Chapter 79: The Epoch-Making Thesis

The next morning.

The moment Lia produced her completed thesis, Adèle practically snatched it from her hands.

As she read it word for word, her eyes grew increasingly luminous, and her breathing quickened in tandem.

Klein offered no prompt.

Only after Adèle had finished did he take the still-warm manuscript from her hands, which trembled with barely suppressed excitement.

He perused it with meticulous attention, his gaze slowly traversing each line of text, until his movement of turning the page paused upon reaching the final section of acknowledgments.

“…His formidable magic served as an unyielding bulwark, allowing for the expedition to unfold.”

Klein’s fingertip brushed lightly over the line, and the corners of his lips subtly curved upward.

He lifted his gaze to Lia.

“Well written,” he commended.

After speaking, he placed the manuscript on the table, his fingertip gently tapping the parchment.

A soft magical glow flickered, and a fresh sheet of parchment materialized beside it, as the inkwell and quill from the table floated over, swiftly commencing the flawless transcription of the entire thesis.

“I will make a trip to the Magic Association later,” Klein announced, picking up the duplicated copy once the transcription was complete.

“I shall go to submit this epoch-making thesis.”

***

The Royal Magic Association, Department of Theoretical Review.

The moment Klein’s figure appeared, the reception staff paused in stunned silence.

The young mage at the reception desk, beholding the renowned Grand Archmage of the Human Circle before him, was so overcome with nervousness that he could barely articulate a coherent word.

“M-M-Master Klein, do… do you have any instructions?”

Klein placed the parchment copy onto the table, stating succinctly, “A thesis on elemental studies. Please process it via the express channel.”

The young mage dared not show the slightest hint of sluggishness.

With trembling hands, he accepted the manuscript, instinctively preparing to follow the standard procedure.

Just then, the office door burst open with a resounding ‘clatter,’ as an old man in luxurious robes strode in with a bluster.

“Klein, I saw you arrive! Did that little girl Lia make another groundbreaking discovery?”

The newcomer was none other than Horace.

His eyes immediately fell upon the manuscript on the table, then darted to Klein’s impassive face.

“Oh? Is this your new thesis, then? No… the handwriting! This belongs to that little girl!”

Horace’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Let me see it! I’m eager to discover what earth-shattering computational methods she’s concocted this time!”

The young mage looked troubled. “Master Horace, this… this isn’t according to protocol…”

“Protocol?”

Horace’s eyes widened. “I, the venerable Grand Archmage of the Ninth Circle and Vice-Chairman of the Theoretical Review Council, personally reviewing a thesis—what could possibly be out of protocol? Do you perhaps believe I wouldn’t comprehend it?!”

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant…”

Klein glanced at Horace, offering no objection.

“If you are willing, then all the better.”

Horace, with a triumphant air, took the manuscript from the young mage’s hands, wearing an expression that clearly conveyed, ‘See how much deference I grant you?’

The young mage wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, quietly reminding him, “Master Horace, this thesis… appears to be in the field of elemental studies.”

Horace’s smug smile froze on his face.

‘Elemental’? Not mathematics?

He felt his elderly dignity slipping, yet having already spoken, he couldn’t possibly retract his words.

He cleared his throat, adopted an air of profound inscrutability, and turned to depart, carrying the manuscript behind his back.

“What if it’s elemental studies? All laws converge into one; the underlying logic is always mathematics! There’s no harm in me taking a look.”

Observing Horace’s rigid retreating figure, the young mage’s face was etched with bewilderment.

Horace exited the office, letting out a long sigh, and muttered under his breath, “That little girl, always causing me trouble…”

As he walked along the association’s internal corridor, he casually flipped open the thesis in his hands.

Initially, he merely intended a cursory glance.

However, as revolutionary concepts such as ‘atomic weight’ and ‘periodic law of elements’ met his gaze, his footsteps unconsciously began to slow.

Upon encountering the meticulously drawn periodic table of elements, he halted completely, standing rooted to the spot, his expression visibly growing solemn.

He turned the pages one by one, until he finally reached Lia’s impassioned declaration and the subsequent acknowledgments.

His gaze arrested when he saw the acknowledgment section at the thesis’s conclusion.

Gradually, his wife’s face began to surface in his mind.

This thesis, this entirely new framework… wasn’t this precisely what she had painstakingly sought for over a decade?

A brilliant idea flashed through his mind.

‘What if I present this to her without revealing the author, letting her believe I went to great lengths to uncover it… Heh heh!’

With meticulous care, he extracted the title page bearing the author’s signature and the final page containing the acknowledgments.

After neatly folding them, he slipped them into his inner pocket.

Then, he turned and walked in a direction entirely opposite to that of his study.

***

Within a greenhouse bathed in sunlight and fragrant with blossoms, a noblewoman in an elegant gown meticulously tended to a blooming Starflower.

Her demeanor was gentle yet intellectual, and faint magical fluctuations shimmered around her, a testament to her formidable power as an Eighth-Circle Archmage.

