Chapter 13: A Monstrous Talent

From that day forward, Lia’s life settled into a terrifyingly consistent rhythm.

In the mornings, Klein would personally instruct her in the fundamentals of magic.

In the afternoons, she would dictate the contents of her thesis with Adèle by her side.

And in the evenings, she meditated.

Initially, Lia had worried that, as a physics Ph.D., she would struggle to grasp a completely different system of magic.

But she soon realized she had been overthinking it.

“A standard ‘force-field push’ model is, in essence, the construction of a directional repulsive field using spiritual energy. The field’s intensity determines the spell’s power. Your task is to precisely control the output of your spiritual energy and stabilize the field’s structure.”

Klein stood in the center of the room, a complex model composed of arcane runes hovering over his palm.

Lia tilted her head, studying it for a long moment. ‘Isn’t this just drawing a free-body diagram and calculating F=ma?’ she thought. ‘The field’s intensity is F, the spiritual energy output is the quantification of F, and stabilizing the structure just means ensuring the force’s direction remains constant.’

“I’ll give it a try.”

She held out her small hand, closed her eyes, and swiftly constructed a mechanics model in her mind.

Then, she summoned the faint magic within her, channeling it into the model as ‘work’.

A low hum filled the air.

The air before her shimmered with a slight distortion as a translucent, structurally perfect repulsive field materialized in an instant.

A quill on a nearby table was pushed by this field, gliding smoothly to the edge of the desk—not a fraction more, not a hair less.

Klein remained motionless, still in his lecturing stance.

Standing to the side, Adèle let her notebook slip from her grasp, and it fell to the floor with a thud.

She picked up the notebook, her eyes moving from Lia’s innocent face—which seemed to ask, ‘Was that supposed to be difficult?’—to the miserable memory of her own past, where she had practiced for a full month just to stabilize her first force-field model.

Her entire career as a mage suddenly felt like a joke.

The learning ability Lia displayed could no longer be described as genius; it was monstrous.

For any magical model Klein taught, as soon as he finished explaining the principles, Lia could instantly find a corresponding explanation in her ‘ancient texts’ and then, with astonishing speed, construct the most stable and efficient spell structure.

She could see through the essence of magic from a scientific perspective.

The afternoon thesis-writing sessions, meanwhile, became a lesson in cognitive restructuring for Adèle.

“Adèle, we need a new paragraph here,” Lia said, leaning over the table as she directed the furiously writing Adèle. “The abstract is done. Now it’s time for the introduction.”

“Introduction? What’s that?”

“It’s where you introduce the research background. For example, you discuss the old belief that heavier objects fall faster, how long that theory has been around, and what impact it’s had. Then you point out the potential problems with that theory, which leads into our new perspective.”

Adèle nodded, only half-understanding, and continued writing as Lia dictated.

After the introduction came the theoretical derivation, followed by the experimental design, results and discussion, and finally, the conclusion.

The entire structure was clear and logical, progressing step by step like a precision-crafted chain of reasoning.

It perfectly encapsulated the five formulas and the inclined plane experiment, presenting them with an irrefutable, harmonious beauty.

Klein would occasionally stop by to check on their progress.

He never said a word, simply picking up the finished parchment and reading it page by page.

The more he read, the more the lines on his usually expressionless face softened.

‘This method of presentation… it’s simply elegant.’

‘Each section served its purpose perfectly, dissecting a revolutionary theory with such clarity that any intelligent reader could grasp its logic and appreciate its greatness.’

“Excellent.”

A week later, gazing at the final, bound copy of the thesis, Klein uttered a single word.

He then placed the manuscript into an enchanted leather folder.

“Master, are you going to…” Lia asked cautiously.

“The Magic Association,” Klein said, adjusting his mage robes.

“So soon?” Lia’s heart leaped into her throat.

“Truth should not be made to wait.” Klein walked to the door, then paused and looked back at her. “Stay in the tower until I return.”

“Oh.”

It was only after Klein left that Lia belatedly remembered something.

“Adèle, did I miss the monthly exam?”

Adèle, who was tidying the papers on the desk, looked up at her with a very complicated expression.

