Chapter 36: Cognitive Shock and a New Approach

Lia set down her pen, her gaze falling upon the thick stack of parchment before her, and an unprecedented sense of contentment swelled within her.

She carefully rolled the treatise, securing it tightly with a thin cord.

Having completed her task, she rose, preparing to seek out Klein.

This theory, potent enough to overturn the world, had to be seen by him first.

She found no trace of Klein in the second-floor library, and the alchemical laboratory, too, stood empty.

Lia ascended to the fourth floor, where Klein’s bedroom and private laboratory were located.

As her foot touched the final step, she spotted Klein standing before a wall at the end of the corridor.

He extended a finger, its tip wreathed in a wisp of imperceptible magic, tracing it lightly across an unassuming brick in the wall.

Ancient runes flickered into existence for a fleeting moment, only to vanish, leaving the wall as it was.

The Mage Tower’s defensive array, it seemed, had grown subtly more formidable and intricate than before.

Klein withdrew his hand, turning to meet Lia’s gaze directly.

“Finished writing?” he inquired.

Lia held up the rolled parchment, a hint of unconcealed pride gracing her features.

“It’s complete, Klein.

This will undoubtedly be a masterpiece worthy of historical record.”

She stepped forward, extending the weighty treatise to him.

Klein accepted the rolled parchment but did not immediately unseal it.

With a flick of his other hand, a thick, black-bound manual materialized in his grasp.

“This is for you.”

He offered the manual to Lia.

Lia, momentarily stunned, instinctively took it.

The manual’s cover, crafted from an unknown leather, felt warm and smooth to the touch, intricately embossed with complex magical patterns in silver thread.

“This is…?”

“A compilation of spells I’ve organized.

Ranging from first-circle to fifth-circle, it covers four main categories: protection, concealment, offense, and escape,” Klein stated in an even tone.

“You must learn them all.

If you encounter anything you don’t understand, you can ask Adèle first.”

Lia opened the manual, and its contents made her heart skip a beat.

Each spell was accompanied by detailed diagrams and casting essentials, even noting potential variations for different circumstances.

This was no mere spellbook; it was a private textbook, clearly a labor of immense dedication.

“How is your progress with Mind Weaving?” Klein inquired again.

“I’ve reached the second stage,” Lia replied honestly.

“I can make sixty-four cubes move simultaneously along different trajectories without colliding.”

Klein nodded, seemingly content with her progress.

Without another word, he turned, taking Lia’s treatise, and entered his study.

Lia stood rooted to the spot, clutching the heavy manual, a swirl of mixed emotions within her.

She had expected Klein to react with immense enthusiasm to her completed treatise, yet he had been more concerned with her ability to protect herself.

She followed him into the study.

Klein settled behind his desk, untied the cord binding the parchment, and slowly unrolled it.

He began to read.

Lia pulled a chair close and sat beside him, refraining from making any sound that might disturb him.

She observed Klein’s expression, which transitioned from initial calm to a growing seriousness.

His reading pace was swift, yet it was not mere skimming.

Within his eyes, countless data points and symbols seemed to race, colliding violently with the deeply ingrained magical theories held within his mind.

Lia’s theory, from its very foundation, was fundamentally different from the magical system of this world.

Magic, as it was once understood, revolved around the resonance between spirit and mana, the distortion of the world’s rules by sheer will.

Lia’s theory, however, was cold and objective, unswayed by anyone’s will.

It described a universe governed by immutable laws and formulas.

Klein was attempting to comprehend it.

He was actively dismantling his old perceptions, striving to accommodate this entirely new worldview.

Such active cognitive restructuring proved far more perilous than a passive intellectual shock.

As Klein’s gaze shifted to ‘Chapter Five: A New Analytical Tool – Work and Energy,’ his body imperceptibly swayed.

“The Law of Conservation of Mechanical Energy…”

He murmured the phrase under his breath.

In that very instant, Lia sensed a slight disturbance in the magical elements within the room.

Klein’s complexion visibly paled with alarming speed.

He lowered the treatise, raising a hand to press against his forehead.

“Klein?” Lia, sensing something amiss, cautiously inquired.

Klein did not respond.

The next second, he abruptly rose from his chair, his body swaying violently.

He reached out to steady himself on the desk, but his hand met only air.

He toppled sideways.

“Klein!”

Lia gasped, rushing forward without a second thought, her slender frame barely managing to support him.

