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墨書 Inktalez
Thirteen years later, at Calderia Capital's West District Train Station.
After a seven-minute blast of the train's magical horn, it finally came to a lopsided stop at the end of the tracks. The engine puffed out a cloud of steam that smelled faintly of baked milk, startling two little goblins who were sneaking a taste of the wheel lubricant, causing them to squeal and jump into the luggage compartment.
"Is this part of the welcome ceremony?" Nora Thorn asked, tilting her head.
"No," Elias Thorn replied, flipping through the enrollment guide. "It says here: 'If you hear the train emit a sound resembling a garbage disposal's scream, do not panic; this is standard performance for the academy.'"
Nora watched as the train doors slowly opened, the long wooden platform creaking as if an entire era were grinding its teeth.
A greasy but smiling face peeked in.
"Welcome to Wushen Academy," the person said, dressed in three layers of overlapping academic robes, as if they had wandered into the wrong theater backstage. "New students, please present your enrollment credentials. If you can't find them, anything on you that proves you won't blow up the school will suffice."
Nora handed over an alchemical badge marked with "Qualified."
"Um... 'Qualified'?" the receptionist read aloud. "We usually expect to see terms like 'Outstanding,' 'Honor,' or 'Parents Are Sponsors.'"
"I'm sorry," Nora blinked. "My mother has been blown up by the Noble Council and turned into sponsorship material."
"...That's quite a sad yet fluid expression." He returned the badge to her. "Go on in, Xiao Suo En."
They stepped onto the platform and entered the academy's foyer.
"Welcome to... uh, Wushen Academy." The stone tablet at the entrance bore an inscription:
"We are godless but not ignorant. We are bloodless but not powerless. Enrollment is open book; open book means battle."
Nora quietly read it over and raised an eyebrow at her father. "This school is quite inspirational."
"More reliable than your mother's wedding vows," Elias Thorn muttered as they walked. "She once said, 'No matter what you become, I will love you.' Later, when I became an alchemist, she kept saying I smelled like condensed milk."
Nora stifled a laugh. "I thought that was just the smell of milk you cooked in your alchemical pot."
"I was just trying to save coal," he defended himself.
The new student registration hall resembled a library that had been punished by being copied a thousand times. Glowing runic lights hung from above but flickered incessantly, as if experiencing emotional turbulence typical of adolescence. The walls were plastered with notices about academic integrity and warnings that transforming into a sheep in the hallways was against school rules.
"Don't turn into a sheep," Elias Thorn warned. "I've actually been through that."
After filling out her enrollment form, a teacher responsible for class assignments approached her. Her name tag read Yavon Spring, but her face was marked by social anxiety.
"Which sub-department would you like to join?" she asked.
"Which one has the least nobility?" Nora inquired.
"That would be the Deviation Alchemy System. Its main research direction is: everything could explode, unless it runs away first."
"It sounds perfect for me," she nodded.
"Please sign this 'Voluntary Assumption of Consequences' agreement." The teacher handed her a document that resembled a Black Magic Summoning Scroll. "And also sign this 'No Liability for Damaging Public Facilities but Must Repair' agreement."
"Is there anything else?"
"Yes, there's the 'No Revenge with Results but the Academy Will Not Interfere with Actual Operations' agreement."
"Very thoughtful of you."
She signed each document, and the teacher satisfiedly collected them.
As they stepped outside, Elias Thorn leaned against the doorframe, one hand holding Nora's suitcase and the other weighing a pie he had just swiped from the cafeteria.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "You are about to embark on your first, legal, insured magical revenge plan."
"I've already run through twenty-four different methods in my mind," Nora replied as she slung her bag over her shoulder, "eighteen of which could make that group of nobles voluntarily admit to their lineage fraud."
"I'm so proud I might explode," Elias Thorn said, his eyes shining. "More excited than when I blew up the Royal Capital Third Library back in the day."
"Dad, can we not bring that up? You've already been included in the History Textbook as a 'Negative Case of Improper Alchemy.'"
"History is written by the victors," he shrugged.
Nora glanced back at the academy's main entrance.
The towers stood tall, their ancient and crumbling stone walls covered in moss, yet still proudly upright. That was her battlefield, the place where she would restore her mother's name to the annals of history.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
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