I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Isabella didn't say much.

"Let's not talk about the front lines for now."

She picked up the bottle of wine.

As soon as Sofia saw the wine, she covered her glass with her hand.

"Mentor, I don't drink."

"Why aren't you drinking?" Price chimed in.

Sophia covered the glass: "Last time I passed out after just one drink in front of Richard, it was so embarrassing. I've learned my lesson this time."

"Do you remember last time?" Clara rarely joked.

"How could I not remember?" Sophia blushed.

"I later heard that Richard carried me back."

"You were talking in your sleep on Richard's back," Clara added.

"Stop talking, stop talking!" Sofia buried her face in her arms.

Price laughed uncontrollably.

"So, who's going to drink this today?"

"I'll drink it." Clara picked up her glass and drank it all in one gulp.

My aunt had already gotten herself drunk.

She blushed and muttered softly.

"A while ago... Sophia's telegrams went unanswered for a week."

"A week," Isabella clenched her fist. "Not a single word."

"Mentor..." Sophia looked up.

"For those few days, I couldn't write a single word of my paper."

Isabella's tongue is a little sluggish:

"You guys always make me angry, giving me a headache, but what if one of you just disappears without a trace..."

She didn't continue.

"Mentor, I'm back safe and sound." Sophia's eyes reddened again.

"It's good that you're back." Isabella took another sip.

She suddenly added, without any beginning or end.

"If you ever send a telegram that's too brief again, describing an 'accident' as 'no big deal'... I'll deduct your research allowance."

"Mentor, you're drunk," Clara said softly.

"I'm not drunk," Isabella insisted.

"I'm perfectly lucid; I can even explain the irregular conjugations in Ancient Greek to you..."

"Here they come," Price said to Richard in a low voice. "When the mentor gets drunk, he talks about displacement."

Richard was both amused and exasperated, and secretly replaced his aunt's glass of wine with grapefruit tea.

The conversation circled back to Mons.

There's been a lot of heated debate in academia lately, and all the graduate students here have heard about it.

The table suddenly became lively, filled with images of angels, Saint George, archers, light, and miracles.

Everyone has a different perspective on the same issue.

Isabella held her wine glass, watching the students at the table arguing back and forth.

As they argued, opposing camps emerged at the table.

"I said, destroy it." Price threw down his knife and fork. "It's eating people, what's there to argue about?"

"Cannibalism?" Thomson gripped the book. "It saved thousands of soldiers! How can you just destroy it like that?"

"It eats people." Price frowned.

"If it eats people, what's the point of keeping it alive?"

"How do you know it eats people?" Thomson asked.

Price was stumped.

The report describes how it saved people.

The report didn't describe how it ate people.

Sofia put the cup down.

"It eats people, that's true."

All eyes at the table turned to her.

"I saw a few of those rescued soldiers back home," Sophia said, her voice lowering.

"Someone said something to me."

"What?"

"He said..." Sophia mimicked the soldier's tone, a tone filled with fear.

Richard didn't get involved.

He sat there slowly eating what was on his plate, listening to the commotion of the people at the table.

Everyone wants to define angels as something they can control.

Price defined it as "a monster deserving of destruction";

Clara is defined as "a usable weapon";

Thomson defined it as a "miracle of saving lives";

Sofia didn't want to recall that time too much.

Richard didn't think about which one was right.

The things he had been pondering repeatedly in the editing group, in room 314, and in his own room were suddenly jolted by the chaotic thoughts swirling around his desk.

Suddenly, he saw clearly what was hidden beneath every word.

[Critical Thinking Level 2, Progress 100%]

Richard put one in.

[Critical Thinking Level 2 → Level 3]

The change came silently.

He didn't feel any smarter than before.

But the eyes in my mind that always pick on bones withdrew from the outside and turned to look at myself.

It revealed a series of thoughts within myself, as well as judgments that I thought I had figured out but were actually still lacking.

[Internal Awakening] took root completely at this moment.

Richard suddenly felt that every word that came out of the table was now laid bare.

Desire, fear, rationality, hesitation... everything is crystal clear.

"You're all wrong."

Richard put down his knife and fork.

Everyone at the table stopped upon hearing this.

"Senior Thomson said it was a miracle." Richard looked at Thomson: "You're half right."

"It really did hold off the pursuers and save those soldiers; the chaplain who accompanied the army was right about that."

"But it was created by those few thousand soldiers themselves."

Thomson opened his mouth.

"They saved themselves," Richard concluded. "They created an angel themselves."

The table was silent.

"Price said he wanted to destroy it." Richard turned to Price. "Actually, there's no need."

Why?

"Because it's already destroying itself."

"Senior Clara said to use it sparingly." Richard then turned to Clara: "But not necessarily."

"Why not?" Clara raised an eyebrow.

Richard looked at her.

"Because its methods of saving people and eating people are the same."

"It saves a soldier because the soldier trusts it."

"Every time you save someone, you take a wisp of their faith away from them. If you take too much, the person will become empty."

"A person who has been emptied out can no longer believe; even thinking feels exhausting."

Richard paused for a moment.

"It's eating itself."

"Fewer people believe in him, and he'll have more free time."

"Its strongest moment was the moment it was first believed in... The prayers and faith of tens of thousands of people filled it to the brim."

"But it was from that moment on that it was over."

"The more people it saves, the more it eats them, and the fewer people believe in it."

No one at the table responded.

"So what you're arguing about..." Richard continued, "is something that will resolve itself."

"All we can do is not give it a name or legend, and heal the soldiers it saved."

"It will fade away day by day, become a topic of gossip that no one mentions, and eventually disappear completely."

Of course, all of this is on the premise that the expert didn't take the item away.

This information is not suitable to be disclosed here.

Clara didn't say much.

At this point, however, he made the most crucial summary.

Richard is right.

"When something becomes extremely powerful, that's when it will collapse."

The table fell silent for a moment.

Then, applause broke out.

Price clapped the loudest, and Thomson followed suit, throwing the books aside.

Clara, Sophia, and even Richard's drunken aunt applauded their nephew.

Richard's face flushed slightly from the applause at the table.

Isabella lay on the table, her eyes still a little unfocused.

"...You little brat."

She picked up the "wine" that Richard had replaced with grapefruit tea and took a sip.

"When scholars argue, it's mostly about 'who's right.' One person says I'm right, and the other says you're wrong, and they argue until they're red in the face."

"In the end, all that arguing is about saving face."

She looked at Richard.

"But you didn't completely refute either side; you took both sides into account."

One wanted to kill, the other wanted to use, and with you they became one.

She put the cup down.

"This is what a debate should be."

Isabella's face was full of relief.

"Perfect timing, the debate week in October is just around the corner."

"Debate Week?" Price perked up as well.

Richard remembered that his aunt had mentioned this after the Cicero Cup.

"This year's debate week is different from previous years," Isabella said, her voice slowing.

"Why is it different?"

"Once the battle begins, the debate topics will likely change."

She didn't elaborate further, and her drunken face slumped back onto the table.

"...I'm sleepy," my aunt mumbled. "You guys...eat by yourselves."