Chapter 131 - 130: A Person Like a Stone

Chapter 131: Chapter 130: A Person Like a Stone

After reading the materials Jose O’Kenley had assigned, and completing the "post-class exercises" and "reflection questions" he had left behind, Gaode slipped his answer sheet under the notebook and quietly left the Rune Workshop.

"Read the materials on the desk first. You may leave once you are done"—this was Jose O’Kenley’s instruction.

Gaode had strictly followed it. Thus, after his departure, the massive Rune Workshop fell into a prolonged silence.

It wasn’t until much later that a faint noise broke the tranquility. It was the sound of an inner door within the workshop being gently pushed open. Shortly after, an old man walked out, leaning heavily on a cane.

The old man wore a highly archaic and weathered gray robe. It bore no patterns and was so plain it bordered on shabby. His hair was heavily graying, yet combed impeccably. Deep wrinkles lined his forehead, and his eye sockets were slightly sunken, but his blue eyes were not the least bit clouded; instead, they were as profound as a deep lake.

He looked rather exhausted. Given his advanced age, his energy was nowhere near what it used to be, yet he was undertaking the most mentally taxing work possible.

This was Jose O’Kenley, the tutor assigned to Gaode. He had not taken on a student in a very long time, nor was anyone willing to become his student.

This was despite the fact that he was a Third-Ring Mage. Despite his prestigious titles at Cyrus Academy: Advanced Tutor, Head of the Rune Department, and Chief Rune Tutor. Despite his expertise in Rune Armor, a field hailed as the "crown jewel of Rune Science." And despite him being the only Rune Master in the entire Sean Duchy capable of creating Tier Three Rune Armor.

However, the "Rune Logic and Computation" he dedicated his research to was dismissed as utter nonsense by the other tutors in the Rune Department, and even by the few high-tier Rune Masters in the entire Sean Duchy. They considered it a dead end leading straight off a cliff.

In fact, it was worse than that. Long ago, in the very place on this continent where rune technology was most advanced, Jose O’Kenley’s research had already been deemed a pipe dream and had been rejected more than once.

Every student knew that following such a tutor meant they would only "waste their youth" just like him, eventually "hitting a dead end," and perhaps failing to even graduate. Furthermore, Jose would not provide his students with any resources.

No one in the Sean Duchy understood why Jose O’Kenley—a man who once had boundless prospects and could effortlessly forge Tier Three Rune Armor fifty years ago—would immerse himself so obsessively in such a misguided path. Instead of raising his Mage Level, advancing his mastery in Rune Science, or attempting to forge Tier Four Rune Armor—an achievement that could alter the very ecosystem of the Sean Duchy and skyrocket him to the absolute top upon success—he poured all his time and energy into something that even a layman could tell was unfeasible.

Fifty years had passed, and he had made zero progress.

The other tutors in the Rune Department had tried to persuade him. Dean Shire Ian had tried to persuade him. Even King Jelos XIII of the Sean Duchy had personally tried to persuade him. Everyone hoped he would abandon this misguided path and return to the right track.

But Jose O’Kenley was just like the Water Gold Ore found in the mines beneath Kuli Cliff: gleaming with gold, yet stubbornly foul and hard. He remained silent, unchangeable, and unshakable by anyone. His research results mirrored his personality—similarly foul and hard. Translated into layman’s terms, it meant, "No matter how much time is spent, there is not a shred of substantive progress."

"It’s about time someone got dissatisfied," the very elderly Jose O’Kenley murmured.

He knew that the academy had forcibly thrust a student onto him this time, using the previous dean’s recommendation letter as an excuse, purely to serve as a warning.

Since arriving at Cyrus Magic Academy fifty whole years ago, Jose O’Kenley had poured all his energy into the seemingly dead-end subject of "Rune Logic and Computation," yielding absolutely nothing to this day. As a once-illustrious figure in the Rune Science circles of the Sean Duchy, he had gradually faded from the public eye. He was like the Sweeping Monk hidden away in the Shaolin Temple, merely sweeping the floor in silence while keeping his profound martial arts skills deeply concealed.

The academy had long been dissatisfied with his actions; the continuous slashing of the Rune Department’s funding over the years was a clear sign. Because of this, the other tutors in the Rune Department also had their fair share of complaints. Everyone wanted him to do the right thing, the thing he was supposed to do—create Rune Armor.

