020. Minister of Education
Atkertz Ziegler lowered his head, pacing outside Minister Barcomon's office for half an hour, hesitating on whether or not to enter.
During this time, he kept looking at the student file in his hand, muttering to himself, "How do I handle this?"
If anyone else saw this scene, they would be shocked: Professor Atkertz, head of the Academy Committee under the Ministry of Education of White Candle Star, was holding a student file and contemplating showing it to the Minister of Education.
As a purely educational planet, the highest administrative body of White Candle Star is not the Mage Council but the Ministry of Education directly appointed by the Crystal Tower High Council. The current Minister of Education, Barcomon Baryevi Baste, is the true ruler of this planet, the man wielding its highest authority.
"How should I report this? No matter how I look at it, it's too suspicious. Reporting something like this at this time could very well anger the Minister. But if I ignore it, and it turns into a major problem later, it could affect the entire civilization."
To outsiders, it seemed that Professor Atkertz, only 78 years old, had risen to the top as the head of the Academy Committee, overseeing the alliance of sixteen universities, managing student admissions and resource distribution—an official with great power and a bright future ahead.
However, despite all this, Atkertz still felt a deep unease about dealing with Minister Barcomon.
This Minister had just returned from the second layer of the Abyss—Boundary Abyss—bearing the curse of Ascension, making his temperament strange.
Rumor had it that he was the biological son of one of the elders in the High Council. He was supposed to remain on the home planet, but due to the curse of Ascension, he was mistrusted and sidelined. Afraid of his power, they placed him on an educational planet, where his talents wouldn't be wasted, but he wouldn't cause trouble either.
Atkertz had never been to the Abyss. As a young man who had just entered the Iota (Ι, ninth Greek letter) tier, he wasn't planning on descending too soon to break through the barriers. The Minister of Education, however, was already a true veteran of the battlefield, having reached the Kappa (Κ, tenth Greek letter) tier. If he wanted to, he could obliterate the planet in an instant.
Yet, Atkertz had no idea whether the information he was about to report would provoke or upset the Minister.
This wasn't a pleasant task. Dealing with someone like the Minister was psychologically draining.
After much hesitation, and following his basic bureaucratic instincts, Atkertz finally decided to knock on the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in."
A calm middle-aged man's voice called out, and Atkertz straightened his formal mage's robe before pushing the door open.
As he entered, the first thing he noticed wasn't the desk but a large painting hanging on the wall. The artwork was exquisitely detailed but depicted chaos and abstraction—a fat woman disemboweled by a cold blizzard, a baby transforming into a giant standing tall, ripping out of her belly while holding its umbilical cord like a whip, thrashing flames and smoke. Praying mantises the size of spaceships were riding humans, firing beer bottle caps like popcorn at the baby's feet, tearing green wounds from which gold coins and porridge spilled out.
Each element in the painting was understandable to Atkertz individually, but combined, they only invoked a sense of physiological discomfort and horror. He felt as if he could grasp the painting's meaning, but its abstract representation and overwhelming emotion overpowered his reason.
"No need to force yourself to interpret the painting, Chief Atkertz."
The middle-aged man's voice snapped Atkertz out of his daze. He quickly looked away from the painting and respectfully addressed the man sitting behind the maple desk:
"Minister Barcomon, I apologize for disturbing your work."
"No matter, I don't have much work today."
Barcomon was a stern-looking man with a clean-shaven head and neatly trimmed beard. His inverted triangular eyes and bear-like physique made him look less like a mage and more like a warrior. But that wasn't what stood out most.
The first thing Atkertz noticed about Barcomon was his strange aura—light seemed to distort slightly around him. Although Atkertz knew the military man's posture was straight and his demeanor composed, Barcomon's features appeared spiraling and twisted, giving off an uncanny impression.
Barcomon noticed Atkertz's hesitation and odd expression, casually explaining:
"That painting is a specialty from the Abyss. I was lucky not to have it confiscated by the Narrative-level beings."
The implication was clear—it was all due to the Abyss.
"Sit down. This isn't Narrative territory, no need to stand while talking to a superior."
When he mentioned the Narratives, his tone involuntarily sharpened, with a flash of displeasure and resentment in his eyes.
Sensing the opportunity, Atkertz quickly chimed in, "The Narrative-level civilizations are the overlords of the universe. They've been so accustomed to running rampant that they think the whole universe revolves around them."
"Hmph, I've met General Hercules of the Empire of Heroes—arrogant, narrow-minded, and conceited. In the Abyss, if it weren't for their numbers and shared curse, they'd never have done as well as I did on their own."
