Professor Ragnar

The crisp morning air nipped at Atticus' cheeks as he hurried towards the Arcane Studies building as he felt a bit of excitement bubble in his chest, a stark contrast to the dry demeanor he had assumed while in the Bloodhound Sect. Today marked his first official class, and the prospect of learning from a seasoned mage filled him with anticipation.

Reaching the imposing structure, Atticus marveled at its intricate carvings and soaring towers. It exuded power and knowledge, a beacon for aspiring arcanists. Inside, the air crackled with a nervous energy shared by his fellow first-year students. Murmurs and fidgeting filled the hallways as they navigated their way towards their respective classrooms.

He found himself in front of a massive oak door emblazoned with a swirling symbol of arcane energy. Taking a deep breath, Atticus pushed it open, stepping into a vast lecture hall. Rows of wooden benches, worn from years of eager students, faced a raised platform dominated by a large oak des
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