Professor Avoor stood with his fists clenched, his orange hair rustling in the faint breeze. His gaze darted over the surface of the dome as frustration grew within him. "Why Leonhardt?" he muttered, half to himself. "This feels too elaborate. Too organized. It's bigger for just one guy."
Gidon folded his arms tightly. "We already know there were assassination attempts on Leonhardt last month—disguised as bandits. We've suspected this was coming." His words struck a nerve, and the professors exchanged grim, knowing glances. They had all suspected the attack had been deliberate, but without evidence, they had remained quiet about it.
Vaelem adjusted his glasses. "Even if that's true, this isn't about one person anymore. There are fifty students inside, not just Leonhardt. Why trap them all if he's the only target?"