Barcomon grumbled:
"And as for the Holy Temple of Annihilation, they're even worse—a bunch of fanatical missionaries, always searching for something called spirit worms. Many have died for it, and several have gone mad. Then there's the scum from the United Enterprises—they're all in that bastard Red King's pocket, not a single decent one among them."
Atkertz's eyelid twitched, cautiously advising:
"Blaspheming gods might not be wise, especially when He is the patron deity of the Reaver Path."
"No need to worry. The Holy Temple and the Empire of Heroes curse Him all the time. Never seen a group of teammates so willing to stab each other in the back. I'm never working with them again."
Barcomon dismissed the concern, unconcerned:
"Besides, Red King has already betrayed the Abyss. And anyway, He wouldn't even notice small fry like us. Curse away—now, you didn't come here just to talk about the Abyss, did you?"
Since Barcomon had asked about his purpose directly, Atkertz felt a bit more at ease. He carefully chose his words:
"Minister Barcomon, during today's magical aptitude exam on White Candle Star, we encountered a particularly special student."
"Oh? How special is he, that you, the youngest chief of the Academy Committee, felt the need to teleport here in person to discuss it?"
Barcomon's mood had lightened after the small talk, and the normally stern military man even teased Atkertz:
"Come on, tell me—you didn't admit a hairless rat to university, did you? Actually, it wouldn't be a problem. The Crystal Tower is a very inclusive civilization. As long as they aren't bioengineered mutants or malicious man-eating creatures, we'd happily accept silicon-based or atmospheric life forms. It shows our interstellar influence."
Barcomon even added a dark joke:
"Even though we're not connected to interstellar civilization."
"It's good that you're so open-minded, but I fear something might go wrong, and you'd end up having to take responsibility."
Atkertz half-playfully replied, showing a concerned expression:
"Minister Barcomon, this student finished the exam in just five minutes."
"Five minutes?"
Barcomon was stunned:
"I didn't expect—such a genius from the Abyss? If I recall correctly, after the exam reform 20 years ago, the number of questions was increased by 40%. For a Gamma-tier mortal, even finishing in five days is impressive. He finished in five minutes? Has he already become a transcendent?"
"At first, we suspected him of cheating or using magical or technological means, but everything was normal. There were no traces of plugins, and his magical fluctuations were stable, ruling out cheating."
Atkertz explained:
"While objective questions can be cheated on, subjective questions are impossible to cheat on. No matter how someone tries to avoid it, they can't change the fact that they are subjectively influenced. Their writing will inevitably reveal their thoughts and soul. You can discern the author's stance, knowledge, education, and even their emotional and physical experience from their work. After our investigation, we confirmed he didn't cheat."
"Then that's great news! Our planet has produced such a genius—contact the High Council immediately and get this young man into the Crystal Hall. He's a key talent we must nurture."
Barcomon was delighted, his face twisted by unseen forces into a grotesque smile, which disturbed Atkertz deeply.
"So, you came here just to tell me: Minister, we've struck gold? Is that it?"
"Well, there's more to it. You'll understand once you take a look."
Despite his discomfort, Atkertz handed over the student's file.
Barcomon took the neatly organized papers, and Atkertz immediately noticed that the text where Barcomon's fingers passed over warped unnaturally, as if light were being bent by gravity, or wires coiled themselves into spirals.
"His name is Leozi. Hmm, nothing special, pretty common. I could throw a stone and hit ten poor souls with the same name as gods and angels, whether it's Red, Arthur, or Leviathan..."
"People's creativity is so impoverished."
Atkertz rubbed his nose:
"Most parents name their children with certain hopes in mind, and some give their children the names of great figures. Of course, there are also those who deliberately choose lousy names."
"You're right, after all, a cheap name is easy to raise."
Barcomon chuckled knowingly, as if recalling a happy memory:
"My father even considered naming me 'Archimonde'—supposedly the name of a great demon, hoping it would ward off evil from me. But enough digression, let me see this Leozi's scores: Objective questions, full marks. Experimental questions, full marks. Subjective questions, full marks. The essay..."
The more Barcomon read, the more his expression turned strange. His face, already warped by some uncontrollable force, became even more distorted.
He spread out the report, carefully reading each line, his eyes stern and intense. His furrowed brow bulged, with veins popping out on his bald head like worms, giving him a terrifying and menacing appearance.
Barcomon placed both hands on the desk and slowly stood up, holding the report as he began pacing around the office. He walked to the bookshelf first, shaking his head back and forth, his brow still furrowed. Then, ignoring Atkertz entirely, he sat down on the sofa, scratching his head, resting his chin on his hand, his face practically scrunched together.
After a while, he walked over to the window, hands behind his back, gazing out at White Candle Star, shrouded in white atmosphere, from its orbit.