Chapter 50: The Seeker’s Dilemma

A chill settled in Klein’s eyes.

The very air around them, even the flagstones beneath their feet, seemed to plummet in temperature.

He spoke, his voice unnervingly calm.

“She bears no obligation to enlighten you. Step aside.”

This was no mere suggestion.

It was an ultimatum.

The sheer will of an eight-ring Archmage, even without a whisper of magic, carried a crushing weight, capable of grinding bone to dust.

The middle-aged mage’s face paled visibly, beads of sweat pricked his temples, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.

He appeared to be battling an invisible, internal storm of immense mental pressure.

Yet, he did not yield.

Gritting his teeth, he forcibly straightened his spine, which had bowed under the immense pressure, remaining stubbornly rooted to the spot.

“Lord Klein,” he managed, “I assure you, this is no provocation.”

His voice was strained, thick with the effort of speaking under such duress, yet each word emerged with startling clarity.

“I am merely… a seeker of truth. If I cannot unravel this profound dilemma today, my path in magic might as well be over.”

Lia, concealed behind Klein, cautiously poked out half her head.

She could distinctly feel the oppressive aura radiating from Klein, a silent command of ‘begone, trouble me no further,’ rapidly solidifying into shards of ice.

Evidently, his patience had worn thin.

Lia’s gaze drifted over Klein’s shoulder, settling on the seven-ring mage’s face.

Upon that serious countenance, she discerned no arrogance, no animosity, but rather a profound confusion, bordering on agony.

It was a look she knew all too well.

In her previous life, she had encountered that identical gaze countless times during late nights, reflected in the eyes of mentors and classmates who toiled sleeplessly over a particular hypothesis, and even in her own reflection within a mirror.

It was the relentless pursuit of truth.

It was the profound struggle that erupted from the depths of one’s soul when their very worldview was fundamentally shaken.

This man was not here to cause trouble.

He genuinely sought an answer.

Lia sighed softly to herself.

‘Troublesome,’ she thought.

Yet, she also understood that such a profound ideological debate, left unresolved at its core and allowed to fester with erroneous interpretations, could potentially give rise to far more dangerous aberrations in the future.

Just as Klein prepared to sweep aside the obstacle with a more direct approach, a clear, crisp voice echoed from behind him.

“I accept.”

Klein’s movements halted.

He slowly lowered his gaze, his eyes falling upon the small figure emerging from behind him.

Lia tilted her head back, meeting his gaze with eyes that were both calm and resolute.

Her eyes conveyed a clear message: ‘Allow me to handle this.’

Klein’s thin lips pressed into a taut line, and the icy pressure emanating from him receded as subtly as an ebbing tide.

Without another word, he merely took half a step back, resuming his position behind Lia.

His stance was unequivocal.

He had yielded the stage to Lia.

Yet, his very presence remained an unyielding barrier, impossible for anyone to disregard.

Upon seeing Lia’s agreement, the middle-aged mage’s taut body visibly relaxed, his face etched with the relief of one who had narrowly escaped disaster.

He bowed deeply to Lia once more.

“Thank you, Master Lia. My name is Faran, and I specialize in Water Element Shaping magic.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘Master’,” Lia interjected, waving a dismissive hand.

“Nor is this a debate; it’s merely a discussion.”

Her gaze swept across their surroundings.

“This place isn’t suitable. Follow me.”

With that, she turned and walked, without further ado, towards a secluded small garden nearby.

Faran followed instantly, without a moment’s hesitation.

Klein trailed silently behind, a steadfast shadow.

The garden was deserted, save for a tranquil fountain statue depicting an angel.

The last vestiges of the evening glow filtered through the leaves, casting dappled golden light upon the ground.

Lia stopped before a clearing, then turned to face Faran.

“Please.”

Faran drew a deep breath, but rather than speaking immediately, he extended his hand.

Pure, refined magical energy surged forth from within him.

The water elements in the air began to gather, almost merrily.

In moments, a massive, perfectly smooth circular water mirror, over two meters in diameter, shimmered into existence, suspended before the three of them.

Its surface was impossibly smooth, flawlessly reflecting the sunset-painted sky without the slightest ripple or distortion.

This was the quintessential demonstration of a seven-ring Water Mage’s profound mastery over the elements.

“This is my ‘Water Mirror Resonance Art’,” Faran’s voice carried the inherent pride of a spellcaster, yet it was overshadowed by a palpable, deep-seated confusion.

He gestured towards the seemingly perfect water mirror.

“Its very essence lies in maintaining an absolute ‘continuity’ and ‘smoothness’ in the flow of magic. My mental energy, every single water element I command, must seamlessly merge into an indivisible whole to forge such an impeccably perfect mirror surface.”

