Linjos was a man in his late twenties, about 1,77 meters (5’9″) high. His ample mage robe made his build a mystery, he could as well be a mountain of muscles or thin as a stick. He had a perfectly shaven long face, a cleft chin and an aquiline nose.

His hair was chestnut brown, with shades of silver. His brow eyes were brimming with intelligence and worry. Lith could almost hear his panicking thoughts.

“Judging from the difference in treatment Lark and Distar received, he must be aware of how powerful she is at the moment. I am really curious to see how this will play out.”

The Headmaster’s bushy eyebrows were wriggling like furry worms, while he was deciding how to face the unexpected event.

“He too has a light blue mana core.” Solus observed. “He is weaker than Ainz, but stronger than anyone else we met, except for that b*tch Linnea. Blue must be the minimum requirement for the position.”

“Well, this is really embarrassing to say, dear Marchioness, but I don’t know if I can help you.” Linjos considered Linnea’s political stand bulls*it, he had fiercely opposed to her motion during the last Headmasters Council.

But he had lost, even if by a small margin. The rules were clear, he could only follow the regulations approved by the majority of the Council.