I loaded the Mysticism panel.

"Cross-examination," the host began. "The affirmative side goes first."

Thorpe walked up to the podium.

"Miss Fafield, is it fair to pardon your only son for those who are already dead?"

Clara looked at him.

"Mr. Thorpe asks a good question. That depends on... on whether the person you sent up was there to fill a hole."

She raised her hand and conjured a trench out of thin air beside the stove.

"What the front lines lack are soldiers who can fight."

A reserve soldier who can carry a gun and is useful when he is assigned to a position is going to fight.

But some families' sole breadwinners, just to make up the numbers, were relegated to the trenches to endure the first volley of shells.

Clara tapped a spot on the edge of the trench with her fingertip.

"Some families are chosen based on who can't speak up or offer money, so the son of that family is chosen first."

What could be avoided couldn't be avoided, and what could be avoided was avoided entirely.

A collective gasp filled the lecture hall.

Some insiders know that none of the three Thorpe brothers actually went to the front lines; the eldest brother held a nominal position as a rear-area supply officer.

Clara didn't look at Thorpe.

Her gaze fell on the trench where she stood.

"In this conscription, not a single able-bodied man was added to the places that should have been filled, and not a single cannonball was fired in front of those who should have been blocked."

It was filled in for families with no connections.

Richard sat in the audience, a slight jolt running through him.

Clara was more sensible than Catherine.

Those who understand, understand; but she remained true to the topic of the debate and never crossed the line.

Thorpe's face turned a deep shade of liver, yet he was utterly helpless in the face of this topic.

"Three minutes to wrap things up," the host began. "The affirmative side goes first."

Thorpe walked to the podium.

He was seething with anger, but he needed to steer the conversation back on track during the closing phase.

"Miss Farfield cleverly divided the recruitment into two categories."

Regardless of the type, someone has to fight the war, and an only son is still a son.

The affirmative side maintains its original argument.

He spoke haltingly during this part, and the ether was also in disarray.

Under Richard's spiritual vision, the scales swayed violently.

"The opposing side concludes."

Clara walked to the podium.

On the other side of the curtain, the stove in that family's house was still lit, and two white-haired old people were looking up at the stove.

The opposing side believes that those who should be sent are soldiers who can fill vacancies on the front lines.

It depends on exactly where the people who went to the front lines went... whether they were deployed to the front lines or filled in a household that shouldn't have been filled in.

"The opposition maintains its original argument. That concludes the discussion."

Thorpe's scales were wobbling so badly they almost tipped over.

The host announced this on stage.

Game 5 of the finals.

The opposing team leads by 1.0 points and wins.

Richard looked at Clara on the stage.

She won cleanly, both avenging her junior's defeat yesterday and avoiding any trouble for herself.

Thorpe's face turned ashen as he walked off the stage.

He probably wanted to say something as he passed by Clara.

Clara didn't look at him, and turned to walk down the steps.

Phillips leaned in. "That was great!"

He raised his teacup: "I've avenged you!"

"Um."

"Your senior is really amazing," Phillips said with admiration.

"He usually seems quiet and reserved, but when he made a move, he revealed all the connections within the Thorpe family."

Richard smiled.

Clara walked down the steps, passing Richard's side.

Richard stood up: "Senior."

Clara stopped and glanced at him. "Finished reading?"

"I've finished watching it."

Richard was a little embarrassed:

"Yesterday's match was due to my own inferior skills, but today I need you to stand up for me."

Clara hummed in agreement, then suddenly asked, "Have you eaten yet?"

Richard didn't know why the other person asked that: "...I ate it."

"That's good." She said in a flat tone.

"You boys tend to get stuck on things when you lose, so don't forget to eat."

"Okay, thank you, senior."

Richard thought about the upcoming schedule:

"Senior, are you... going to run into Silas next?"

Clara nodded:

"Sit in the front and watch carefully. If you don't understand something, come back and ask me."

After saying that, he turned and left.

………………

By the last day, there weren't many people left.

Richard arrived at the lecture hall early and found a seat near the front.

Phillips sat down with his tea, and his fiancée Constance, who was also there, sat on the other side.

There were eight people left in the side hall.

The first two games were played very quickly.

Clara won.

But she won with difficulty.

Clara managed to claw back her points by using words, even though her opponent's ethereal defense was also thick.

In another match, Silas faced off against another graduate student.

The graduate student opposite him was pressed down by him, and the whole thing floated towards the surface of the curtain.

Silas didn't even need to push much; the wall welded into the curtain simply stood there, and the opponent's form receded on its own.

It's frighteningly easy.

Silas and Clara were scheduled for the third match.

Debate Topic: Should those who die for their country be called heroes or wronged souls?

Richard glanced at the audience.

In the autumn of 1914, an unprecedented scale of death struck everyone for the first time.

The sons of the upper class also died in the trenches, and every ordinary family had someone who would never return.

How to address these dead is the most painful question for the entire nation.

The two young men on stage were debating whether or not their son should be called a hero.

"Silas Penrose, for the affirmative, hero."

"Clara Faffield, the opposing side, a wronged soul."

Richard's heart sank.

In front of a group of people whose sons are on the front lines or have just died, they should refer to their sons as "wrongful spirits".

Naming is the scholar's duty and the right to define.

They are called "heroes," and they rest in peace and dignity as heroes, which inspires the living.

But this very name also fueled the flames of war.

They are called "wronged souls." Once the truth is revealed, they may be able to rest in peace.

