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墨書 Inktalez
On the third day of her enrollment, Nora officially experienced the profound meaning behind the name "Wushen Academy." This institution did not believe in deities, royal authority, or bloodlines, and at times, it seemed to have little faith in logic as well.
For instance—her class schedule was blank. It wasn't just "no classes"; it was the kind of emptiness that suggested nothing had been written at all. The pristine parchment resembled a forgotten blessing, so clean it was unsettling, with only a crooked note in the upper right corner stating: "Your courses are determined by you, or you are determined by your courses."
She took her schedule to seek out the guidance of the professor of the Deviation Alchemy System, an old wizard named Oswald Flynn. He sat in his office, adding cooling runes to his hat while holding a book filled with annotations on spells, reciting incantations in a voice reminiscent of boiling pumpkin.
"Professor, my schedule is blank," Nora said as she handed him the parchment.
The old wizard glanced at it and nodded. "Normal."
"When do I have classes?"
"Wait for your textbooks to come find you."
"…?"
"Your textbooks haven't decided whether you're worth teaching yet," he said as if discussing a difficult cat. "They've grown legs of their own—you'll need to employ some tactics to catch them."
"Can I use a net?"
"Sure, just don’t blow up the library."
As Nora left the office, she fell into a brief moment of existential doubt. Her life goal was to become the quietest, most low-key avenger who executed plans with precision—not to chase after a runaway Magic Textbook throughout the campus.
But clearly, the characters in this academy were even more outrageous than she was.
The first textbook was discovered beneath the sink in the restroom. The cover was crumpled, and she could vaguely make out the title "Possibilities of Alchemy and Its Legal Responsibilities," but it was trembling—upon seeing Nora's gaze, it resembled a fawn caught in the sight of a predator.
She cautiously reached out her hand.
"Don’t be nervous; I’m here to… learn."
In an instant, the book darted into the drain.
“...Should I learn some tracking magic?”
The second textbook was one she encountered in the cafeteria.
It was a pink-covered copy of *Mind Magic Primer*, looking quite girlish, even adorned with shiny unicorn stickers. But this book was sitting on the edge of the table, flipping its pages with a fork, while grumbling:
“I refuse to teach students who can’t distinguish emotions anymore! The last person in my class mispronounced the ‘Encouragement’ spell as ‘Mockery,’ which led to the Club President being depressed for three days!”
Nora tried to establish a connection with it.
“Would you mind giving me another chance? I have a clear sense of empathy,” she smiled.
“Your empathy is all about revenge.”
“Isn’t that an emotion too?”
“Well... that seems somewhat reasonable.” The textbook hesitated, “Then can you tell me your emotional response to the recent incident involving a Noble of the Parliament ‘falling off his horse’?”
“Extremely sad. Because he didn’t fall directly into a dung pit.”
The textbook fell silent for three seconds before snapping itself shut and jumping into the grass outside the window.
The third attempt was in the library.
Nora quietly walked past the bookshelves, closing her eyes to sense the magical fluctuations. This state was called “Quiet Reading,” a perception spell taught by her mother.
Her footsteps stopped in front of a book with a light golden cover: *Fundamental Constructive Magic and Alchemical Entity Binding Principles*.
She whispered an incantation: “Eileen Black’s annotated edition.”
The book trembled slightly, as if it had suddenly heard an old friend’s name.
“You know her?” The book turned a page slightly.
“She’s my mother.”
Silence.
In the next moment, the pages slowly opened, as if letting out a gentle sigh.
“She... is a genius,” the book murmured, “more aware than all the instructors at this academy.”
“I inherited her logical abilities,” Nora said softly, “but I’m better at patience.”
“Very well.” The textbook nodded, “You can learn from me, but please promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“When you decide to take revenge, don’t rush into action. Wait until they feel safe, then strike.”
Nora smiled, “That’s exactly part of my plan.”
As she appeared in the hall of the Deviation Alchemy System with the textbook that had finally agreed to return to her dorm, Elias Thorn happened to emerge from the end of the corridor, dragging an old suitcase labeled “Incomplete Magic Circle.”
“I’m here to help you set up your dorm,” he said, like a father pretending not to worry about his daughter’s independence, “and to see if there are any magic engines in need of ‘free repairs’ at this school.”
“What are you planning to blow up?”
“Not blow up, improve,” he replied seriously. “It’s just that the word ‘improve’ always sounds like hiding explosives to the Magic Council.”
Nora chuckled softly.
She glanced down at the textbook in her hands that had finally quieted down—it seemed to sense some kind of fate and opened a page that read:
“Constructed Objects will not deceive you, but they also won’t tell you when someone has tampered with them. Just like nobles.”
Nora felt a stir in her heart.
Revenge never required much ceremony.
Sometimes, all it took was a book willing to speak the truth.
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