Mage Adam-Chapter "357"

The main reason for the holiday was that the current location of the Institute of Atomic Energy had suddenly risen so sharply in importance that it was no longer suitable. A relocation had become an urgent matter.

Several True Spirit Mages had carved out a high-authority space in the Inner World. Only researchers, invited mages, and individuals with sufficient clearance could enter.

Taking advantage of his position, Adam secured his own private laboratory within this space, bringing all his clones with him.

Mages rarely ever felt fatigue. Their immense mental and soul strength allowed them to maintain peak condition under nearly all circumstances.

The Council of Mages’ rewards weren’t anything special—just the usual assortment of resources. The Archmages hardly cared. Although two True Spirits had proposed a vacation, very few mages actually went to rest. Most went out simply to boast.

And what did they boast about? Naturally—nuclear explosion magic, and all manner of blasts.

Which, of course, led to plenty of disasters.

After mastering rune groups, these mages couldn’t wait to toss hydrogen bombs around everywhere. But in truth, they still couldn’t properly control the output. As a result, both the caster and their “spectator friends” often ended up injured to varying degrees.

Still, that was the best-case scenario. Since both sides were Archmages, their lives were never truly at risk. But the destruction to infrastructure was enormous. The Council’s Enforcement Department became the busiest branch of all, running ragged every day trying to keep up.

Two days later, the Council issued a new regulation: nuclear explosion magic with a destructive force greater than Ten-Billion Fireball Spell was prohibited within the Mage World. Violators would be exiled for a hundred years.

And thus, the plane of Katos suffered misfortune.

After the Institute was founded, the low-energy creatures that emitted radiation had lost their value. The Council reinforced the Katos Plane and designated it as the testing grounds for new magic and weapons. High-level mages, unable to vent their emotions or mana, swiftly occupied it. On that plane, the ears were constantly assaulted by thunderous roars, and the eyes never ceased to see mushroom clouds blooming into the sky.

With no restrictions on mana or destructive force, these bomb-obsessed lunatics unleashed nuclear spells larger and larger, each afraid their mushroom clouds weren’t tall enough to save face.

The strangest of them all was Archmage Piers. Not only did he detonate his own explosions, he always insisted on standing near other people’s blasts as well—for reasons no one could fathom.

Adam too tested nuclear magic in Katos. His maximum output was equivalent to about Fifty-Billion Fireball Spell, achievable only after splitting the Aether to support it.

He discovered that while nuclear magic carried immense destructive force, its damage was purely physical. On the conceptual level, it had little effect. In other words, unless the yield was high enough, it couldn’t touch the laws themselves—it was nothing more than brute-force magic.

During this period, he experimented with magnetically confined nuclear fusion. But his mastery of magnetic fields and electromagnetic interaction was not yet refined enough to replace the current rune-group constraints. Still, Adam felt the breakthrough was close. His own unique version of nuclear magic was within reach.

When the holiday ended, the mages returned to the Institute and resumed their work. Having witnessed the wondrous and unfathomable phenomena of the microscopic world, their original perspectives had completely changed. No one could now persuade them to leave. This had become a cause worthy of their life’s devotion.

The particle accelerator became their favorite tool. The Council generously supplied three more, bringing the total to four accelerators running around the clock. The mages were enthralled, bombarding atomic nuclei with various rays, even colliding rays against each other. But progress was slow. At the proton and neutron level, further division was far more difficult than in Earth’s universe. Were it not for evidence suggesting that smaller particles must exist beneath protons and neutrons, they might have believed them indivisible.

Each time an accelerator was activated, it burned through an immense amount of funds. Adam could hardly bear to watch, and instead gathered several interested mages to study the hydrogen atom model and its spectrum.

This research went smoothly, but it revealed many new mysteries.

These problems sparked another wave of fervor. With little progress in probing sub-particles, the mages shifted their focus to this project.

In a short span, they had calculated and observed the hydrogen atom’s spectrum, orbitals, electron count, and proton number.

These results greatly accelerated Adam’s own research.

During this period, Adam once again conducted the photoelectric effect experiment. Unlike his previous hasty and fumbling attempt, this time—equipped with key data—his experiment was methodical and well-founded.

Photons were no longer vague and ambiguous shadows. They appeared clearly before him, observed and confirmed by his own hand.

At that moment, his soul began to ripple violently, evolving toward a mysterious pattern, changing its form with each passing instant.

Adam restrained the restlessness of his soul. As theories crystallized one after another, he felt the foundations were ready. It was time to conduct the most crucial experiment of all.

Once it succeeded, nothing would stand in the way of his ascension to Archmage. With his own method, he would pierce a clear opening in the barrier between thought and matter.

“The electron double-slit interference experiment? What’s that?”

In Adam’s office, His Excellency Prometheus asked curiously. He was intrigued by the fact that Adam would submit such a solemn application for this test. The boy’s strange ideas had repeatedly proven capable of changing the world.

Adam’s application requested experimental equipment. The original version of the experiment required only simple tools, but he felt that with current conditions, there was no need to be so crude. Clearer, more direct phenomena would better allow both himself and the mages to glimpse the mysteries.

“It’s a very interesting experiment,” Adam explained. “It can shatter some of our ingrained assumptions and let us witness the wonders of the microscopic world more directly.”

“Oh?” Prometheus said noncommittally.

Adam thought for a moment before continuing: “His Excellency Croft once told me that between thought and matter lies a box. Archmages can open holes in this box, granting magic its many mysterious effects.

“I picture this box as a cube. If the electron double-slit experiment succeeds, I’ll be able to open an entirely new hole—on the opposite side of the box.”

Prometheus gave Adam a deep look, then signed his name and wrote “Approved” on the application. The report was instantly uploaded into the Magic Net.

“Will the experiment be dangerous?”

Adam hesitated, then replied, “Not dangerous. But it may cause a conflict of perspectives.”

Prometheus laughed. “Then that’s no problem. I’ll be watching closely.”