonder he seemed familiar. He does carry both his parents' looks." The confirmation of Jaegar's heritage startled Ashfield, a realization that his attempts to keep Jaegar's royal connection hidden might have been in vain. It appeared that Carl, who had met Jaegar before, had divulged his encounter to Arthur.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, and he continued to study Jaegar's form on the field. "Tell me, Ashfield, how is he as a student? Do you believe he has the potential to become a promising wizard?" His gaze was focused, searching for insight into Jaegar's character and abilities.

Ashfield's lips curved into a wry smile, a mixture of pride and amusement evident in his expression. "Yes," he replied with unwavering confidence. "He possesses remarkable skills and determination. He's proven himself time and again." Ashfield's belief in Jaegar's capabilities was unshakable, a proof of the young man's growth and accomplishments.

Arthur's gaze lingered on Jaegar a moment longer before he sighed, his features reflecting a blend of hope and expectation. "I hope so," he murmured, his thoughts remaining unknown.

With that, Carl, who had been observing the interaction quietly, made his exit from the scene, his footsteps fading as he moved away.

Others also joined in the conservation, talking about various other things and diverting the topic of Jaegar.

Morana turned to Ashfield and revealed a smirk. Ashfield could only sigh, not able to do anything at this point. She had deliberately brought up Jaegar.

Back on the field,

Denica deftly maneuvered the ball, attempting to outwit Jaegar's efforts to steal it away. It was a dance of skill, strategy, and raw power as both players battled for control.

With each swift movement, Denica showcased her finesse and quick thinking, leaving Jaegar momentarily stunned. However, he quickly regained his composure and retaliated with a burst of speed and precision. The spectators held their breath, captivated by the intensity of the match unfolding before them.

Meanwhile, Parkar was locked in a fierce competition with Milos. The two forwards engaged in a dynamic duel, their footwork a blur as they jockeyed for position. Each touch of the ball was met with a countermove, and the crowd was treated to a display of athletic finesse that left them on the edge of their seats.

Amid the fervor of the match, Denica emerged as a central figure in the unfolding drama. The ball, passed skillfully by Milos, found its way to her.

With an impressive display of her power, Denica leaped into the air, her lithe form spinning gracefully as she executed a perfectly timed kick.

The impact resonated with a powerful thud as her foot connected with the ball, propelling it forward with remarkable force.

The ball shot forth, a streak of energy hurtling toward the goal. Denica's precision was astounding; her technique was seamless and fluid as she harnessed her body's momentum to deliver an electrifying strike. But what set this shot apart was the element of magic that accompanied it.

As the ball raced toward the net, an ethereal transformation occurred. Chill ice sparkles erupted around it, encasing the ball in a shimmering halo of frost. The once mundane soccer ball had now become a glacial spectacle, imbued with a magical aura that lent an otherworldly quality to the moment.

The opposing goalkeeper, despite his best efforts, found himself unable to thwart the trajectory of the ball. His desperate dive was a futile attempt to intercept the frozen projectile, but the ball evaded his grasp, bypassing his outstretched fingertips and leaving a trail of frost in its wake.

The spectators held their collective breath, their cheers momentarily suspended in the air, as they watched the ball's journey unfold.

And then, with a final burst of momentum, the transformed ball breached the goalkeeper's defense.

The net rippled and quivered as the ball collided with it, creating an explosion of sound and movement that resonated throughout the stadium. The magical momentum carried the ball past the goal line, and a triumphant roar erupted from the crowd as the scoreboard registered the addition of a point to Denica's team.

In the wake of this spectacular goal, the atmosphere was charged with awe and admiration.

Denica's unique blend of physical prowess and magical finesse had resulted in a moment of pure astonishment.