“What brings you here today?” the noblewoman inquired without turning, her voice as warm as a spring breeze. “Has your experiment to precisely measure acceleration finally shown progress?”

Horace walked to her side, offering the thesis in his hand, a hint of awkwardness on his face.

“Ahem, that can wait. Take a look at this first.”

The noblewoman, revealed to be Horace’s wife, Eleonora, turned her head with a touch of surprise.

She set down her small floral shears and accepted the thesis.

“A thesis on elements? Why the sudden interest in this now?” Eleonora teased. “I thought your world currently revolved solely around experiments and that acceleration.”

“Less chatter, just read it,” Horace urged, an imperceptible tremor in his voice.

Noting her husband’s serious demeanor, which suggested he was not jesting, Eleonora set aside her playful thoughts and began to read intently.

“’On the Periodic Laws of Elements and the Fundamental Elemental Table’… Quite an audacious title,” she murmured softly, then was immediately captivated by the contents of the introduction.

Horace remained silent, standing to the side, his gaze fixed intently on his wife’s face, observing every subtle shift in her expression.

He, of course, fully comprehended the thesis.

His self-devised Eighth-Circle spell, ‘Elemental Disintegration,’ was, in fact, founded upon a profound understanding of the very essence of elements.

Consequently, he understood more clearly than anyone else the immensely profound implications this thesis held.

His wife, Eleonora, had long been one of the kingdom’s foremost elemental mages, yet she had been confined to the apex of the Eighth Circle for a full fifty years.

She had dedicated half a lifetime of effort, striving to uncover an ultimate theory capable of unifying all elemental magic factions, only to be perpetually obstructed by an unseen veil of mystery.

Now, Horace sensed that the torch capable of dispelling that mist might very well be clutched within his own hand.

This thesis, this groundbreaking theoretical framework, could very well be the pivotal key to helping Eleonora take that final step and ascend to the Ninth Circle!

Having Eleonora review and endorse this thesis was but one aspect of his plan.

His true aspiration was for his wife, through this rare and opportune moment, to glimpse that supreme vista!

Time elapsed, moment by moment.

The greenhouse fell silent, save for the soft rustle of Eleonora turning the parchment pages.

Her expression transitioned from initial scrutiny to astonishment, then to profound shock, and finally, transmuted into the fervor of one who had encountered ultimate truth.

Her hands trembled faintly.

“Periods… groups… the periodic recurrence of properties…” she murmured to herself, her eyes gleaming with a brilliant light.

“So this is it… Everything is ordered! All the elements we have ever discovered can find their place within this table!”

When she encountered the precise predictions concerning unknown elements further on, a short gasp escaped her lips.

“Predictions… The author has made such precise predictions about the unknown! — Heavens, this isn’t speculation; this is a declaration!”

Finally, she had absorbed all the content.

Eleonora closed the parchment, her chest heaving dramatically.

She looked at Horace, her eyes alight with an unprecedented mix of excitement and longing.

“Horace, is there any way for me to meet this author?!”

Horace assumed a mysterious expression. He sat on a chair beside Eleonora, lowering his voice as he spoke.

“I’ve mentioned the author of this thesis to you before. Can you guess who it is? If you guess correctly, I’ll take you to meet her. But if you guess wrong…”

Eleonora slowly moved behind Horace, her soft fingers gently resting on his shoulders, kneading them with just the right amount of pressure.

She leaned down, her warm breath caressing Horace’s ear.

“What happens if I guess wrong, my dear?”

“If you guess wrong, there will be a punishment! As for the punishment… I’ll decide it later!”

Horace’s eyes glazed over, lost in a delightful fantasy.

“Alright then,” Eleonora’s voice grew increasingly moist, and her movements became even gentler. “Now, tell me who it is. I truly can’t guess.”

“It’s little Lia, the one I told you about last time! Klein’s new apprentice, whom he stumbled upon through sheer dumb luck.”

Horace spoke with an expression of pure enjoyment.

The air fell silent for a moment, and Horace seemed to realize something.

He tightly closed his eyes, appearing to suddenly enter a state of meditation.

Unfortunately, his inability to see did not mean that time ceased to flow.

The gentle fingers on his shoulders quietly withdrew, but the soft body behind him pressed closer.

His wife’s faint voice reached his ear, carrying a hint of dangerous amusement: “My dear, you just… seemed to mention… a punishment?”

Horace’s body began to stiffen.

He abruptly opened his eyes, and a teleportation gate frantically ripped open before him.

Without a backward glance, he plunged through it, leaving only a single sentence echoing in the room.

“I just remembered Laplace needs me urgently; I’m off!”

Eleonora did not stop him, merely watching the teleportation gate vanish.

With a flick of her wrist, two sheets of parchment silently appeared in her hand.

“Hmph, still playing these little tricks at such an age.”

Eleonora rearranged the thesis, her gaze falling upon the author’s signature as she spoke with a faint smile.

The room once again descended into silence, broken only by the soft rustle of pages being gently turned.