The plaza of the Terra Branch.
It was madness.
Total madness.
This wasn't a club recruitment fair; it was more like a wet market frenzy for discounted eggs.
“Fire Magic Mutual Aid Society! Join now and get a Tier 3 fire crystal! Limited to one hundred members!”
“Muscle Bro Club! If you’re hard enough, the senior girls will take you flying!”
“Alchemy Seminar! Recruiting guinea pigs... er, recruiting volunteers! Free room, board, and medical!”
Bell walked through the crowd with an expressionless face.
In his hand, he clutched a crumpled registration form.
Noisy.
It was way too noisy.
If Tia were here, the rune array she used to receive audio signals would probably have overloaded and burned out.
He was now a second-year student.
According to academy regulations, he had to join a club to earn elective credits.
Originally, he had planned to find some lazy club just to get his name on the roster.
After all, his time was precious.
Every second needed to be spent fiddling with his wife’s neural circuits.
“Excuse me! Please, let me through!”
A weak voice came from the side.
It was laced with obvious panic.
Bell instinctively stepped aside.
Too late.
Thud!
A figure came stumbling over, looking as if they had oil on the soles of their feet, and crashed squarely into Bell’s chest.
The books, scrolls, and several unknown glass instruments the person was carrying clattered and shattered all over the ground.
The sound of breaking glass wasn't particularly loud amidst the noisy crowd.
But to the person who had crashed into him, it seemed like the sky had fallen.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
The person hurriedly crouched down, frantically trying to pick up the shards.
They didn't even notice that their fingers had been cut by the glass.
Their short blue hair was as messy as a bird’s nest.
Glasses hung crookedly on the bridge of their nose, the lenses as thick as the bottom of a beer bottle.
Their mage robes were wrinkled and stained with unknown colored reagents at the cuffs.
A typical tech geek.
And the kind that was clearly struggling in life.
Bell sighed.
He crouched down.
He picked up a book that had fallen near his feet.
The cover was heavily worn, and the title was handwritten in a scrawl that looked like illegible chicken scratch.
《On the Nonlinear Coupling of Soul Frequency and Mana Fluctuation》.
Bell’s pupils constricted slightly.
This title.
It was interesting.
In this magical world that still used terms like “divine gift” and “innate talent” to explain the soul...
Someone was actually using words like “frequency” and “coupling”?
“This book.”
Bell handed the book over.
“Is it yours?”
The boy snapped his head up.
He looked at Bell with a face full of terror.
It was as if he was afraid Bell would demand compensation.
“It... it’s mine.”
He took the book and clutched it to his chest as if it were some priceless treasure.
“That... I’ll pay for the instruments! Even though I don't have any money right now, my stipend for next month...”
“No need,” Bell interrupted him.
“Which club are you from?”
The boy froze for a moment.
He pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
His face turned beet red.
He stammered for a long time.
Finally, he squeezed a few words out from between his teeth.
“The Soul... Research Club.”
A few passing students heard the name and let out a round of sneers.
“Oh, Senior Horn is still recruiting?”
“Wasn't that club supposed to be disbanded ages ago?”
“Researching the soul? That’s the domain of the gods. Why are mortals messing around with that? Aren't they afraid of divine retribution?”
Horn Montfoss’s head dropped even lower.
He looked like he wanted to find a hole in the ground to crawl into.
“There’s no one left,” Horn whispered.
“In the club... I’m the only one left.”
“If I can’t find a new member today...”
“It will be disbanded tomorrow.”
Bell raised an eyebrow.
One person?
On the verge of closing?
And the research direction was exactly what he was looking for?
This wasn't just a club.
This was practically a private laboratory falling from the sky.
“Where’s the registration form?” Bell asked.
Horn was stunned.
He stared at Bell with a slack-jawed, dazed expression.
“Huh?”
“I said, the registration form.”
Bell pointed to the messy pile of scrolls in his arms.
“I want to join.”
...
The Aqua Branch.
As the branch symbolizing wisdom, the architectural style here was filled with geometric aesthetics.
Spires.
Arches.
And floating runes everywhere.
But the path Horn led him down became increasingly remote.
They passed the magnificent main teaching building.
They bypassed the scenic gardens.
Finally.
The two of them stopped at a corner piled high with clutter.
Before them was a rickety wooden door.
A wooden plaque hung on the door with the words “Soul Research Club” written on it.
The handwriting was crooked.
There was even a footprint on it.
