Chapter 1300: A Winter Night at the Paramel Observatory

Night had fallen low and heavy, a crystal-clear starry sky blanketing the tranquil Paramel Highlands. The biting midwinter wind howled in from afar, weaving mournful whispers between the concrete walls and metal support beams. Towering solemnly, the observatory stood firm atop this plateau—once nearly the flashpoint for a war between two great empires—now silent in the cold, unforgiving winter night.

The highly precise lens arrays slowly returned to their calibrated positions under the careful adjustments of the machinery. Above the observatory, faintly glowing runes flickered against the dark canvas of the sky. The constellation Frostheaven, near its zenith, shimmered with an otherworldly clarity, as if a subtle filter of color had been laid over the stars themselves. Accompanying the low moan of the wind, another set of lenses and crystal arrays rose from the dome atop the building, slowly unfolding and aligning toward the highest point of Frostheaven.

Inside the observatory, Morgan Hugo—his hair white as snow and his frame thin with age—handed off the next round of observations and record-keeping to his assistant. Weary, he made his way toward the rest area, where his closest friend and the observatory’s deputy director, Benjamin, sat at a round table, clutching a journal with a furrowed brow so tight it looked like a crumpled rag.

Hearing Morgan’s footsteps, Benjamin looked up, his expression softening slightly when he recognized the elder scholar. The former court mage from Saint Suniel forced a faint smile. “Ah, looks like you finally finished your work.”

“Every time Frostheaven reaches its zenith, we have to recalibrate the lens arrays. I can’t trust those clumsy young ones with it—if the main lens gets scratched, I’d be heartbroken,” Morgan replied casually, then glanced curiously at the journal in Benjamin’s hands. “What are you reading? You look like you’re about to go out and duel someone.”

Benjamin’s face darkened even further. The dark-skinned ex-court mage waved the journal in frustration. “A paper—a disturbing new paper published in Arcane Frontiers! Damn it, you’re right. I’m almost tempted to challenge someone to a duel. A good fireball or lightning bolt would be more relaxing than reading this nonsense!”

Morgan chuckled at his friend’s exaggerated reaction. “A paper driving a great scholar to madness? The last time I saw you like this was after three sleepless days poring over Runic Logic in Detail.” He reached out, “Let me see it. What kind of sorcery is in these words that can torment a grand mage so?”

Taking the journal, Morgan examined the latest issue of Arcane Frontiers—the official publication of the Empire’s Arcane Technology Department, compiled under the names of Princess Rebecca and Master Kamail. Though its circulation was limited, every modern scholar with even a modest grasp of arcane science prized owning and reading each issue. Morgan, despite his recent busyness, had yet to catch up on this edition.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Benjamin said, eyes twinkling with a mix of exasperation and mischief. “You might want to cast a calming spell on your mind first. Start with the article titled ‘Extended Hypotheses on the Fundamental Nature of All Things Behind Mana Wave Fluctuations’—the one that takes up half the journal. Skim it first; it’ll do your sanity some good.”

Morgan muttered in surprise, “That long? And what kind of title is that…” He soon found the article, the largest in the issue, but barely a few pages in, his brow furrowed deeply. “This… awkward, clumsy grammar, barely passing spelling, careless and unpolished phrasing… Is this really a paper published in Arcane Frontiers? My granddaughter’s diary is more coherent than this!”

“Not quite that bad, old friend,” Benjamin sighed calmly. “The writing style is indeed rough, like a novice’s first paper, but the theoretical content is precise and professional. That’s what makes it important. You should read on—the substance is what matters.”

“Substance?” Morgan frowned, flipping through the pages. “Hmm, the section on mana wave experiments and parameters seems sound… and here… hmm?”

The old mage’s expression grew more intense as he read, his brows knitting tighter with every line. Eventually, he sat down beside Benjamin, biting his lip and rocking slightly—a habit he’d developed over years of deep concentration. Benjamin, prepared for this, pushed a cup of tea toward him. Intense study always left one parched.

“This… this is a human idea?!” Morgan exclaimed before finishing the paper. He gulped the tea and turned to his friend. “The microscopic foundation of all things is waves—or ‘vibrational units’ with wave properties. Everything in existence shares a unified nature at the world’s ‘lowest level.’ The difference between matter and energy is just wavelength and frequency. Mana might be a uniquely special kind of wave, permeating the entire universe and interacting with everything. That’s why so many interactions between mana and matter are possible… What on earth is this?!”

“See? I told you,” Benjamin said with a calm smile, no longer as agitated. His expression held a hint of wry amusement, as if to say, “Though I’m doomed, it’s comforting to see a fellow traveler fall into the same pit.” He poured himself another cup and pushed it forward. “You need to calm down. You’re much older than me, after all.”

“You’re the calm one now!” Morgan glared, waving the journal. “You finished it? You accept this conclusion? That our entire material world essentially stems from a special vibration at some ‘origin point’? That all reality we know is just a fleeting, ordered ripple in an infinite-scale oscillation? Mana is a wave, matter is a wave, and if you break down a living being like us infinitely, the most fundamental ‘unit’ is also vibrating—possibly even interfering with other matter at certain wavelengths and frequencies! I’ve never heard anything so absurd in my life!”

