Chapter 3: The Ancient Text and the Highest Access

The room fell into a dead silence, so quiet she could hear her own heart pounding like a drum.

Adèle covered her mouth, her face ashen as she stared at the three dead mice on the floor, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Klein’s gaze returned to Lia.

“That ancient text. Besides mentioning it was poisonous, what else did it say?”

Lia forced down the frantic beating of her heart.

She knew the real test was just beginning.

“It said quite a bit, but I don’t remember everything.” She lowered her gaze, feigning an effort to recall the details as she carefully chose her words. The book was too tattered. Many parts were illegible, the writing faded and blurred.

The book said that the yellowish-green gas was not only highly toxic to living things but could also corrode metal. Ironware, in particular, would rust quickly when exposed, as if time itself were accelerating its decay.”

This was the strong oxidizing property of chlorine gas.

Klein listened in silence.

Lia continued, “It also said the gas is heavier than air and sinks like a mist. That’s why the book warned that if you were to create it in a sealed room, you should stand on high ground, or you’d be engulfed by the toxic fog.”

She paused for a moment before adding, “The book even had a crude drawing. It said that to avoid being poisoned, you should cover your mouth and nose with a cloth soaked in ‘alkaline water.’ You know… the water you get from soaking the ashes left after burning firewood.”

Using wood ash water—a potassium carbonate solution—to absorb chlorine gas was the most primitive yet effective homespun method.

In one breath, she presented all the knowledge she could think of that fit the cognitive level of this era, packaging it all as content from an ancient text.

The grimoire before Klein flipped open on its own, and a quill pen levitated into the air, rapidly scribbling something onto the page.

“Corrodes metal, heavier than air, can be absorbed by alkaline water.” He repeated the words softly, as if chewing on their meaning. “Master Lavoisier’s papers made no mention of any of this.”

He looked up, his gaze locking onto Lia once more, his deep blue eyes gleaming.

“Did the book say how to separate and collect this gas?”

This was the question that concerned him most.

For a mage in this world, a completely new gas with such unique properties was of incalculable value. It could even pioneer an entirely new school of magic.

“Yes.” Lia nodded immediately, breathing a small sigh of relief internally.

She knew he would ask.

“The book had a diagram of a strange apparatus. It used a bent tube to guide the gas into another bottle, which was inverted in a trough of water. As the gas entered, it would displace the water.”

Collection of gas by displacement of water.

“But the book specifically noted that the gas is slightly soluble in water, so there would be some loss during collection.”

Watching Klein’s increasingly focused gaze, she delivered the final, crucial piece of information.

“The best way is to collect it using the same kind of saltwater as the experimental liquid. The book said this was a way to trick it with its own kind, leaving it with nowhere to dissolve.”

Collecting chlorine gas over a saturated saline solution to reduce its solubility in water.

Having said all this, Lia fell silent.

She had provided more than enough substance to prove she wasn’t spouting nonsense.

The look in Klein’s eyes changed completely.

If at first it was scrutiny and suspicion, now it was the fervent excitement of someone who had just discovered a new continent.

Adèle stood to the side, hardly daring to breathe. She looked at the familiar, research-absorbed expression on her mentor’s face, then at the new junior who had stirred up a storm in less than half a day, and her mind went completely blank.

“Excellent.”

With a wave of his hand, the mess on the lab bench was once again cleared away by an unseen force. The cage with the dead mice flew into a waste bin in the corner, and the U-tube and other instruments returned to their proper places.

“Adèle.”

“Yes, Mentor!” Adèle jumped, immediately straightening her posture.

“Take her to the easternmost room on the third floor; that will be her dormitory. Explain the tower’s rules and daily schedule to her clearly.”

Klein’s attention had already shifted completely from Lia, returning to the experimental apparatus.

His mind was clearly consumed with how to improve the experiment and verify the properties Lia had described.

“Also,” he added without turning his head, “from this day forward, Lia has the highest level of access to the second-floor library. All books are open to her, including the restricted section.”

Adèle’s eyes flew wide open, her jaw dropping unconsciously, almost wide enough to fit an egg.

‘Highest access? The restricted section?’

That was a place only the Mentor himself and graduated apprentices who had made immense contributions to the tower were allowed to enter! This Lia had only been here for a day, had done nothing, and she was already granted such a privilege?

She didn’t understand, but she didn’t dare to ask.

“Yes… I understand.”

“You may go.”

Klein waved his hand dismissively.

He walked over to his desk and spread out a blank sheet of parchment. The quill pen hovered by his hand, shimmering with a faint light, clearly ready to begin drafting a new paper at a moment’s notice.

Adèle gave a respectful bow, then stiffly tugged on Lia’s sleeve, gesturing for her to follow.

As they stepped out of the room, the heavy door swung shut behind them on its own.

In the hallway, Adèle’s steps were unsteady. She glanced sideways at Lia several times, her expression a tangled mess of shock, curiosity, and a lingering trace of awe.

The superior air she held as the senior apprentice had completely vanished.

“Who… Who exactly are you?” she finally managed to ask, her voice light and ethereal.

“Just Lia.” Lia blinked, the picture of innocence. “A new student who just enrolled, Senior.”

Adèle clearly didn’t buy it, and the corner of her mouth twitched.

‘Would an ordinary new student dare to barge in and ruin an archmage’s experiment? Would an ordinary new student know dangerous information not even recorded in the *Theories of Magic*? Would an ordinary new student make Mentor Klein break precedent and open the restricted section?’

‘Is that reasonable? It’s not reasonable at all!’

“What you said… did you really read all that in an old book?” Adèle lowered her voice, as if afraid the walls were listening.

“Of course.” Lia’s expression was unflinching. “How else would I know? I couldn’t have just made it up, could I?”

Adèle fell silent.

She couldn’t find a reason to refute it. Besides that explanation, there seemed to be no other possibility. Perhaps this unassuming junior truly was just incredibly lucky and had happened upon an ancient text containing lost knowledge.

The two descended the spiral staircase in silence.

When they reached the third floor, Adèle led her down the length of the hallway to a door at the very end.

“This is it.”

She pushed the door open, and a faint smell of dust greeted them. The room wasn’t large, but it had all the essentials: a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a private washroom. A large window overlooked the academy’s central garden, offering a rather splendid view.

“This is one of the best apprentice rooms in the tower.” Adèle’s voice was still a bit strained. “Senior Fiona used to live here. It’s been vacant ever since she graduated.”

“Wake up at six for morning practice, breakfast at seven, lectures and self-study from eight until four in the afternoon. Be back in the dormitory by nine at night, and curfew is at ten.

The weekly quizzes, monthly exams, and all those reports… you should already be aware of all that. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can find me in the second-floor library.”

Lia nodded. “Thank you, Senior Adèle.”

She said ‘Senior’ with genuine sincerity. Regardless, she had finally managed to secure a place for herself in this godforsaken tower.

Adèle’s expression softened slightly. Looking at Lia’s youthful face, not yet fully matured, and her small frame, she found it impossible to reconcile this image with the scholar who had boldly confronted their mentor and spoken with such eloquence just moments before.

“Get yourself settled in. And remember, don’t you ever provoke the Mentor again. Today… you were just lucky.”

With that, she turned and hurried away, her departing figure looking almost flustered.

Lia closed the door and leaned back against it, letting out a long, slow breath. Her muscles instantly went slack, and only then did she realize her back was drenched in a cold sweat.

‘The gamble paid off.’

She walked to the window and pushed it open. The cool evening breeze drifted in, clearing her muddled thoughts.

Outside, the sun was slowly setting, casting a golden fringe upon the countless mage towers in the distance.