It looked like it was kicked quite often.
“The... conditions are a bit simple.”
Horn scratched his head sheepishly.
He pulled out a rusty key.
He poked at the lock for a while before finally getting the door open.
Creak—
A smell of mildew mixed with old paper wafted out.
Bell waved his hand to disperse the dust in front of him.
He walked in.
It was messy.
Extremely messy.
The floor was covered in discarded scratch paper.
The tables were piled with all sorts of bizarre instruments.
Some were even emitting eerie green smoke.
In the corner sat a pile of empty instant noodle cups... no, wait, instant dry ration bags.
It was practically a junkyard.
But in Bell’s eyes,
There was a different kind of order here.
Although the scratch papers were messy, the classification was clear.
On the left were theoretical derivations.
On the right were experimental data.
The walls were covered in dense charts and diagrams.
Bell walked to the wall.
He looked at one of the diagrams.
It was a waveform chart regarding soul intensity.
Though drawn roughly,
The treatment of a certain peak actually utilized the concept of integration.
Even if it was just a prototype,
In this world, it was a strike from a higher dimension.
“Sit anywhere... sit anywhere.”
Horn frantically cleared books off a chair.
The more he tried to tidy up, the messier it got.
In the end, he could only stand there awkwardly, clutching a pile of books.
“Junior... are you really joining?”
Horn still couldn't quite believe it.
“You’re from the Terra Branch, right?”
“That place is full of muscle-bound barbarians... er, no, it’s full of warriors.”
“Why would you be interested in soul research?”
Bell pulled over a chair.
He sat down.
He crossed his legs.
“Because I’m looking for something.”
Bell looked at Horn.
His gaze was sharp.
“Looking for what?” Horn asked instinctively.
“Looking for someone who speaks my language.”
Bell pointed to the diagram on the wall.
“The slope of that peak.”
“How did you calculate it?”
Horn froze.
His glasses almost slid off.
He followed Bell’s finger and looked over.
His expression changed instantly.
That timid, socially anxious, and cowardly aura vanished.
In its place,
Was a kind of fanaticism.
The fanaticism of someone who had found a kindred spirit.
“That!”
Horn threw the books in his arms onto the floor.
He rushed to the wall in a few steps.
He pointed at the waveform chart.
Spittle flew as he spoke.
“You saw it too, didn't you?!”
“Traditional mana resonance theory cannot explain this kind of transition in the soul at all!”
“So I introduced a variable!”
“I call it ‘Emotional Entropy’!”
“Even though the instructors all say I’m a madman and that I’m talking nonsense.”
“But look!”
Horn grabbed a pen and quickly drew an auxiliary line on the chart.
“If we treat emotion as a type of energy input,”
“This curve closes perfectly!”
“The soul is not a static container!”
“It is a dynamic system that is constantly undergoing energy exchange!”
Bell watched him quietly.
He watched this senior with the messy hair who looked like a madman.
Emotional Entropy.
Dynamic system.
Though the terminology was different,
This guy’s train of thought actually coincided with the Second Law of Thermodynamics.
Was this what a genius among the locals looked like?
If Antinoia was an all-knowing, all-powerful top student,
Then this Horn,
Was an eccentric genius who had burrowed into a niche to the absolute extreme.
And,
Most importantly,
He was alone.
No background.
No resources.
On the verge of being kicked out of the academy.
This kind of person,
Was the easiest to use.
And the safest.
The corners of Bell’s mouth curled up slightly.
A meaningful smile appeared on his face.
“Senior Horn.”
Bell spoke,
Interrupting Horn’s non-stop rambling.
“If I said,”
“I have a way to prove your theory.”
“And furthermore,”
“I have the actual data ready.”
Horn stopped the pen in his hand.
He turned around.
He stared intently at Bell.
His breathing quickened.
He looked like a vagrant who hadn't eaten in three days suddenly seeing a freshly grilled steak.
“Who... who are you?”
Bell stood up.
He brushed the dust off his robes.
He reached out his hand.
“Bell Lucas.”
“An amateur enthusiast with a slight bit of research into the soul.”
Horn looked at that hand.
It was covered in small scars.
Those were the marks left by long-term contact with metal and runes.
It was the hand of one of his own kind.
Horn took a deep breath.
He wiped the sweat from his palm hard against his clothes.
Then,
He firmly shook Bell’s hand.
“Horn Montfoss.”
“It's a deal.”
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