Heres this year's artfight borders! Also modified the artfight cards just a teensy bit^^ . Feel free to use em! My artfight is Novakhov is you're gonna use em >:3
In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 1
(disclaimer: I envision the academy to be more of a college setting everyone is an adult in this story)
The grand lecture hall of Blueberry Yogurt Academy was alive with the quiet rustle of parchment and the scratch of quills. Golden candlelight flickered against stained glass windows, casting soft shadows over rows of students hunched over their desks, diligently transcribing notes. The air smelled of old books, melted wax, and a faint trace of ink. You sat near the middle far enough from the front to avoid your professor’s direct scrutiny, yet not so far that you could escape his line of sight entirely. Despite your best efforts to keep up, the equations scrawled across the massive chalkboard blurred together into an indecipherable mess. Your quill hovered hesitantly over your notes, your parchment an uneven battlefield of crossed-out mistakes and half-formed thoughts. Professor Almond Custard Cookie stood at the front, the very embodiment of patience. He was a well-respected scholar, known for his gentle demeanor and dedication to his students. His robes, embroidered with constellations, shimmered faintly as he gestured toward the board, explaining the intricacies of magical resonance theory with practiced ease. “Now, if we consider the fluctuation in mana flow when exposed to unstable astral properties…” His voice was steady, warm, inviting understanding. The class nodded along, following his train of thought. You, however, found yourself lost. Again. Your parchment was a disaster. The numbers weren’t aligning, and no matter how much you tried to trace back to where you went wrong, the logic continued to slip through your grasp. You tapped your quill against the desk, willing the knowledge to take root in your mind.
“Let’s test our understanding,” professor Almond Custard Cookie said, turning toward the class. “If one were to stabilize a fluctuating mana field under a lunar eclipse, what key principle must be applied to prevent collapse?” A silence hung in the air, the pause filled only by the quiet shifting of students preparing to answer. You ducked your head slightly, praying someone else would speak first. But then…“(y/n) cookie, why don’t you give it a try?” Your stomach twisted into a knot. You could feel the weight of every gaze turning toward you, the quiet anticipation of your classmates pressing down. You swallowed, your throat dry. You scrambled for an answer, flipping through your notes in desperation. You knew you had studied this. You had read the chapter, listened to the lectures. But now, under you professor’s expectant gaze, your thoughts tangled into a panicked blur. “I, um… Is it… increasing the leyline attunement?” you ventured, your voice barely above a whisper. A pause. Professor Almond Custard Cookie gave a long, measured sigh. Not of anger, nor disappointment, just exhaustion. The kind that had been building for weeks. “Not quite,” he said gently, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We’ve gone over this concept multiple times. Think back to last week’s lecture on celestial harmonics. You need to apply?...” You stared at him, wide-eyed, willing the answer to come. It didn’t. “The Principle of Arcane Equilibrium,” another student chimed in smoothly. “Exactly,” your professor said with a nod. He turned back to the board, seamlessly continuing the lesson, but the damage was done. You sank lower in your seat, heat creeping up your neck. Another mistake. Another moment where you had failed to grasp something that seemed so simple to everyone else. You risked a glance around, noting how some students had already returned to their notes, while others still cast you sideways glances. The rest of the lecture dragged painfully onward, your mind struggling to keep up, your parchment becoming messier with each passing minute.
The lecture hall hums with quiet murmurs as professor Almond Custard Cookie wraps up the day's lesson. Parchment rustles, chairs creak, and students shuffle about, eager to flee the suffocating weight of academia. Yet, you remain firmly in your seat, your stomach twisting into knots as you recognize the familiar look of mild disappointment in Professor Almond Custard Cookie’s eyes. “Stay behind,” he instructs, his voice measured yet firm. You swallow hard, nodding as you watch your classmates file out. Some cast sympathetic glances, others remain indifferent, and a few are too absorbed in their own work to even notice. The moment the last student disappears through the doorway, the room falls into silence. Your professor exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning his sharp yet patient gaze onto you. “This is becoming a pattern,” he begins, his tone even but laced with exhaustion. “Your understanding of today’s lesson was…” He trails off, searching for the right word. “Lacking.” You offer a small, sheepish smile, hoping to lighten the mood. “I prefer ‘in progress.’” Your professor merely raises a brow. “If I thought humor could salvage your grasp on theoretical constructs, I’d let you continue. But we both know that isn’t the case.” Your smile falters. “I… I really am trying.” His sigh is not unkind, but it carries the weight of repeated conversations just like this one. “I know you are. And I admire that. But effort without direction is like wandering a maze blindfolded. You need guidance.” His expression softens ever so slightly. “That’s why we’re here.”
You nod, the weight of his words settling in your chest. It’s not that you don’t want to improve..it’s that no matter how hard you try, the knowledge always seems just out of reach. It slips through your grasp like water through your fingers, tauntingly close yet impossible to hold. Professor Almond Custard Cookie begins asking questions, reviewing concepts you had fumbled with earlier in class. You do your best to keep up, to piece together the fragmented bits of knowledge floating around in your head, but your responses are riddled with hesitation. Every answer feels uncertain, the words sticking to your tongue with the distinct flavor of doubt. With each incorrect response, his patience, while still present, grows thinner. “Again,” he instructs. You try. You really try. But the answer slips away from you once more. A heavy silence stretches between you, thick with frustration. Both yours and the professor’s. He exhales slowly, rubbing his temples before straightening. “We need a different approach. Clearly, repetition isn’t working. Perhaps-” The door creaks open. A voice, smooth and measured, laced with an unmistakable curiosity, fills the space. “Ah, Professor. I was hoping to catch you.” You stiffen.
