Chapter 34 The first type of secret story

"That's important." Metz put a hand on his forehead. Sweat dripped down from the fingers. It dripped all the way into where his nose should have been. "Since you said so. If the great author Willy Shaw also wrote this." He did not continue his previous emotions. Instead, the voice was calm. Like a box of unopened alchemy bombs, it is calm, peaceful, small and harmless, with small gold-plated letters on the side saying: "Handle with care".

Icha just shrugged.

"It's really important."

"Sometimes the devil says 'really' just to get the better of his deception."

"But this time it's true. And all the above are true." Yi Cha raised his eyebrows. "Great mathematician. You have learned 'sarcasm'. I want to know how Mathematical Olympiad views 'sarcasm'? I really want to know."

"...Fake data. This is how the Mathematical Olympiad is defined."

"And we all know how much arcane mages hate such forgeries."

"If hating is useful." Metz took a breath. Green sparks came not just from his eye sockets this time, but from between his dry teeth. He wiped his jawbone.

"I guess." He clicked his tongue. Spit out those sparks. "You want to say that the 'types of arcane stories' that Willy Shaw mentioned are related to our current situation?"

“It’s not just the situation.”

Yi Cha pinched the ball of yarn repeatedly. "There are not always so many useful things in Willy Shaw's masterpieces. Environmental backgrounds full of silly imagination, long-winded self-descriptions. Topics that are too small or irrelevant. Analogies that may not hold true. Maybe there are no edges, only islands of separation. . Maybe there is no cause at all, just fragments of the story. This is the work of Willy Shaw. And the Vientiane Forest is one of his works. It is very difficult to extract useful elements from these things."

One metz spits out more sparks. "One right answer mixed in with many wrong answers. Disgusting."

“One clock that correctly represents the current time, among many incorrect clocks.”

"You mean, there really is a correct time?" Yimeizi's voice rose slightly. It soon became gloomy again. He put down the hand that was soaked in yellow-green sweat - the dried area was quickly covered with sweat again. "Even if it does exist, we have no way of knowing which time is correct. After all, everything comes from Willy Shaw's 'moment of inspiration'."

Yi Cha looked at him with a smile. "no."

"Can you know? You have to tell me that 'momentary inspiration' can be speculated. Through those 'types of secret stories', we can know 'their general direction', thereby changing the current situation. Then control the world, control Willie Shaw.”

"No." Yi Cha laughed. "I mean. I don't even know if there's a right time, it's just another analogy that maybe doesn't exist—"

"—Follow me now."

He waved before the sparks from Metz increased. Falling towards the hall floor. After a while, he heard the voice of the original Olympian mage following him.

"You're too ambiguous. Ichaint," Imetz said behind him. "I hope you know you're still wearing down my patience. I need clarity to grow it."

They walked through long corridors, steps, ugly pillars, redundant traps. Sparks crackled. Casting a shadow in front of them.

"The palace of the Stabler." Yi Cha stopped and asked casually. "What is it?"

"It's where we are currently." Yimeiz replied coldly.

“Who is the Stabilizer?”

"Naturally it's one of us."

"What is Willy Shaw's first arcane story?"

"Trick. Narrative trick." You can see it. Discussing arcane stories causes the arcane wizard considerable pain.

"We say it is like this, and you think it is like this. It makes sense. But in fact it is like that." Yi Cha repeated what Willy Xiao said. "We all acquiesce in the first great law of arcane storytelling: everything in the story world revolves around the main character and the story. The Palace of the Stabler is yours, or mine, or your and my 'elephant', Stable The latter is naturally one of you and me. In one of the earliest presupposition calculations, you have determined that the image unfolds for the sake of being in it. In other words, it unfolds because we are here."

"I'm still confirming. There's nothing wrong with it."

"But Willy Shaw is a terrible author. He also likes those terrible little tricks." Icha grinned.

One Metz gave a dry buzz. "...That's right." He paused. "The first type of arcane story: trickery," he repeated. "Then - there is someone else who is stable." He turned his head sharply, his empty black eyes facing the extending stairs. Green sparks flew out. "Is he up here?"

"I've been there and looked. Nothing else exists."

"I don't understand. He must be here." Metz gritted his teeth again. "Stop playing with me. My patience is running out."

The demon looked at the skeleton mage with ease.

"Where is this?"

"...The Palace of the Stabler."

"How can an emperor be willing to receive two outsiders?"

"Gifts. For example, offering the heads of enemies."

Yi Meiz gritted his teeth and finished speaking, while Yi Cha couldn't stop laughing.

"You are about to lose control. Great mathematician." Icha turned his gaze away and stopped trying to anger the skeleton mage. "Your answer should be: the supreme truth in the world - the cosmological constant."

The demon raised his head.

"Stabilizer of the Vientiane Forest! Master of the Royal Palace!" he shouted loudly. "We brought you a gift!"

They stood still. Each is dark. A short moment of indeterminate length passed. There was a dull sound of gears turning from the depths of the darkness.

A new series of steps spread out over those redundant step traps, stretching upward. As they followed them, the lights began to come on one by one.

A screen blocked the end of the steps.

"Just right there," said a commanding voice.

"Hand over the gift." Yicha signaled to Metz. Ask him to report the calculation results of the cosmological constant.

The Primordial Olympian somberly did as he was told.

"Very good," said the majestic voice. There is no change in the tone of voice. "Now tell me what you want."

Metz spoke sharply: "We want-"

"I want to know the right time." Icha interrupted.

"It is now—" The commanding voice paused at just the right moment, as if he had actually glanced at the correct clock to get the time. "It's seven o'clock in the evening."

The original Olympian mage stared deeply at Yi Cha.

"Okay. Now it's time to answer my question. Unknown creature." He turned around and said.

"A tribute. A request." The majestic voice disappeared in the air.