Axiomatic Interrogation

"The opposite of a correct statement is a false statement. But the opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth."

— Niels Bohr

———

The Theoretical Mana Foundations classroom felt like sitting inside a crystal sphere filled with mathematics made manifest. Professor Laurana Delacroix stood at the center, her silver hair floating as if suspended in water, violet eyes glowing with soft inner light as she gestured toward the floating equations that danced around her like luminous butterflies. Her voice, clear and musical, carried the weight of centuries of accumulated knowledge.

"Axiomatic Dissonance," she explained, her ethereal form moving between the diagrams with weightless grace, "represents the fundamental scarring that occurs when reality's mathematical framework is... bent. Every spell, every skill activation, every manipulation of mana leaves traces—signatures that can be read by those who understand the underlying formulae."

I kept my head down, scribbling nonsensical notes in my journal while maintaining the posture of someone hopelessly lost. Around me, other students struggled with concepts that existed at the intersection of theoretical magic and pure mathematics. Marcus Vellum had given up entirely, staring out the window with glazed eyes. Thomlin Ashworth furiously copied every floating equation without understanding any of them. Even Fen, for all her physical prowess, looked like she wanted to bite something out of frustration.

But I understand every word. Every equation. Every implication.

The irony wasn't lost on me. In my previous life as Alex Chen, I'd been an engineering student with a solid foundation in mathematics and physics. The magical theory Laurana presented was complex, but it followed logical patterns that my engineering background could parse. The problem was that understanding made me dangerous. If I showed even a fraction of comprehension, it would contradict everything about my carefully constructed persona.

"The most fascinating aspect," Laurana continued, her violet eyes scanning the room with analytical hunger, "is that certain high-level skill interactions can create what we term 'transference echoes'—moments where abilities move between individuals through methods that should be theoretically impossible."

My pen stopped moving. Ice formed in my veins.

She's talking about Skill Plunder. She knows.

"Of course," Laurana added with the casual tone of someone discussing the weather, "such phenomena remain purely theoretical. No documented cases exist in modern magical literature."

The lie felt like a blade pressed against my throat. Her gaze swept across the classroom, lingering for just a moment longer on my hunched form than strictly necessary. Those violet eyes held the cold intelligence of a supercomputer processing data, and I had the horrible feeling that I was the data being analyzed.

The bell's bronze chime cut through the air like a salvation. Students began packing their bags with the desperate haste of prisoners granted reprieve. I moved faster than most, shoving my journal into my satchel and preparing to escape before—

"Student Leone."

The voice was clear, musical, and absolutely inescapable. Every other student in the room froze for a heartbeat before resuming their exodus with increased urgency. Nobody wanted to be present for whatever was about to happen.

"A moment, if you please."

I turned slowly, affecting the nervous confusion of someone who'd been caught daydreaming. Laurana stood at the center of the emptying classroom, her silver hair catching the light from the floating magical diagrams that still orbited her form. Her violet eyes held that same analytical hunger I'd noticed before, but now it was focused entirely on me.

The last student—Seraphina, I noticed—cast a worried glance back as she slipped through the doorway. Then we were alone. Just me and the most intellectually dangerous person in the academy.

Laurana glided toward me, her movements possessing that weightless quality that made her seem more like a force of nature than a physical being. As she approached, new diagrams began materializing in the air around her—complex mathematical structures that hurt to look at directly.

"Your academy records," she began, her voice maintaining that same musical clarity, "indicate a magical aptitude of nine. An F-rank classification. Quite remarkable, really—to possess such minimal mana capacity yet still qualify for admission."

I swallowed hard, forcing my hands to tremble slightly as I clutched my satchel. "Professor, I... my father made a substantial donation to ensure my placement. I'm aware that I'm not... academically qualified."

"Fascinating." Her violet eyes glowed brighter, and the diagrams around her shifted, becoming more complex. "Yet during your recent combat exercise with Student Thorne, my long-range analytical equipment recorded something most intriguing."

The diagrams coalesced into a three-dimensional representation that made my blood freeze. It was a magical signature—complex, layered, and undeniably mine. But it wasn't the signature of someone with F-rank magical capacity. It was the signature of someone who had stolen a skill.

"Observe," Laurana continued, gesturing toward the floating representation with one pale hand. "At precisely fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds into your match, there occurred what can only be described as an axiomatic transference event. A skill—specifically, Student Thorne's Power Strike ability—underwent a spontaneous migration from one magical framework to another."

My legs felt weak. This was worse than Seraphina's diagnostic abilities. This was mathematical proof of what I'd done, presented with the clinical detachment of a scientist discussing a particularly interesting specimen.

"Such an event," Laurana continued, her violet eyes never leaving my face, "should be theoretically impossible without the application of extremely advanced magical formulae. The mathematical framework required would necessitate understanding of at least seventh-order mana harmonics, coupled with an intuitive grasp of axiomatic manipulation that typically requires decades of study."

She paused, tilting her head with the curious gesture of someone encountering a particularly fascinating paradox.

"I am most eager to review your proofs, Student Leone. The mathematical framework you employed must represent a breakthrough in theoretical magical science. Perhaps you could walk me through your calculations?"

This is it. Game over. There's no talking my way out of mathematical evidence.