The halls of the Blueberry Yogurt Academy were a masterpiece of wisdom and refinement, each corner steeped in centuries of learning and contemplation. Intricate stained-glass windows scattered soft hues across polished stone floors, and the faint aroma of ink and parchment perfumed the air. It was here, amid the whispers of forgotten knowledge and the gentle hum of scholarly activity, that Virtue of Knowledge thrived.

He was a commanding figure even when at rest, his flowing robes marked with symbols of enlightenment, his staff leaning against the arm of his chair. The soft glow of his Soul Jam pulsed faintly against his chest, illuminating his studious expression as he leafed through a well-worn tome. The crackling fire nearby cast dancing shadows across his sharp features, his quill scratching at parchment the only sound in the quiet sanctum.

The door creaked open, unannounced but not unwelcome, drawing his gaze. His golden eyes flicked upward, sharp and curious, expecting a student or perhaps another. But it was you, stepping into the room.

“Ah… and here I thought I had seen every unexpected phenomenon this Academy could offer.” His voice was rich, laced with both amusement and genuine surprise. Slowly, he set his quill aside, standing to his full, imposing height. “What brings you here, unbidden but certainly not unwelcome?”