Chapter Fifty-Two: The New Feature of the Prague Answer Chair

After listening to Bill’s explanation, Andy fell silent. He stroked Catherine’s slightly rigid body, his mind suddenly growing calm. “You said there’s a way to save her. What is it?”

He knew the situation was urgent now; Bill wouldn’t waste time introducing anything meaningless.

“Soul trials are usually completed by the ascendant alone, but ten thousand years ago, in another vast realm, the Arcane Empire developed many ways to increase the chances of passing these trials. One method we can use now is the Prague Question Chair.”

“Prague Question Chair?” Andy was puzzled.

According to Bill, in the Arcane Empire, it wasn’t called the “Prague Question Chair,” but the “Prague Learning Machine.” Its main purpose was to help apprentice arcanists master basic arcane knowledge through a series of questions and answers.

Back then, correct answers would earn rewards from the machine, while incorrect answers would result in an electric shock—never exceeding the apprentice’s endurance—as punishment.

Of course, it wasn’t just punishment; the machine would automatically adjust the frequency of the shocks according to the apprentice’s mental fluctuations, thereby strengthening their willpower.

Moreover, after answering a hundred questions correctly in a row, the Prague Learning Machine would unlock a new function: it could then answer the apprentice’s questions. At that time, the machine contained nearly all elementary arcane knowledge.

Foundational knowledge is often the most rigorous—so unassailable, in fact, that even the most erudite Grand Arcanists could hardly stump the Prague Learning Machine with their questions.

Later, the latest models gained a new function: they could help arcane apprentices pass through their soul trials and ascend to Bronze Arcanist.

But to unlock this function, one had to pose an arcane question that the Prague Chair could not answer. If it was stumped, the chair would activate a new mode, enabling the merging of two people’s soul trials.

Thus, the elders of apprentice arcanists often used this feature to help their juniors advance. Having already endured their own soul trials, they understood the process well; once linked to the apprentice’s trial, they could easily spot the key to breaking the illusion and give their junior the necessary hints.

Bill’s intention was for Andy to use this function to connect his mind with Catherine’s, enter her soul trial, and help her reshape her understanding of herself—so she could survive again as a Dream Cat.

He also reminded Andy that once their souls were linked, the environment would shift according to both their perceptions.

Furthermore, at the start of the soul trial, one generally forgets all previous memories.

So, once Andy entered and regained his memory, he must find Catherine as quickly as possible.

As for why Andy was chosen: in the soul trial, the people closest and most important to the subject wield the greatest influence.

Right now, no one had a greater impact on Catherine than Andy.

Fortunately, when they left the governor’s mansion that day, Andy and Bill had brought the Prague Question Chair with them, since it was a relic of Stein’s.

Andy and Bill then moved the chair into the room and began the question process.

With Diga, the knowledgeable alchemist, guiding them, they progressed rapidly, soon answering a hundred questions correctly.

“Beep! New mode unlocked. Please present your question…”

Bill then recited a complex arcane problem prepared by Diga—one that was sure to stump the Prague Learning Machine.

But then, awkwardly, after a brief pause, the Prague Question Chair gave the correct answer.

Diga laughed gleefully from within the necklace’s inner space—and then prepared another question for Bill.

Once again, the Prague Chair solved it without trouble.

“Oh, I see. These questions would have stumped the Learning Machine ten thousand years ago, but who knows how many generations it’s been updated since then!” After several failed attempts to stump the chair, Diga came to a sudden realization.

Bill was about to suggest Diga try a few more challenging questions—hoping for a lucky break—when Andy spoke up.

“There’s a conjecture: Any even number greater than two can be expressed as the sum of two prime numbers. Please prove whether this conjecture holds,” Andy said. His question was none other than the legendary Goldbach Conjecture—one of the three most famous mathematical problems from his previous life.

Since the rules required an arcane question, he couldn’t play tricks with something like “Guess whether I’ll step forward with my left or right foot first.”

After seeing Bill try and fail several times, Andy couldn’t help but use the most difficult problem he knew from his former world.

In this world’s arcane knowledge, mathematics is also crucial, so it is reasonable to believe that for arcane science, the same holds true.

The Prague Question Chair fell silent.

“Beep! Calculation time exceeded. New mode unlocked!” After half an hour of anxious waiting, the Prague Chair finally responded.

A compartment at the back of the chair suddenly opened, ejecting two wires, each ending in a thin patch about the size of a bandage.

“How do I use these?” Andy asked Bill.

“One patch goes on your own forehead, the other on Catherine’s. That way, once you both regain your memories in the soul trial, you’ll be able to sense each other,” Bill explained.

“Wait—” Bill began, but before he could finish, Andy had already completed the setup and was plunged into darkness.

“Bill, what were you going to say to him?” Jella asked, seeing this.

“I was going to warn him about the dangers of the soul trial! He hasn’t even advanced to Bronze Sorcerer yet and has no experience at all with these trials. If he charges in recklessly like this, he could easily lose himself completely and never escape the illusion,” Bill said anxiously.

“Don’t worry. Andy will definitely bring Catherine back,” Jella replied, much calmer. “But Bill, you’ve been so serious today—you’re not your usual self.”

Bill felt a twinge of embarrassment at her words. Was he really so unserious most of the time?

“Just kidding!” Jella’s next words instantly brightened Bill’s spirits, but in the next moment, his gaze grew dim again.

Looking at the smiling girl before him, Bill couldn’t help but remember he had signed a five-year indenture with the Knights of the Divine Wind.

When a sorcery contract is sealed, it includes one’s mental force as part of the bond.

Some back-alley apprentice sorcerers might take breaking such a contract lightly—but with Diga’s guidance, Bill knew better. Such a contract must never be violated; doing so would leave a flaw in his mind, drastically reducing his chances of surviving the soul trial.

Thinking about marching to the front lines with the knights before long, Bill felt a sudden urge to confess his feelings to Jella right then and there.

But he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

Jella, seeing Bill’s hesitation, grew thoughtful.