546 Theater of Destruction (2/2)

Lucien was finally able to read and learn the papers after the steel golem delivered his journals from the Review Board. He realized that, because Oliver's paper was too dazzling, the journals were filled with discussions about it. Other articles were the achievements in other fields or improvement in magic. The heuristic paper that Annick and Sprint proposed about the contradiction between the theoretical performance of the cyclotron and its actual performance received absolutely no attention.

That's not going to work. Lucien thought for a moment and took out a piece of paper. Picking up the quill, he wrote: On the Problems in the Application of the Cyclotron.

......

Inside the 'Theater of Destruction', collapsing and perishing stars were everywhere.

In the dark, terrible end of the world, certain brightness spread out gently but firmly. It seemed to be the last symbol of civilization.

As one approached it, they would discover that the shimmer was from a high-rising magic tower that was full of artistic air. Every window was ablaze with lights.

In the library, Oliver, whose magic robe had been changed into a sloppy pajama, was holding his quill haggardly and smoking his tobacco pipe, unable to write a single word for a long time.

His eyes were filled with the zealotry typical of artists. He seemed to have ignited and dedicated all the feelings in his heart to this long poem of love.

Suddenly, the tower guard's pleasant voice echoed, ”My lord, Mr. President has come to visit.”

Oliver put down his quill, frowning. A 'poet' and 'playwright' whose inspiration was disrupted tended to be agitated. He violently pushed the paper on which the love poem was written to a pile of paper on his desk, clearing an empty space. Then, he took a few deep breaths and resumed calmness on the surface. Finally, he rose and greeted Douglas at the door of his magic tower. In terms of both seniority and prestige, Douglas deserved his full respect.

Soon enough, Oliver led Douglas back to his library. Rubbing his eyebrow, he asked, ”Mr. President, is there anything I can help you with? I'm not in the best mood recently, and there's something urgent I need to accomplish. I won't be away from Allyn for now.”

It was a subtle refusal of being sent out for missions, which was also a privilege for the grand arcanists.

Douglas smiled. ”You can stay in Allyn and study the Douglas. There are no missions that require your help. I'm here mainly to discuss the application of transformation formulas with you. Have you seen my paper on 'Arcana' today?”

He, too, was aware of Oliver's recent divorce, and naturally did not assign any mission to him.

Oliver was more or less relieved. ”The transformation formulas? I'm glad to discuss it with you. Fernando and I had so many unresolved problems.”

”You discussed it with Fernando?” Douglas found it strange.

Realizing his mistake, Oliver hurried to explain, ”You know that Fernando is adept at many fields. He is a great partner to discuss with. I communicated with him before I submitted the paper.”

Douglas nodded in approval and sat on the opposite side of the desk. ”Let's discuss this problem.”

As if he felt that oral description might be too difficult, he took up another quill on the desk, drew a piece of paper, and was about to write the problem down.

On the paper, however, were a few lines of beautiful and affectionate poetry. Douglas shook his head and apologized, ”Did I interrupt your creation?”

While talking, he put the paper of poetry back to where it used to be and drew the pile of paper that was below it at the beginning. He thought that the paper down below was blank.

Still in a trance, Oliver was about to say that it was alright because he already had insights and he could continue his work in a right mood later, but all of a sudden, his eyes widened and he turned around like a wild storm, shouting, ”Not that paper!”

Douglas avoided Oliver's robbing out of instincts and looked at the paper in his hands, feeling it strange, only to catch the title on it that was in a very familiar handwriting.

”On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies and Mass-energy Equation”

Oliver's face immediately turned gloomy. The destruction in the cosmic theater out there seemed even more horrifying and dark.