Standing in the doorway is none other than Shadow Milk Cookie, the Sage of Truth himself. Your heart lurches. You’ve never seen him in person before. He is a figure of legend within academic circles, a scholar whose intellect is unmatched, whose wisdom is sought by the greatest minds in the Academy. A beacon of knowledge. A paragon of truth. And now he stands before you. His heterochromatic gaze sweeps the room before settling on the professor. “I have been wrestling with a theorem,” he continues, stepping inside, the door closing behind him with a soft click. “And while I am confident in my deductions, I would value your insight.” Professor Almond Custard Cookie, who had moments ago been at the end of his patience, now straightens, the weariness in his eyes momentarily lifting. “Shadow Milk Cookie,” he greets. “Your timing is impeccable.”
Your stomach churns. Of all times for such a revered figure to appear, why now? Why, when you’re floundering under scrutiny, your academic inadequacies laid bare? Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze flickers to you, curious but not unkind. “Ah. A student?” your professor nods. “One in need of assistance.” Your face burns. “I’ll figure it out,” you blurt out hastily, gripping the edges of your parchment as if it might shield you from their gazes. “Really, I don’t want to waste your time.” Shadow Milk Cookie tilts his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “A curious notion,” he muses. “Knowledge is never a waste of time.” Your fingers tighten around the parchment. It’s hard to breathe under the weight of his presence. He teaches only the brightest, engages in discussions so profound that even your professor would hesitate before challenging him. What could he possibly gain from helping someone like you? Your professor, sensing your hesitation, sighs. “Shadow Milk, perhaps you…” “I would be delighted to assist,” the Sage of Truth interjects smoothly. “If you would permit me, of course.”
You hesitate, anxiety curling in your stomach. “I… I don’t know if I” “You are struggling,” he states plainly, though not unkindly. “That is evident. But struggling alone is folly. Allow me to help. Perhaps, in doing so, I too shall learn something new.” You freeze. He, a renowned scholar, thinks he could learn from you? Professor Almond Custard Cookie sighs once more but nods. “Very well. Let’s see how this plays out.” Shadow Milk Cookie settles beside you, exuding a quiet confidence that is neither overwhelming nor condescending. “Let’s begin,” he says, his voice smooth and patient. “Tell me where you are lost.” You swallow hard. This is going to be a long evening.
Shadow Milk Cookie’s…no, the Sage of Truth’s voice was smooth and composed as he spoke, his words woven with certainty. His mismatched eyes gleamed with an almost knowing amusement, yet his demeanor remained calm, far from the theatrical arrogance whispered about in the Academy halls. Despite that, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. He was someone who taught the highest scholars those with brilliant minds that grasped complex theories with ease, not someone who wasted time on students like you. And yet, here you were, sitting across from him, hands gripping the edge of your desk so tightly your fingers ached. “I understand that this may seem overwhelming,” the Sage of Truth said, his tone gentle, as though he sensed the weight of your unease. “But the key to knowledge is patience, and patience is something I have in abundance.”
You swallowed hard, keeping your head low. “I um, I appreciate it, but…” Your voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “Surely you have more important things to do, especially with the title you hold. You don’t have to waste your time with me.” Your professor who had been silent for the past few moments exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “For the love of-...(y/n) cookie, he’s offering to help you. Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.” You flinched at the exasperation in his tone and turned your gaze toward him in silent pleading. Please let me go. Professor Almond Custard Cookie only gave you a look that said, absolutely not. The Sage of Truth rested his chin on his hand, watching you with measured interest. “I see…” he mused. “You hold great reverence for me, yet that reverence manifests as avoidance.” He tilted his head slightly. “Tell me, do you think knowledge is only for the most gifted?” You hesitated before answering. “N-No, but… I’m not…” You clenched your fists, feeling heat creep up your neck. “I’m not like the others who study under you. I can’t even grasp the basics of what Professor Almond Custard Cookie teaches me. It’d be a waste of your time to”
“Nonsense.” His interruption was firm yet kind. “All who seek truth are worthy of learning. If you are struggling, then that is simply the nature of learning. You are no less deserving of knowledge than those who excel with ease.” The conviction in his voice left you stunned. Your professor sighed, standing and stretching out his back. “Honestly, if anyone can get through to you, it’d be him,” he muttered before making his way toward his bookshelf. You, however, were still tense, unsure of how to respond to the Sage of Truth. Your heart pounded in your chest, an odd mixture of admiration and anxiety weighing heavily on you. “I” You paused, unsure how to address him without sounding foolish. You had never once uttered his name, not even in passing conversation with others. It felt too improper, too intimate, for someone of his stature. Instead, you swallowed your nerves and whispered, “I don’t want to trouble you.”
He smiled slightly, shaking his head. “It is no trouble. But if you feel so strongly about it…” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “Then prove me wrong.” Your breath hitched. “Prove to me that my time is wasted. That you are beyond help.” His tone was almost challenging, yet the warmth in his voice remained. “Show me that you cannot learn, and I shall leave you be.” It was an impossible challenge. And he knew it. You bit your lip, feeling trapped. No matter what, there was no way to argue against the Sage of Truth. “…Where do we start?” You finally whispered. His smile widened just a fraction. “Excellent.” You looked at him confused…did he not hear your question? No matter you let it go, after all you’re in no position to question anything.
A/N I forgot to post this last night LOL please enjoy this will be a slow burn so bear with me <3
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