Chương 58: Dismantling the Logic Core for a BBQ

[Time]: 11: 35 AM [Location]: Sector Zero They didn't land softly. They were Deposited. The mist receded like a tide, leaving them standing on a cold, black marble platform at the very bottom of the library. The Gentleman Cat re-assembled itself from the lingering smoke, floating at eye level. It looked slightly deflated, as if the effort of "remembering" the location had burned half its calories.

"Nyao." (Here. The scary place.) It pointed its glowing tail at the dark, silent rows of chained bookshelves ahead. Then, without a word of good luck, it curled up in mid-air. It dimmed the fiery red light in its belly to a low, rhythmic pulse—like a computer entering Sleep Mode to save power.

"Nyao..." (Cat is exhausted from thinking. Cat will nap. Wake Cat when chicken is ready.) Hathaway turned around and took a deep breath. Sector Zero. The silence here wasn't empty; it was holding its breath. The bookshelves were made of black iron, and every single book was bound in chains. Hathaway could feel eyes on her. Not human eyes, but the Spines of the books. They were watching. Waiting.

"Shelf C," Victoria whispered. She didn't consult the napkin. She couldn't see the text in this lighting anyway. She was navigating purely by the Mana Resonance of the shelf.

"Third row. Fourth slot." They walked to the shelf. It was empty.

"It's gone," Hathaway said.

"It's not gone. It's hiding," Victoria hissed, her unfocused blue eyes scanning the void.

"I sense a spatial distortion near your left foot. Something is pretending to be a rock." Hathaway scanned the area. The floor was polished black marble, flawless and cold. But near the leg of the shelf, there was a Grey Brick. A perfectly ordinary, dusty paving brick. Sitting on a floor of immaculate obsidian.

"Found you," Hathaway whispered. She lunged. Zip. The brick vanished instantly and reappeared three meters to the left, now disguised as a Potted Cactus.

"It's teleporting!" Hathaway cried, scrambling up, her knees skidding on the marble.

"I can't catch it without magic!" Without her mana reinforcement, her movements felt sluggish. Her lungs burned.

"Use the napkin!" Victoria shouted, pointing blindly in the direction of the mana spike.

"It's the Author's Token! It fears its Creator!" Hathaway pulled out Heidi's Napkin. She dipped her finger into the leftover Dragon Steak grease on the paper and held it up like a holy symbol exorcising a demon.

"Hey!" Hathaway shouted at the Cactus.

"Look who sent me! Mommy is watching!" The effect was immediate. But it wasn't surrender. It was Panic. The Cactus froze, sensing the mana signature of Heidi Lucent—the Mad Genius who wrote its paradoxes, the tyrant who mercilessly burned its draft pages when they were wrong. It didn't just shiver. It screamed.

"SCREEEEEE!" And then, Chaos. The scent of the "Apex Predator" (Heidi) sent a shockwave through the entire shelf. Every book in Sector Zero woke up. Thump. Thump. Thump. Hundreds of heavy, black-bound tomes slammed themselves against their chains, rattling like prisoners in a riot. Some sprouted leather bat wings and tried to fly away. Some grew spider legs and skittered up the walls. The "Cactus" deconstructed into a swarm of frantic origami bats, trying to scatter in a dozen directions.

"Catch it! Don't let it fragment!" Victoria screamed. She couldn't see the bats, but she could hear the pages fluttering. She swiped her wand blindly, knocking a flying dictionary out of the air. Hathaway gritted her teeth and dove. She wasn't using magic. She was using the "Dirty Street Fighting" techniques Lin had beaten into her during those grueling sparring sessions. She tackled the main body of the book in mid-air, slamming it onto the marble floor. Snap.

The book opened, revealing rows of jagged text that acted like teeth. It clamped onto her arm, trying to bite through her sleeve. Hathaway didn't flinch. She bit it back. Her teeth sank into the leather binding.

"Spit it out!" she growled, wrestling the writhing tome, pinning it down with her knee while shoving the greasy napkin directly into its face.

"Smell it! Smell your Mother!" Hathaway roared. The book convulsed once, sniffed the high-grade dragon grease, and realized resistance was futile. Poof. The illusion dissolved. It turned back into a thick, black-bound tome, shivering in surrender. [Deadlock Analysis in Chaos Theory regarding Wish Spell Paradoxes] Author: H. Lucent & N. Lucent.

"Got it..." Hathaway panted, wiping sweat and ink from her forehead. She spat out a piece of leather.

"Why are the books here so aggressive?"

"Because they are written by psychopaths," Victoria said, smoothing her skirt as if she hadn't just been blindly swatting at literature.

"Now, check the condition." Hathaway opened the back cover. She found the Borrowing Log. Victoria leaned in. She leaned in close. Since the bracelets cut off active spellcasting, her Mystic Eyes could still sense mana—but they were useless on mundane ink. She had to abandon her usual elegance. She practically buried her aristocratic nose into the dusty page, looking less like a scholar and more like a mole inspecting a root. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"It's blurry," Victoria complained, squinting until her long silver eyelashes brushed the paper.