If only Jose O’Kenley was willing to refocus his energy on Rune Armor, it wouldn’t even take much time. Just making that decision would restore the Rune Department to its former glory. Yet, he stubbornly went his own way.

"I don’t have many years left. If I didn’t care about those things when I was young, why would I care about them now?" Jose O’Kenley said softly.

He didn’t understand why the academy couldn’t grasp this simple logic, but he knew he had reached the final years of his life. Despite spending so much time and energy, his research still had not achieved any breakthrough progress. However, Jose was not disappointed.

A mere few decades was utterly insignificant in the developmental history of Rune Science. Moreover, what he was trying to do was to completely subvert the entire existing system of Rune Science that had evolved over thousands, if not tens of thousands, of years. For one man’s strength over a few decades to take on this "monumental undertaking" was as impractical as a single grain of sand trying to fill the ocean.

History had long proven that to achieve a subversive or revolutionary breakthrough in any system, it required either the wholehearted, blood-sweat-and-tears research of several, or even over a dozen, generations, or the emergence of an epoch-making figure like Liemon, who had created Eighth-Ring Magic. Jose did not consider himself such a figure, nor did he harbor the extravagant hope of being one.

He was merely following his heart, researching what he believed to be right, aiming to leave a little something behind so that after his death, future generations would have some reference material and direction. Yet, after all these years, not a single follower had ever emerged, nor had anyone ever agreed with him.

Seeing that the heavens hadn’t left him much time, his state of mind began to undergo a subtle shift. If there wasn’t a single fellow traveler, or even someone who acknowledged his work, he feared that no one would remember his research after his death. When that time came, everything he had poured his life’s energy into would likely be seen by others as nothing more than a few absurd lines on scrap paper. It would be casually tossed into some garbage dump in the academy, left to rot alongside fetid food scraps, crawling with maggots.

The old man let out a faint sigh. He anticipated this possibility but had no way to prevent it from happening. Deep in thought, he walked up to the workbench in the center of the Rune Workshop.

Even though this student named Gaode had been forcibly thrust onto him as a warning from the academy, Jose had actually always been a highly responsible person. Regardless of how the student ended up there, since he had taken Jose as his tutor, Jose would properly teach him a thing or two about Rune Science. Naturally, the prerequisite was that the boy was willing to learn, and capable of understanding it.

He hadn’t accepted a student in so long that he had nearly forgotten how to teach one. That was why he had specifically carved out two hours the previous night to flip through introductory books on Rune Science—texts that had almost faded into a blur in his memory. He had then compiled some materials for Gaode to help him gain a preliminary understanding of the profound discipline of Rune Science in the shortest possible time.

However, as Jose swept his gaze across the workbench, he couldn’t find the materials he had prepared the night before. He thought carefully for a moment before tapping his cane in a bit of frustration. "I’m getting senile. I was in such a rush to get here for the tests this morning that I forgot to bring the materials, yet I subconsciously assumed I had them."

Then, another question struck him. Since he hadn’t brought the materials, what was that new student, Gaode, doing earlier? Did he just leave without seeing the materials or bothering to ask him about it?

Jose furrowed his brows slightly. He could understand if Gaode had "retreated in the face of difficulties" after reading the materials, but he couldn’t accept this sort of "leaving without a word."

"Sigh!" He let out another sigh, feeling that it was pointless to fuss over such things at this stage in his life. Still, the countless hardships he had endured in his youth just to learn Rune Science made him instinctively repulsed by the act of squandering a learning opportunity.

With these thoughts in mind, he began to sort out the calculation drafts he had casually left scattered the day before. Once they were organized and categorized, Jose closed his handwritten notebook, intending to take it back and copy it out a few more times. By making several more copies, perhaps he could ensure that at least one or two wouldn’t end up in the garbage dump?

The old man found his own thoughts a bit laughable, yet he genuinely intended to follow through with the plan.

However, upon picking up his notebook, the old man discovered a piece of drafting paper slipped underneath it.

"Is this a calculation I forgot to organize the other day?" he wondered.

His gaze subconsciously fell onto the drafting paper, landing on handwriting that clearly did not belong to him.

And so, for the first time in a long while, the tranquil old man’s pupils dilated. A sudden wave rippled through those eyes that had been as calm as a deep lake.