Chapter 372: A New Life at the Research Institute

Mage Cohen walked down the spacious, brightly lit corridor of the Arcane Technology Research Institute. Researchers in white mage technician robes bustled past him, some pausing briefly to exchange greetings before heading off together to their respective labs.

Cohen wore the same plain white robe.

From the institute’s main entrance to the lobby was seventy-two steps; from the lobby to the First Applied Technology Lab was another one hundred and two. Along the way, he passed through three doors and a hallway. Cohen moved at a steady, unhurried pace along this now-familiar route, each step measured and precise.

He glanced down at his robe. It was almost entirely unadorned, save for a small metal badge pinned to the chest—a stamped plate bearing his name and an identification number. This was no enchanted garment; it was simply cloth. If anything made it special, it was that nearly everyone in the institute wore something similar, and here, this robe carried a unique significance.

It marked him as a “Mage Technician”—a title he had never heard before, unique to this land.

Since arriving in this territory, Cohen had been working at the Arcane Technology Research Institute for over four weeks—more than forty days. For this third-tier arcanist from the royal capital, life in the Cecil Territory was not quite what he had imagined. He had indeed met the powerful ancient arcanist and the legendary pioneering hero he had hoped to see. He had witnessed marvels like the magic network and the arcane energy engine—said to be lost technologies. But beyond these wonders, the environment was very different from what he expected.

This was no harsh, barren frontier. The Cecilians had already put down roots here, and the land was thriving beyond belief. Yet it was not a place governed by classical aristocratic customs. Though founded by a true ancient hero, the rules here were, to Cohen’s capital-born mage sensibilities, almost rebellious.

Commoners enjoyed extraordinary freedoms; the nobility had receded into the background; the administration was efficient and pragmatic. Though the Cecil Territory lay within the southern borders of Ansu, everything happening here felt like a distant, almost storybook foreign land. Cohen had thought he was invited as a mage to pore over ancient relics and dusty tomes, but instead, he found himself a “mage technician apprentice,” starting from scratch to learn an entirely unfamiliar body of knowledge—alongside a motley crew of mage apprentices, craftsmen, and scholars.

Here, everyone started on equal footing. Even gifted individuals had no special privileges.

To be honest, it was hard to adjust at first. But Cohen was gradually getting used to it. He was neither of noble birth nor a prodigy; just the fortunate son of a merchant. Even back in the capital’s mage circles, he had never enjoyed any extraordinary privileges. So adapting here was comparatively easy. More importantly, he had come to a wiser realization: no matter how unconventional the customs of this land seemed, he had no right to question them.

Because the order here was established by Gawain Cecil himself—the very man who, seven centuries ago, had also laid down the laws of Ansu.

All the so-called “civilized” rules of Ansu today were merely the evolved echoes of that ancient hero’s offhand words seven hundred years ago. So debating “proper etiquette” in the Cecil Territory was pointless. The founding duke’s word was law.

Cohen had long accepted this belief, though he wasn’t sure if it had taken root after witnessing Master Kamail bow respectfully to Gawain Cecil himself…

Lost in these wandering thoughts, Cohen reached the door of the First Applied Technology Lab. Just as he was about to push it open, a young girl with flaxen hair tied in a single ponytail came running down the corridor, waving a rolled-up paper.

“Cohen! The new issue of the Cecil Weekly! I got it for you—don’t forget to treat me to a meal later!”

Cohen raised his hand to take the paper from her and replied casually. The girl, named Media, was a mage apprentice from the Kant Territory who had arrived earlier and thus became a “senior” at the institute. She had taken good care of Cohen since he arrived. Media was warm-hearted and seemed deeply influenced by the lord’s progressive ideas—helpful and without much regard for social rank. Many at the institute liked her cheerful spirit.

Cohen smiled and shook his head, unfolding the paper as he stepped into his lab.

The newspaper was another unique thing in this land. It hadn’t been around long—only three issues so far—but Cohen found it fascinating. Reading it was a pleasant break from the mental strain of magic books, and its content was both interesting and practical. He knew many at the institute treated it as a relaxing pastime.

Moreover, Cohen was aware that the project he and his colleagues were working on was closely connected to this “newspaper” thing.

“Good morning, Cohen,” a familiar mage technician greeted him as he entered. Spotting the paper in Cohen’s hand, curiosity got the better of him. “What’s in this issue? I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”

Another technician chuckled, “I’m hoping for a follow-up to last issue’s ‘Northern Forest Legends.’ I never expected so many strange tales from the kingdom’s northern regions.”

“Focus on the useful news,” Cohen said, glancing at the second technician and raising the paper. “It says our king has gone to the border to negotiate with Emperor Typhon. Mr. Gawain predicts they’ll meet next week.”

“Tch, the day has finally come,” the first technician clicked his tongue. “Looks like our king is in a hurry.”

“No one likes war, especially the king—he’s got a lot at stake,” the second technician laughed heartily. “He spent all his savings refurbishing Silver Fortress ten years ago!”

Cohen smiled and shook his head but didn’t join the conversation. He folded the paper and put it away.

In this remote southern frontier, two mere craftsmen and mage apprentices casually discussed the king’s negotiations with a neighboring emperor—not some old news, but events unfolding right now. It was truly an incredible scene.

The Cecilians seemed accustomed to accepting all sorts of incredible things, but for Cohen, a mage from the capital, fully adapting would take some time.

Just then, someone entered the lab. The technicians chatting and tidying up immediately fell silent.

It was a girl with deep brown hair, younger than anyone else present—barely an adult. Her bright smile and confident stride filled the room with energy, yet no one dared underestimate her, not even Cohen.

For this girl, barely seventeen or eighteen, was the institute’s owner and the heir of the ancient Cecil family that ruled this land.

“Good morning, everyone!” she greeted cheerfully, waving as she reached the center of the lab. There was no trace of aristocratic airs, but Cohen and the others respectfully bowed their heads in response. Cohen’s voice was clear and steady: “Good morning, Lady Rebecca.”

“Alright, no need for formalities,” Rebecca waved them off. “Let’s continue with our projects. Each group, keep testing your assigned data and materials. Bruce, Terry, come here—I have a new idea to verify.”

The lab sprang into action. Each small team quickly settled into their tasks. Cohen joined in, still an apprentice but progressing rapidly in rune logic thanks to his third-tier arcanist background. He had already earned the privilege to work in the lab ahead of schedule.

He treasured the opportunity.

Magic research here was unlike anywhere else. There were no dark, cramped towers or reclusive mages; no trembling apprentices or arcane experiments left to chance. Instead, numerous technicians collaborated, discussing and testing ideas together. Large projects were broken down into smaller parts, with multiple teams working in concert to tackle each challenge. This unprecedented approach to magical research had amazed Cohen from the start, and he soon found himself fully immersed. The exchange of ideas, the fusion of inspiration, the shared knowledge—all working toward a common goal—was far more enjoyable than the rigid atmosphere of the capital’s mage association.

Cohen’s task was simple: determine which spells could leave marks on which materials, and ensure the process was reversible.

In fact, most teams in the lab were engaged in this straightforward but tedious work.

He understood the purpose: to create a printing tool that could quickly produce plates and be reused repeatedly. The project’s goal hung on the wall opposite the door, where it had remained for many days.

That was why the project he and his colleagues were working on was closely linked to the “newspaper” concept. Everyone in the lab was smart enough to see that if their research succeeded, this new printing tool could revolutionize many fields.

Thinking about how his work might become something historically significant filled Cohen with unprecedented motivation—very different from the satisfaction of finally mastering a new spell after months of rote memorization.

He felt as if he were helping to build history itself.

(End of chapter)