"Read the red text for me. The mana residue there is angry." Hathaway read it out loud.

"Visitor: Lin Zhaojun (Alumna). Status: Overdue (Forcibly Retrieved)." Hathaway's eye twitched. Of course. Wherever there is chaos, she is there.

"Read the Incident Report," Victoria commanded, her tone suddenly sharp with interest. Hathaway sighed and read: [Administrator Note]: The Alumna triggered a trap in Chapter 4 and was sucked into the book's internal "Endless Desert" dimension. [Incident Report]: Subject ignored the riddle of the Sphinx. Subject claimed "Starvation" as a priority. She proceeded to hunt a Level 6 Astral Scorpion native to the dimension.

[Critical Violation]: To process the poisonous meat, the Subject dismantled the "Eternal Flame of Knowledge"—the dimension's S-Class Logic Core—and used it as a BBQ stove. [Subject's Defense]:"The Astral Scorpion's neurotoxins are heat-resistant. Only the 'Concept-Purifying' property of the Eternal Flame can neutralize the poison while creating a perfect Maillard reaction. It locks in the juices!"

[Result]: The scent of the "Perfectly Grilled Scorpion" permeated the dimensional barrier, attracting a swarm of gluttonous Mist Lantern Cats. The Cats broke into the sealed dimension to beg for food. [Penalty]: 50, 000 Contribution Points deducted. Guest Access suspended for 6 months. Hathaway stared at the log.

"..." Of course. We are here fighting for our lives, wrestling with origami bats just to borrow one book. And she was here dismantling the server room to cook dinner. If Lin found the Ultimate Truth of the Universe carved on a stone tablet, she wouldn't kneel and worship. She would use it as a cutting board to chop onions. Victoria stood up straight, a look of profound contemplation on her face. She adjusted her gloves, her expression deadly serious.

"Brilliant." Hathaway slowly turned her head. She looked at her friend with dead fish eyes.

"Victoria," Hathaway said flatly.

"You usually faint if someone bends the corner of a page. She dismantled the Logic Core of a Forbidden Tome. She vandalized the Sanctuary of Knowledge to get a smoky flavor on her lunch. And you call it brilliant?"

"It is not vandalism," Victoria corrected, her tone filled with the blind admiration of a true "Glory Hunter".

"It is High-Tier Alchemical Efficiency." Victoria tapped the logbook with her wand, as if teaching a class.

"Think about it. The Astral Scorpion contains lethal toxins. Standard fire cannot break the chemical bonds. She realized that the 'Eternal Flame' burns away 'Impurities'. She redefined 'Toxin' as 'Impurity' and used the environment to perform a molecular-level detoxification."

"She turned a lethal trap into a nutritious meal." Victoria's eyes shone with a twisted fanaticism.

"That isn't just cooking. That is Apex Survival Strategy." Hathaway rubbed her temples.

"You are hopeless.

"You know she is the G. O. A. T. of Dueling, the only Grand Slam Champion in history, right? You could admire her for her magic. But no. You admire her for being a Creative Scumbag. You are holding the work of your idol, praising the woman who gutted its internal dimension."

"So?" Victoria shrugged, her face the picture of shameless pragmatism.

"Heidi represents the Apex of Theory. Lin represents the Apex of Violence. I simply admire the Apex." She looked at the book with a satisfied smile.

"I am a fan of Success, Ludwig. Whether it's writing a paradox or grilling a scorpion, if you are the best at it, you have my respect." Hathaway stared at the Third Miss of Wellington. Yep. Consistent. She isn't a loyal scholar. She is a Bandwagon Fan. A Glory Hunter. A shameless Meta-Slave. Hathaway glanced at the Gentleman Cat floating nearby, its little bowtie twitching, then back at Victoria's deadly serious, fanatical face. Actually... I can't even judge her.

Thirty minutes ago, this 'Ice Queen Aristocrat' was ready to sell off the Wellington family estate — centuries of aristocratic heritage — just to bury her face in a giant, fluffy belly. And I was right beside her, actively calculating how many buckets of fried chicken it would take to kidnap a legendary kitten. We didn't just want the 'Infinite Mana Buff'. We wanted the Ultimate Furry Beanbag. For a Witch, 'Top-Tier Stats' plus 'Ultimate Fluff' equals absolute zero dignity.

Hathaway sighed, covering her face with one hand. If Lin proved that dismantling a library was the most optimal DPS strategy, Victoria would elegantly write a thesis defending it as 'Apex Survival'. And I would be the one standing next to her, ready to loot the server room. We are a match made in gamer hell. Two shameless min-maxers and irredeemable cat slaves sharing a dorm room. Beep. Beep. Their watches synchronized. 11: 55 AM.

"Save the scumbag philosophy for later!" Hathaway shouted, snapping the book shut.

"Five minutes! The Auto-Clean is starting!" They sprinted back to their guide. The Mist Lantern Cat (with the Top Hat) was currently snoozing.