“The Master said you don’t need to.”

“Huh?”

“He said that making you take those tests would be an insult to your intelligence.”

Lia blinked, unsure how to react. ‘Was that a compliment?’ she wondered. ‘Why does it sound so strange coming from Klein?’

With Klein gone, life inside the mage tower became a little more relaxed.

It was during this time that Lia met the tower’s other three ‘residents,’ besides herself and Adèle.

They were all senior students, older than Adèle.

The men were scruffy and listless, while the women fared slightly better.

Seeing the new little girl, they all wore expressions of pity.

“Little junior, try not to take it too hard,” a senior named Martin advised her earnestly. “There’s no shame in not being able to graduate. Look at us—we’re all still here, aren’t we?”

Lia glanced at the open book in front of him, which showed a diagram of a complex lever system next to a pile of tedious calculations.

‘Isn’t this just a torque equilibrium problem from middle school physics?’

“Senior Martin, your calculation here is wrong,” Lia couldn’t help but point out. “For the length of this lever arm, you should be using the perpendicular distance to the fulcrum.”

Martin froze.

He looked down at his calculations, then back at Lia, and scratched at his already thinning hair.

“Is… is that right?”

Lia sighed, picked up a quill, and quickly rewrote the formula for him.

A problem that had stumped Senior Martin for three days was solved.

From then on, Lia’s status within the mage tower underwent a subtle change.

The held-back seniors no longer looked at her with pity, but with awe.

Whenever they encountered a problem they couldn’t solve, they were too intimidated to ask the strict Adèle, so they all came to Lia instead.

Lia was happy to have something to do and would occasionally help Adèle answer their questions.

In Klein’s absence, Adèle was the tower’s highest authority.

At the end of the month, it was once again time for the monthly apprentice test.

Adèle was so busy preparing the exam papers and setting up the room that she was practically run off her feet.

“Lia, do me a favor.” She shoved a thick stack of parchment into Lia’s arms.

“What’s this?”

“You’re proctoring today’s test.”

Lia looked down at the exam papers in her arms, then at the seniors sitting primly in the examination hall—all of them, on average, a full decade older than her.

She was completely dumbfounded.

‘Her? A proctor?’

‘What kind of joke is this!’

But Adèle gave her no chance to refuse, plopping her down in the chair at the front of the room before rushing off to handle other matters.

And so, a truly fantastical scene unfolded in the history of the Royal Magic Academy.

A little girl, not even as tall as the desks, with the delicate features of a porcelain doll, sat primly at the very front of the examination hall.

Before her sat a group of men and women, with an average age of over twenty-five, tearing their hair out over a question about ‘how to calculate the optimal point of force application for a magical servant moving a heavy object’.

Lia swung her short legs, which couldn’t reach the floor, and watched them with an air of boredom.

‘This feeling…’

‘It’s pretty great.’

She rested her chin in one hand, watching Senior Martin get stuck yet again on a calculation problem involving projectile motion, sweating profusely with anxiety.

‘These poor souls.’

Lia felt not a ripple of sympathy; in fact, she almost wanted to laugh.

A week later, Klein returned.

When he arrived, Lia was in her room, engaged in her daily meditation.

This was a rule Klein had established, explaining that a powerful spiritual force was necessary to serve as a vessel for understanding the world’s rules.

She was immersed in that wonderfully ethereal state when suddenly, a gentle yet vast energy surged from the void and poured into her body.

The energy was not violent; it was like the purest spring water, washing over her spiritual world.

Her thoughts had never felt so clear, and her perception of magic sharpened manifold in an instant.

The magic within her, once a mere trickle, was nourished by this energy, swelling in size to become a small stream.

Lia’s eyes flew open.

The door to her room had been opened at some point, and Klein was standing in the doorway.

He, too, seemed to have just undergone the same experience, and a rare flush of color touched his perpetually pale face.

“Master, what was that just now…?”

Klein walked over and placed a hand on Lia’s head.

“How do you feel?”

Feeling the abundant power coursing through her, Lia nodded emphatically.

“Wonderful!”