His gaze, burning with an intense fervor, shifted to Lia.

“However, your theories suggest to me that this smooth curve I take such pride in, this continuous flow of magic, is, in its fundamental nature, merely an amalgamation of countless minuscule, discrete, linear segments, each infinitesimally approaching zero.”

“A continuous process, utterly fragmented into an infinite number of ephemeral ‘instants’.”

He shook his head, the anguish on his face deepening perceptibly.

“I cannot reconcile myself with this.”

“The world I perceive, the very magic I wield, all affirm to me that existence is continuous. Yet, your theory seeks to utterly dismantle that very continuity.”

“To my mind, this has already strayed from reality, devolving into nothing more than a sterile game of numbers!”

Lia listened in silence until he had finished.

Instead of refuting him, she merely nodded.

“Your perception is not mistaken.”

Faran froze, taken aback.

Lia slowly approached the colossal water mirror, extending a slender finger.

“What you perceive, and what you have created, is indeed continuous.”

Her fingertip gently made contact with the mirror’s surface.

No ripples disturbed the surface, no waves emanated; her fingertip seemed to dissolve into the water mirror itself.

“Your error lies not in believing the world is continuous.”

“Rather, it lies in mistaking a ‘method of describing the world’ for the ‘world itself’.”

Lia lifted her gaze, meeting Faran’s bewildered eyes.

“Your ‘Water Mirror Resonance Art’ is exceptional, but is it truly perfect?”

Faran parted his lips, poised to refute, yet as a meticulous mage, he found himself unable to utter the word.

“No, it is not perfect,” Lia stated, completing his unspoken thought.

Her voice was soft, yet each word was remarkably distinct.

“Your magical output contains imperceptible fluctuations; your mental concentration experiences subtle ebbs and flows; and countless free-roaming elements in the air exert irregular interference.”

“All of these factors inevitably leave their mark upon your water mirror.”

Lia’s finger traced a light line across the water mirror.

“It is simply that these traces are exceedingly minute, so infinitesimally small that they are completely obscured by the macroscopic illusion of ‘continuous smoothness’ you perceive, so subtle that your past senses were utterly incapable of detecting them.”

As her words resonated, Faran’s eyes abruptly widened in astonishment.

He saw it: precisely where Lia’s fingertip had passed, upon the very surface he had believed flawlessly perfect, there now manifested an infinitesimally subtle, yet undeniably real… structural oscillation.

This was no mere ripple.

It was a high-frequency, almost fatal tremor, originating from the deepest foundational layers of the spell’s model itself!

A flaw that had always existed, yet he had remained utterly oblivious to it!

“This… how could this be possible…”

Faran’s breath hitched, turning ragged, as he stared, transfixed, at the oscillation, as if confronting a specter.

“‘Differentiation’ and ‘integration’ are not hammers designed to shatter the world.”

Lia withdrew her hand, her voice imbued with a calm yet undeniable power.

“They are, rather, a mirror capable of infinite magnification, a precise and intricate measuring tool.”

“They grant us, for the very first time, the capacity to observe the true visage of that ‘continuous world’ you speak of, to quantify those ‘instantaneous changes’ that once lay beyond your perception.”

She gazed at Faran, who stood utterly dumbfounded on the spot.

“This is no mere numbers game.”

“It is a new language, one we employ to articulate the true nature of this world.”

As her final words settled into the air,

Splash—

The colossal water mirror, no longer able to sustain its form under the profound emotional turmoil of its creator, instantly shattered, dissolving into a shimmering cascade of water that rained down upon the ground.

Faran stood utterly bereft, staring blankly at his trembling hands.

Continuity… discontinuity… macroscopic… microscopic…

Innumerable concepts, entirely novel to him, violently clashed, tore apart, and then painstakingly reassembled themselves within his mind.

His world was crumbling.

Yet, from the very ruins, a completely new world was slowly, majestically rising.

Klein had remained silently in the background, observing the entire unfolding scene.

He watched as Lia, with the simplest of words, dismantled a magical belief that a seven-ring mage had meticulously constructed over two decades.

He observed the profound wisdom contained within her small frame, a sagacity that transcended this era, allowing her to gaze upon all beings from an elevated perspective.

As the final tendrils of twilight faded, night began its descent.

Klein walked forward, extending a hand to gently rest it upon Lia’s head.

His palm was broad and warm, conveying an undeniable authority.

Lia started, instinctively wanting to pull away.

However, his hand merely lingered on her hair for a brief moment before naturally falling back to his side.

Without a word, Klein turned and began walking out of the garden.

Lia watched his retreating back, then glanced at the seven-ring mage, still lost in his own world, before pouting slightly and following after Klein.