"Wake up! We need to go!" Victoria threw the second bucket of chicken into the air.

"Nyao!" (Food!) The Lantern Cat woke up instantly. It swallowed the bucket in one gulp, defying physics.

"Cat is satisfied! Cat will now—" CLICK. A sound echoed through the entire dimension. It sounded like a massive, cosmic thermostat switching gears. The temperature didn't drop gradually. It plummeted. The floating white mist instantly stopped moving. Crack. The mist crystallized. The air itself turned into microscopic needles of ice. The "Auto-Clean Protocol" had begun. It was a sterilization process designed to freeze every biological pest, bookworm, and mold spore into oblivion.

The Lantern Cat's fur stood on end. The "Gentleman" persona vanished instantly. It didn't look terrified of death; it looked annoyed at the prospect of Inconvenience.

"Nyao! The Big Freeze! Shift is over!!" The Cat screamed, its red eyes widening.

"Cat does not want to be a Popsicle! Cat hates waiting for the thaw!" For a Lantern Cat, getting caught in the Auto-Clean didn't mean death. It meant being frozen in a block of ice for 12 hours until the cycle finished. It meant Boredom. It meant No Snacks.

"Hold your breath! Emergency Ejection!" The Cat opened its mouth—still smelling of the spicy chicken it had just swallowed—and Burped with the force of a cannon. BWAAAAH. A massive cloud of Charcoal and Crimson Mist exploded outward, intercepting the encroaching wall of white frost.

"Cat remembers the Tea! Cat remembers the Warmth!" [Feline Fog Warp: Emergency Recall] The world twisted. The biting cold of Sector Zero vanished instantly. The black iron bookshelves dissolved into grey smoke. Hathaway felt the familiar sensation of falling through the floor, her stomach lurching violently. THUD. THUD. Hathaway and Victoria hit solid wood. Hard. They weren't on the marble floor of the library anymore. They were sprawling on the warm, polished wooden deck of a familiar Tea House.

The air didn't smell of ozone and old dust. It smelled of Herbal Tea and Honey. SLAM. Behind them, in the distance of the Starry Rift, the massive ivory doors of the Great Library shut tight with a deafening boom. A layer of blue rune-light sealed the entrance. [System: Cleaning in Progress. Do Not Disturb.] Hathaway lay on the wooden planks, panting, staring up at the fake stars of the Rift. Frost was still clinging to her boots, melting rapidly in the warmth of the tea house.

"11: 59: 59," a calm voice drifted from above. Hathaway looked up. Nyx was sitting on her rocking chair, holding a steaming cup of tea. She looked at the two panting freshmen and the smug cat floating above them. She smiled, her eyes curving into gentle crescents.

"Just in time." She waved her hand. Click. Click. The [Mana Dampening Bracelets] on their wrists unlocked and flew back to her tray.

"I told you," the Winter Witch chuckled softly.

"Being rescued by me is chilly. I'm glad you chose the express route." The Gentleman Lantern Cat, having successfully warped them (and saved its own fur), floated lazily in the air. It patted its round, glowing belly—where two entire family buckets were currently being converted into pure mana.

"BURP." A small puff of golden smoke escaped its mouth.

"Nyao. Contract fulfilled. Cat is full. Cat is now off duty." It adjusted its top hat and tipped it politely to Nyx.

"Cat is going to find a radiator. Do not disturb Cat." With a satisfied flick of its tail, the Gentleman Cat drifted away from the tea house, fading into the shadows of the Starry Rift to digest its meal in peace. Nyx pointed a slender finger at the [Deadlock Analysis] tome now safely clutched in Victoria's arms.

"That book is technically 'Forbidden Knowledge.' The napkin authorizes a 24-hour loan. Do not be late returning it," Nyx took a slow sip of her tea.

"The fines in Sector Zero are calculated in... years of your youth."

"Understood, Lady Nyx," Hathaway bowed respectfully, rubbing her wrists where the cold metal had been.

"Thank you for the... opportunity."

"Let's go," Victoria whispered. Nyx and the cat had ceased to exist. She was hugging the black, ominous book like it was her firstborn child. Her eyes were wide, dilated, and fixed on the cover.

"I need to read this. I need to read this now."

"Not yet," Hathaway grabbed Victoria's shoulder, steering her zombie-like roommate toward the exit of the Starry Rift.

"To the Cafeteria. I'm going to eat an entire ocean."

"Negative." Victoria planted her feet. She pointed at the copy-spell glowing faintly in Hathaway's hand.

"The raw data is volatile. If we don't weave it into a physical lattice within 20 minutes, the logic loop will collapse. We have to go to the Lab. Now."

"But lunch..." Hathaway's stomach growled, a tragic sound of protest.

"Lunch can wait. The Logic cannot," Victoria said ruthlessly, turning toward the Laboratory Block.

"Move, Ludwig. If we lose this data, we lose the tuition waiver." Hathaway stared at her back.

"I hate Logic."