“But you can’t disprove it, can you?” Benjamin shrugged. “The whole paper is logically consistent…”

“Of course it’s consistent! It’s a hypothesis derived from a handful of phenomena and an ‘observational experience’ no one can verify! Hypothesis, do you understand? It doesn’t claim to be true. How am I supposed to disprove it?! Your Majesty the Magic Empress, hypotheses are fine, but this is just ridiculous…”

Morgan grumbled, clearly irritated that such a bizarre “folk magic research article” had made it into such a prestigious journal. He didn’t notice the strange smile that flickered across Benjamin’s face. Flipping quickly to the end of the paper, Morgan muttered, “Let me see what else is here… Ah! What’s this? ‘No references cited in this paper.’ Benjamin! A published paper actually says that! Who does this author think they are? The Source of All Magic? Or the Empress herself?!”

“No way. I want to see who wrote this, and who allowed such a paper to pass peer review and be published in Arcane Frontiers. I have to write a formal challenge to its rigor…”

The strict old mage’s voice rose in frustration—a natural reaction to seeing an outsider wreak havoc in his beloved field. He flipped to the last page, but his complaints abruptly stopped as he took in the list of names.

Almost every renowned figure in the domestic arcane and runic community was there.

And before those names were two that he never dared imagine.

“Here, have some tea,” Benjamin said gently, pushing the now lukewarm cup forward. “Then we’ll go find someone to duel.”

“I’ll duel you—right now, this instant! Have you been waiting all along to see me make a fool of myself?” Morgan’s eyes blazed as he stared at his friend. Then, suddenly nervous, he lowered his voice and glanced around cautiously. “Did I curse too harshly just now?”

“Thank your lifelong upbringing,” Benjamin shrugged. “Your limited vocabulary in insults kept you from going too far. Honestly, I think the authors put their names at the end on purpose. But don’t scare yourself—we don’t live under a harsh, oppressive monarch…”

“No, it’s not the Empress’s name that worries me most,” Morgan whispered, voice barely audible, as if afraid the very word might summon some unspeakable force. “Though that’s unsettling too. It’s the other name you noticed, right? ‘Myrmina’…”

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence?” Benjamin hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “Don’t read too much into it.”

“That name isn’t easy to share,” Morgan said quietly. “A simple country bumpkin might give their child a strange name like that, but someone capable of publishing this paper in Arcane Frontiers—and putting those names at the end—do you think she or her parents don’t know which being ‘Myrmina’ refers to?”

“Don’t think too much, Morgan,” Benjamin said softly, shaking his head. “The being you speak of has already fallen.”

“Yes, fallen… but you and I have both been involved with the Divine Authority Council’s projects. You know the observatory’s purpose. We know some of the ‘truth.’”

Hearing Morgan’s veiled words, Benjamin immediately understood what his old friend was hinting at. He let out a soft sigh and glanced down at the open journal before them. That name—so familiar to every mage—caught his eye. After a long silence, he finally spoke in a low voice, “When you first heard that She had fallen, were you upset?”

“…Not really,” Morgan replied with a sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t think of myself as a particularly devout follower. Or rather, I don’t believe there are many truly devout magic worshippers in this world. But still, I spent the whole night in a daze. I’d never heard of anything like that before. It was the first time, and I didn’t know how to react…”

“I felt the same,” Benjamin said, pouring himself another cup of tea. “But then… the Theocratic Council was established. Like you, I took on a low-level position there alongside my regular duties, and that’s when I started getting some inside information…”

Morgan lowered his head, silent. His fingers lightly brushed over the printed pages, lingering on a particular name before he suddenly spoke up: “If this really is Her, what do you think…?”

“…Isn’t that a good thing?” Benjamin’s voice carried a hint of a smile. The unexpected lightness in his tone made Morgan look up in surprise.

“This time, we’re ‘close’ to Her,” Benjamin said with a grin, as if a realization had just dawned on him. “Before, all we could do was pray to Her, but we never even heard a response. We worshipped a vague, intangible symbol—one that explained nothing. But now—you’re holding Her ‘thoughts’ in your hands. What She’s thinking, what She’s researching, what She wants to discuss with us—it’s all clearly written here. We can even tell at a glance that Her grammar is terrible. It’s obviously Her first time writing something. This paper was probably even edited by someone else…”

“Hey, that’s a bit disrespectful…” Morgan protested.

“You just said the same thing yourself!”

“…True enough,” Morgan muttered, a strange expression crossing his face, a mix of confusion and wonder. “After reading this article, my feelings about ‘that lady’ have changed somehow… She’s studying and researching the same things we are? And she even got our Majesty and Master Kamail to co-sign it…”

Benjamin winked. “So, are you still thinking about ‘publishing a rebuttal’ now?”

Morgan froze for a moment.

But after a brief pause, the veteran astrologer from the Royal House of Saint Suniel seemed to be fired up with renewed determination. He straightened his neck and said firmly, “Write it. Why not? Didn’t you see the bolded note at the end of the article? ‘This paper offers only a preliminary hypothesis on the underlying truths of our world and should not be taken as any form of judgment or conclusion. Scholars who wish to challenge or discuss any of the points raised are welcome to do so. On the path of academia, any rigorous and reasonable critique need not bow to any authority.’ —That’s not something you find in ordinary papers. It’s clearly a message left for us by His Majesty and ‘that lady’ herself!”

(End of chapter)