Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 445 - 407 Subject 7
The Liches ultimately didn’t get their stakes back, as Andrey’s Executors were all helping the members of the Literary Society resist those crazed, rioting Liches. Having lost their reason, these skeletal frames were just shoving each other in disorder, howling and swinging their fists. This gave the enforcers a sigh of relief, although at this moment they would rather turn around and give the smug members of the Literary Society, frequent visitors of the Punishment Hall, a piece of their mind, even among the enforcers there were many Liches who had lost money.
But rules had to be followed, and accepting a loss in a bet was also one of Andrey’s rules.
Andrey’s riot did not continue.
The Literary Society did not reclaim the stakes they had won, but instead used those spoils to issue promissory notes, becoming the Liches’ creditors. Yes, the Literary Society wasn’t short of money. What they lacked was the "tolerance" of the Liches. Imagine, when the Literary Society causes trouble again in the future, if the Liches being persecuted happen to be their debtors. They grit their teeth as they watch, yet retaliation never comes. That state of being both angry and helpless was, clearly, a great pleasure for the Literary Society.
The Liches who got their money back breathed a sigh of relief, but they weren’t grateful. The sense of being wronged mingled with the Literary Society’s chuckling faces, and they certainly knew what the Literary Society wanted, but could only helplessly endure the quite shitty time to come. In the hearts of Andrey’s Liches, the status of the Literary Society had fallen even lower.
Although the Literary Society did not take the money from the losers, they did take ten billion from Mr. Delusion. Because traitors are more detestable, they even brought those bags of money in front of Mr. Delusion’s skull to show off, the Reporter Skull and the Gentleman Skull even sang songs around him.
The world where only Mr. Delusion was hurt was completed.
The lives of the Liches were protected, but the depression deep in their hearts was not relieved.
With the Literary Society now their creditor, the only object left for their emotional outburst was Nameless.
The Liches were chaotically ready to start their own actions but found that some had already earlier blocked their way.
"Apocalypse! What are you Advanced Magic Research members doing blocking the way?"
The heavy metal armor made Mr. Apocalypse look a head taller than everyone else, and the professors of Advanced Magic Research stood around Apocalypse, their faces hidden in the shadow of the gladiatorial arena’s stone walls, only those pairs of eyes shining with an unusual luster in the darkness, looking at their Lich companions.
And Nameless, was standing behind Mr. Gravity.
"Nameless is a member of our Advanced Magic Research Society, a Lich under my command," Apocalypse stated.
"Do you not see the chaos he has caused! He should be..."
"You should shut your mouth." Mr. Apocalypse stepped forward, the slit in his iron helmet revealing eyes emitting a sinister glow. "Do not attribute your idiotic actions onto my subordinate. The Literary Society is tolerant, because they are an artistic group, with literature’s own measure."
"But we are Advanced Magic Research. Under magic, only strict hierarchical power exists."
"Are you setting yourself against my society? Do you... want to disappear?"
The Lich took a small step back under Apocalypse’s threat and said timidly, "You are still not the first in Andrey." Then he turned and fled.
Apocalypse made no move and was not provoked as the Lich had imagined.
His voice was heavily muted by the thick armor; only a blurry whisper could be heard.
"I do not need to be the first, I just need to be stronger than him."
The Literary Society were the troublemakers among the Liches. The Advanced Magic Research Society, however, were the freaks among the Liches.
They were even more solitary than the Liches because their knowledge surpassed the era, and geniuses are always lonely. Apocalypse had already recognized his own anomaly while he was still in the Magic Research Society.
His knowledge, his insights, could not be recognized, because no one else took that step like he did.
The mirror chose to distort itself, to fit the understanding of this world.
Apocalypse chose to distort the understanding of this world, to satisfy himself.
The Advanced Magic Research Society was born.
The incomprehensible wisdom, the unexpected anomalies, Apocalypse accepted them all.
Gravity, Stasis, Fear, Electromagnetic, Death Star.
The emergence of one high-level professor after another proved he was right.
Apocalypse, the leader of these outcasts, maintained absolute tolerance towards them.
"But Nameless, if you don’t give me a good explanation, I will be very unhappy."
In Mr. Apocalypse’s gaze, the professors of Advanced Magic Research opened to either side, allowing Nameless to look directly at their own society leader.
"Don’t repeat that irresponsible nonsense. If you dare to say ’I am not responsible’ for the honor of our society, I will beat you up in front of your Gravity instructor,"
Everyone controlled their actions and didn’t make a sound.
New shouts erupted from the arena as a new gladiatorial fight began with the voice of Nameless.
"Gravity instructor, it was you who prepared ’Heavenly Movement All Phenomena’ for me, wasn’t it? I can also guess your intention, creating a chaotic gravity field with random phenomena to satisfy Nameless’s curiosity. You must have thought so,"
"Fate is unpredictable. We can only feel its arbitrary manipulation powerlessly. This feeling is even more profound on me because I can see the ’threads’ of fate."
"The president of Apocalypse once said, ’All that exists is born of chance, and all chance is a miracle.’"
"Gravity instructor, you’ve turned falsehood into truth."
"In the chaotic gravity field, I saw the mysteries of fate. The threads changed their color, changed their direction. With the help of simulating galaxies, I am no longer an observer of destiny; I am a guide of destiny."
"I have found the ’Rules’ that belong to me, that suit me."
"A new discipline."
"The seventh discipline of the Advanced Magic Research Society, and I will be its founder."
Nameless spoke faster and faster, his explanation like the victorious roar in the arena.
"It is my own discipline, it will interfere with fate, and I will surpass all the Diviners of the past and present, because they are slaves to fate, while I am the master of fate! All luck will become my companion, all misfortune will befall my enemies!"
"I will become fate; I will become the spokesperson of the gods!"
Nameless looked around, the indifferent expression gone from his face, his gaze sweeping over the professors and finally settling on Mr. Apocalypse.
"My discipline will be the strongest, surpassing all of your knowledge, even you, Mr. Apocalypse."
Nameless struck a self-assured pose, pointing directly at the imposing president.
Then came laughter from all members of the Advanced Magic Research Society, loud and unbridled.
Nameless frowned, looking at everyone, including his own instructor.
"You find this funny? You think I’m joking?"
The laughter from the Advanced Magic Research Society did not stop, and Mr. Apocalypse, slapping his thigh armor, stood up again.
"The reason we laugh is that you’re the sixth person who has pointed at my face and said that their discipline will surpass mine, Mr. Nameless," said Mr. Apocalypse.
"The sixth?"
"Gravity, Stasis, Electromagnetic, Death Star, Fear—they all made similar proclamations, although Mr. Fear was almost in tears at the time. Infinite confidence in one’s own discipline is indeed the foundation of the Advanced Magic Research Society’s pride."
"Nameless, I’m not sure how capable you are, but you indeed have the making of a professor."
"I am satisfied with your explanation."
"After all, honor is only the added value to our knowledge. If you have a new path, there really is no need to continue competing and wasting time."
"So, go ahead, future seventh discipline professor."
The members of the Advanced Magic Research Society left cheerfully.
Before departing, the Gravity instructor offered his congratulations.
"My student, have you thought of a name for your discipline, one that interferes with fate?"
Nameless nodded, "Of course, I’ve thought of it long ago. Because my discipline is about adjusting fate, the world’s most hidden and mystical power. Hence, I name it..."
"Occultism."