However, "admitting you've been wronged" is tantamount to pointing those voices of resentment in a direction that is even more dangerous.

Both names come with their own price, and no one can say which one is right.

"Six minutes for the opening statement, affirmative side goes first."

The silver line around the ground lit up.

Silas walked up to the podium.

Those in the audience who couldn't see the curtain leaned forward slightly, their hearts filled with a strange desire to believe and be comforted.

Silas spoke, his voice steady, each word resonating deep within the curtain.

"The heroes I am here to honor today."

"The people of Heituhe believe that a person has many souls, one of which is called 'name'."

As long as his name is still spoken, he is still alive;

A name is truly dead when it is forgotten or erased.

They call it "the second death."

On the other side of the curtain, a stone wall of a temple was erected.

Under Richard's spiritual vision, the stone wall was densely covered with names.

A stone warrior statue stands before the wall, gripping a weapon and gazing ahead. His face shows no pain, only an almost sacred serenity.

"Ramses II, fought the Hittites at Kadesh."

Upon returning home, he had the battle inscribed on all the great temples of the empire.

A battle carved into the stone became an enduring legacy for three thousand years.

Silas gestured towards that stone wall.

"By engraving the names of those who died for their country as heroes, they will live on forever in the memories of future generations."

Ether was poured into the stone wall along his hand, deep and steady.

"A soldier was eating hard bread in the trench, listening to the gunfire overhead. What sustained him was the thought that 'My death has meaning, I will be remembered.'"

"The affirmative side argues: Those who die for their country should be called heroes. That's all."

Applause broke out, and several ladies in the front rows of the public gallery took out their handkerchiefs.

Their sons are on the front lines, and they need to believe that their sons are heroes.

"The opposing side's argument."

Clara walked to the podium, her voice calm.

"Mr. Silas's wall of heroes gave the dead peace."

"Let him rest in peace as a hero, and the living will be inspired."

Encouraged, we sent another batch to the front lines.

The next batch dies, then they're hailed as heroes; a line is carved on the wall, to encourage another batch to be sent.

"This wall is a wall that can never be completely carved."

Every time someone dies, another name is added to the wall; the higher the wall, the more people have died.

"Because the act of facing the wall itself is something that encourages people to die."

She looked across the podium.

"Most people don't know why they're going to die. They're persuaded to go to the front lines by a 'hero,' and they die in the mud."

The mothers in the audience were visibly heartbroken, and several of them lowered their heads.

Some people believed in their hearts that what Clara said was true, but no one wanted to call their son a wronged ghost.

During the cross-examination, Clara pointed out the "urging people to die" message hidden under the wall, but Silas used ether to push the entire wall forward.

The exquisite truth cannot withstand the weight of heavy comfort.

"Three minutes to wrap things up," the host began. "The affirmative side goes first."

The stone wall, fed with ether, stood motionless within the curtain.

Silas walked up to the podium.

Those who die for their country should be called heroes.

"A name is right if it can bring peace to the dead and give strength to the living."

The affirmative side maintains its original argument. End of statement.

"The opposing side concludes."

Clara walked to the front of the podium and looked at the wall of heroes standing motionless opposite her.

"A name that brings peace of mind doesn't mean it's real."

"The opposing side insists on its original argument. The truth is cold, but someone has to speak it out."

The judges' discussion lasted a full ten minutes.

Richard, sitting in the audience, already knew what the outcome would be.

The host announced this on stage.

"The affirmative side, Silas Penrose, has a verbal score of 9.0 and an announcement score of 9.6."

Clara Faffield, representing the opposing side, scored 9.3 points on her remarks and 8.4 points on her declaration.

The affirmative team leads by 0.9 points and wins.

In the two afternoon matches, Silas dominated and took the lead in the overall standings.

Granting the title of "spokesperson" allows one to represent academia at the Imperial Academic Conference.

After the awards ceremony, Richard came out of the lecture hall.

Pendleton was waiting for him at the door.

"Williams, congratulations."

"What's there to congratulate?" Richard chuckled. "You were eliminated in the first round."

"Even a first-round exit depends on the person." Pendleton took a piece of paper from his pocket: "Take a look."

Richard took it.

That was a ranking of the overall results.

In the preparatory group, Richard's name was listed first.

In terms of overall ranking, Richard is in the upper-middle range.

He pointed to the end of the paper, where there was a separate annotation.

"A potential spokesperson worth keeping an eye on in the long term."

Richard's gaze lingered on that line of text for a moment.

"What does this mean?"

"It means your name has been put on a separate list."

"You were first in preparatory course, and your verbal scores were almost always high. The only one you lost to was Ether."

Pendleton took the paper back.

"The judges could see it clearly."

Pendleton continued, "Your senior, Clara, also finished fourth overall."

"That concludes the discussion with thoroughness."

He nodded to Richard.

"Go back and get some rest."

As the two were talking, a red-haired figure walked over from a distance.

Catherine walked up to Richard, took out a small notebook and pencil from her purse, quickly wrote a line, and turned the notebook over.

"First place in preparatory course, congratulations!"

Richard looked at the line of text.

"And you?" he asked. "Is your throat feeling any better?"

Catherine shook her head and wrote another line.

"Soon."

"Catherine".

The red-haired girl looked up.

"Once your voice is better, I'll treat you to a big meal."

"It's not a meat pie."

Catherine's eyes crinkled slightly.

She wrote a line in her notebook and showed it to Richard.

It's a deal.