Klein’s body felt heavy, almost dragging her down with him.

He leaned against Lia’s shoulder, his body trembling slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

A drop of warm liquid fell upon Lia’s neck.

Then came a second, and a third.

Lia froze.

She reached up, touching her neck, her fingertips coming away stained crimson.

It was blood.

Klein was bleeding from his nose.

“I’m fine,” Klein rasped, attempting to straighten himself, but a wave of intense dizziness caused him to lose his balance once more.

“You call this fine?” Lia exclaimed, her voice laced with urgency, as she half-dragged, half-guided him to the nearby sofa.

Klein leaned back against the sofa, his head tilted up, eyes tightly shut.

Blood traced a path down his nose, staining his pale lips crimson.

This sight sent a sharp pang through Lia’s heart.

Never had she seen Klein appear so vulnerable.

“I… I’ll go find Adèle!” Lia stammered, a frantic edge to her voice, turning to rush out.

“Stop.” Klein’s voice was soft, yet it carried an undeniable authority.

Lia halted, turning back to him.

“Don’t go.” He opened his eyes, a hint of weariness in their blue depths.

“It’s merely… a normal backlash from cognitive shock.

I was a bit too hasty.”

Lia gazed at him, at a loss for words.

She hurried into the study’s adjoining washroom, soaked a soft towel in clear water, and then rushed back out.

Approaching the sofa, she knelt on one knee, carefully raising her hand to wipe the blood from his face.

Klein’s body stiffened for a moment.

He instinctively wanted to pull away, but seeing the genuine concern etched in Lia’s eyes, he ultimately remained still.

The cool towel gently brushed against his cheeks and lips, erasing the stark crimson.

Lia’s movements were soft and focused, as if she feared causing him pain.

The distance between them was closer than it had ever been.

Klein could even discern the faint, sweet scent emanating from her hair.

“There,” Lia said, having wiped away the blood, finally letting out a breath of relief.

She placed the towel aside.

“Your theory… it’s remarkable,” Klein broke the silence.

“It constructs a… wholly new world.”

He picked up the treatise he had discarded on the desk, resuming his reading, but this time, his pace was considerably slower.

“I was too greedy,” he scoffed at himself.

“Attempting to swallow an entire starfield in one gulp.”

He placed the treatise back on the desk and looked at Lia.

“I’ll try a different approach.”

“What approach?”

“From the beginning.

You explain, and I’ll ask questions,” Klein said, adjusting himself into a comfortable position on the sofa.

“Starting with the very first definition.”

Lia was taken aback.

“Now? Here?”

“Yes.”

Lia, observing his pale face, hesitated.

“Your body…”

“My mental power requires an anchor to recalibrate my cognition.

Your explanation will serve as the best anchor,” Klein elucidated.

“Otherwise, fragmented understanding could lead to far more severe consequences.”

Lia understood.

This wasn’t merely learning; it was treatment.

She nodded.

“Alright.”

She rose, moved a chair from before the desk to the side of the sofa, and then sat down.

The room was silent, save for the faint glow cast by the magic lamp.

“Chapter One: Definitions of Fundamental Physical Quantities.” Lia cleared her throat, commencing her explanation.

“First, mass.

I define it as an intrinsic property of an object, characterizing its tendency to maintain its original state of motion…”

Klein listened in silence.

He no longer attempted to forcibly deconstruct it using his own framework, but instead listened and understood as a pure student.

From time to time, he would pose a question, pinpointing the most crucial or ambiguous aspects of a definition.

“’Intrinsic property’—that phrase is crucial.

Do you mean it’s entirely unrelated to things like magical element affinity or soul imprints?”

“Entirely unrelated,” Lia affirmed.

“A stone, whether on the ground or ten thousand meters high, whether imbued with magic or not, its mass remains constant.”

“What about weight?”

“Weight is the result of gravitational force; it is a force, and thus variable.

In your Mage Tower, if you were to create a localized anti-gravity field, the stone’s weight would decrease, or even vanish, but its mass would still persist.”

Klein asked no further questions, instead absorbing the concept.

Lia continued her explanation.

So absorbed was she in her discourse that she completely failed to notice Klein’s gaze, for a fleeting moment, subtly shift from the treatise in her hands to her face, which had become animated with her explanations.

His eyes lingered briefly, holding a hint of scrutiny and focus that he himself had not yet perceived.

Lia, however, remained entirely oblivious.