Chapter 194: The Price of Iteration

The office of the president of the Royal Magic Association.

The Earl Grey tea on the desk had gone completely cold, a layer of brown film floating on its surface.

Samuel maintained his slumped posture, motionless for the entire night. His eyes were sunken, and his whole being seemed like an empty shell with its soul sucked out.

The black supplementary issue of Magitech Theory lay open before him.
E = mc²

These few simple characters no longer represented truth at this moment; they represented a death notice.

Last night, when he signed his name on the publication order, he thought he was merely pushing open a door to a new world.

Reality, however, gave him a harsh slap in the face—standing behind the door was not the Goddess of Truth, but the Grim Reaper wielding a scythe.

Knock, knock, knock.

The knocking was urgent, devoid of any etiquette.

“Come in,” Samuel’s voice was hoarse, as if rough sand was stuck in his throat.

The office door was thrown open.

The normally well-mannered secretary staggered in, the documents in his arms scattering all over the floor, his young face etched with terror.

“President! Something terrible has happened!”

“The Royal Alchemy Association… it’s in complete chaos!”

Samuel didn’t even lift his eyelids, merely pressing a hand to his throbbing temple in exhaustion.

“How many died?”

The secretary froze for a moment, clearly not expecting the president to be so direct.

“Con… confirmed seven deaths. All of them senior alchemy masters above the Fifth Circle.”

The secretary swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “Master Borodin…”

“He was in his private laboratory… his head just exploded. The scene… the scene was too horrible to look at. The cleaning staff threw up three times. No one dares to go in and collect the body now.”

“There are also a dozen or so professors who have fallen into a coma due to magical backlash. The beds in the medical department are all full.”

Samuel’s expression remained unchanged.

‘That old fool Borodin spent his entire life upholding “equivalent exchange” as his gospel. Now someone tells him that matter itself is a vast energy reserve that doesn’t need exchange, only release.

With that kind of cognitive shock, it would be a miracle if he didn’t die.’

The secretary picked up a dirt-stained statistical report from the floor.

“All the mage towers in the kingdom that subscribed to this issue of Magitech Theory have sent back bad news.”

“As of ten minutes ago, the number of mages confirmed dead due to their sea of consciousness collapsing or magical power running rampant after reading the paper has reached thirty-three.”

“All of them were elites from their respective families.”

Samuel’s hand on the armrest tightened abruptly, his nails digging into the leather.

Thirty-three.

‘In the past decade, the total number of high-level mages the kingdom lost in the border wars was about that number.’

And this was just in one night.

Just because of a single paper.

If this black journal were to circulate throughout the entire continent…

It wouldn’t be an academic exchange, but a genocide targeting the mages of the old era.

“Issue the order.”

Samuel opened his eyes, their depths a dead calm.

“Classify this black issue of Magitech Theory as a top-level forbidden book.”

“Effective immediately, recall all circulating copies. Those that haven’t been sent out are to be sealed.”

“Only mages who have passed a mental stability test and are at the Fifth Circle or above, with a joint guarantee from three council members, are eligible to borrow it from within the Association.”

“Also,” Samuel turned to look at the bustling street scene outside the window,

“notify the City Guard to strengthen their night patrols. The suicide and accidental death rates in the Royal Capital are going to skyrocket recently. Tell them to be diligent when they’re cleaning the streets.”

The secretary nodded frantically, grabbed the documents on the floor, and rushed out of the office as if fleeing.

The room returned to a deathly silence.

Samuel stared at the communication crystal ball on the corner of his desk, silent for a long time.

He stretched out a stiff finger and entered a familiar string of magical frequencies—

Light flickered, and an image unfolded.

The laboratory filled with draft papers and a repressive atmosphere that he had expected did not appear.

What met his eyes was the sun-drenched dining room on the top floor of the mage tower.

Lia, wearing a loose silk nightgown, was sitting at the dining table. She held a silver spoon, completely focused on a piece of tiramisu in front of her.

