Maxwell massaged his brow with a patient yet exhausted headshake. "Listen here, Adam. The performance of the House of Exorcism worsened year after year compared to the other two. Let's set personal talent aside to focus on measurable metrics. Do you have the numbers? Last I checked, there were five transmuters and ten invokers for each exorcist. Even if we factor talent back in, to win the competition, each one of you must outperform fifteen students. Of course, there are mediocre ones, but do you believe your house has none?"
His eyes narrowed into solemn slits, his voice heavy with advice that sounded genuine to Adam. "If you insist on challenging ten students, if you lose ten thousand five hundred points today, only a miracle, and that's a euphemism, can help your House compete with the other two. So, for the last time—are you sure?"
"Framed like that..." Adam scratched the back of his neck, the corner of his lips curving.