She scooped up a spoonful and put it in her mouth, her cheeks puffing out, her eyes squinting in satisfaction.

Klein, sitting across from her, was holding a cup of warm milk.

“Slow down,” he said, naturally wiping away the cocoa powder that had gotten on the corner of her mouth.

“It’s too sweet,” Lia mumbled indistinctly, yet she honestly scooped up another large spoonful.

“Then drink some milk to balance it out,” Klein said in a flat tone, but his gaze never left her face.

On one side, a river of blood flowed through the Royal Capital; on the other, a peaceful and quiet breakfast.

This huge sense of disconnect made his chest churn with a rush of blood and qi.

‘People outside are splattering their brains on the walls, and these two culprits are eating dessert?’

“Bastards!”

Samuel finally couldn’t hold it in anymore and roared at the crystal ball.

The two people in the image paused and turned their heads in unison.

Lia still had the spoon in her mouth, a blank look on her face.

The gentle expression on Klein’s face vanished instantly, replaced by the displeasure of being disturbed.

“Is there something?”

Samuel laughed out of extreme anger, pointing at the black journal on his desk. “Do you have any idea how many people died in the Royal Capital last night because of this thing?”

“Thirty-three! That’s thirty-three living, breathing Archmages!”

“I don’t,” Klein answered crisply, even somewhat coldly. “And I don’t want to know.”

He raised his hand, gesturing to cut off the magic supply.

“Don’t hang up!” Samuel was so anxious he almost jumped out of his chair.

“I’m begging you, you two ancestors.”

“For the near future, can you please just keep a low profile? Don’t come up with any more new theories.”

“The Magic Association’s pension fund account is already empty. One more time and I’ll have to sell the building!”

Lia swallowed the cake in her mouth, blinked, and looked innocent.

“President Samuel, this isn’t our fault.”

“The truth exists objectively. We are only responsible for discovering and recording it.”

“As for those who can’t accept it…” Lia paused and put down her spoon. “This is the necessary price of cognitive iteration. If the old leaves don’t fall, the new branches can’t grow.”

“Price?” Samuel felt his blood pressure shoot to the top of his head. “This is amputation! This is sawing off the legs of the magic world!”

“Enough.”

Klein impatiently cut off Samuel’s accusations.

“Got it. We’re very busy recently, no time to write papers.”

Pop.

The communication was unilaterally cut off.

The light of the crystal ball extinguished, turning back into a cold stone.

Samuel slumped back in his chair, panting heavily.

Although their attitude was terrible, at least he got a promise.

As long as they didn’t write any papers, the world should be able to hang on for a few more days.

Top floor of the mage tower.

Lia looked at the extinguished crystal ball, a little hesitant.

“Were we too harsh?”

“He’s the one who decided to publish it.”

Klein pushed the last piece of tiramisu on his plate in front of her. “Besides, we really are very busy.”

Lia looked at him with confusion.

“Busy with what? I’ve already finished the blueprints for the particle accelerator. The rest can be left to the craftsmen.”

Klein stood up, walked around the long table, and came up behind her.

He leaned down, his hands resting on the back of the chair on either side of Lia, enclosing her in his arms.

A distinctly masculine scent instantly enveloped Lia.

“Busy with dating,” Klein whispered in her ear, his warm breath sweeping over the shell of her ear, causing a fine shiver to run through her.

Lia shrank her neck and was about to retort when Klein’s fingers had already gently lifted her chin.

He lowered his head, his tongue curling away a small dab of cream remaining on the pearl of her lip.

Lia’s brain instantly shut down, her body as stiff as a block of wood.

Klein looked at the tips of her reddened ears, feeling pleased.

“And… helping you adapt to the body of a Seventh-Circle Mage.”

“This is a major project.”

Lia looked at the pair of blue eyes so close to her and suddenly felt that, compared to the mages outside who were experiencing a cognitive collapse, her own situation seemed far more dangerous.

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