Chapter 482: Information Anxiety Syndrome

"Oh! The cherished little princess!"

Ekaterina had beautiful deep blue eyes, but her voice was completely ruined. Every word she spoke carried a raspy undertone, like an old witch from a fairy tale. When she pressed her training sword against Tatyana's neck, her voice alone was enough to scare a child to tears.

Ekaterina's face bore no scars, but hidden beneath her training uniform, her back was covered in deep lash marks. Like Tatyana, she wore her dark hair in a thick, sturdy braid draped over one shoulder. She ranked second among the trainees, her marksmanship and close combat skills nearly matching Tatyana's. But unlike Tatyana, Ekaterina's life had not been as fortunate.

This Hungarian girl had suffered unspeakable abuse. One night, she had been forced to serve ten clients at once. Her throat had been utterly destroyed, and she had nearly choked to death.

She lost the ability to bear children, and her limbs had been broken under brutal torture.

It wasn't just humans who had violated her—under the orders of monsters, dogs and horses had also ravaged her body.

That night, the flames of vengeance ignited in her heart. Just before she was about to be sent off to film an underground snuff film, the artificial beings rescued her from a cage meant for attack dogs. The arrival of the Sisterhood poured fuel onto the fire within her, and the blazing rage of revenge drove her to train with relentless intensity. Wakanda's medical technology had cured the diseases that had nearly consumed her, and alchemical potions had restored her to full health and strength. Her broken limbs were repaired, her wounds were stitched closed.

She was the most fervent trainee of them all. And the most devout.

God had not saved her.

The Sisterhood had.

It was her God who had sent angels with wings of steel to rescue her.

She did not like the high and mighty Tatyana. Ekaterina believed that if she hadn't been so physically weakened by the abuse she suffered, the number one spot should have belonged to her. But more than anything, her resentment stemmed from jealousy—and an inferiority complex before someone she saw as pure.

She saw herself as tainted. She had to fight with everything she had to earn the right to serve Him. Meanwhile, that girl was lucky—because she was pure. In Ekaterina's eyes, Tatyana hadn't suffered enough to be worthy of His favor. That belief drove her to constantly challenge Tatyana.

And this time, Ekaterina had won.

Taking advantage of the moment when Tatyana's training sword was locked in place, she sidestepped and struck the blonde girl's face with the hilt of her sword, then delivered a vicious kick to her side.

Tatyana immediately collapsed to the ground. A dark bruise bloomed on her face, and she curled up in pain, clutching her stomach. Yet her other hand never let go of her sword.

"That's payback for humiliating me during CQB training," Ekaterina said softly, twirling her sword in a flourish. "I don't need you reminding me—I can do it myself."

Gritting her teeth, Tatyana pushed herself up using her training sword.

"Pah! Is that so?" She spat a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva onto the ground. The pain in her mouth, sharp and piercing, overshadowed the dull ache in her abdomen. Furious at herself for being caught off guard, she stepped forward to retaliate.

Her mind had been distracted all morning by something she couldn't recall.

Who had they met earlier that day? Why couldn't she remember his face?

Before she could turn to Vera to confirm whether she had the same memory lapse, Lady Tita's demonstration had already ended.

Tatyana knew she had missed something important.

Tita watched the fight coldly, making no move to intervene. Every evening, the girls drank potions to heal their injuries. As long as their sparring didn't result in permanent damage or death, all techniques were allowed. Competition among the recruits was necessary—unlike the artificial beings, these girls would not undergo extensive augmentations. The electronic muscle fibers in their power armor couldn't replace true reaction speed.

And instinctive battle responses could only be honed in the training field.

However, competition was strictly confined to training sessions and academic performance.

Tita didn't understand why her master insisted that the girls study Shakespeare. She didn't know why he had established a library for them. But she did understand that only those who proved themselves worthy could don power armor, wield a sword, and serve the Monarch.

Solomon certainly wasn't about to admit he was keeping up with the curriculum of a classical literature major while studying physics.

In order to earn the recognition of professors from both disciplines, Solomon deliberately used excessively ornate and convoluted vocabulary in his essays to demonstrate his capability.

In reality, even before he recklessly applied for the program, he had already built a solid foundation in classical literature. He had been raised with the most rigorous education in Greek and Roman literature, history, philosophy, linguistics, and archaeology.

When Jewish elders had tried to teach Jesus, He had, in turn, taught them.

Solomon was much the same in the realm of classical literature.

How authoritative was he?

Well, no one in the world was more qualified as professors than the Olympian gods themselves.

Athena burst into laughter when she heard Solomon's complaints. She likened his decision to enter the classical literature field to a buffalo independently searching for a lush pasture.

After a private discussion, several professors agreed to administer a joint exam during Solomon's break. This test covered classical literature, physics, mathematics, politics, economics, philosophy, and linguistics. The exam lasted three full days and took place in an entire floor of The Ritz, which Solomon had rented out.

Unlimited champagne and gourmet meals were provided—otherwise, the professors wouldn't have agreed.

The Ritz was expensive.

Solomon had paid a hefty sum.

After putting him through their grueling test, the professors completely changed their perception of Solomon.

They saw his brain as a massive, luminous machine, endlessly absorbing knowledge from all disciplines. They could practically feel the insatiable hunger for learning radiating from him.

At the same time, he was like a printing press—pouring his boundless thoughts onto paper.

Afterward, Solomon earned the privilege of holding conversations with nearly every professor in the PPE department.

No one could figure out where he had learned everything he knew.

Why had such a person remained obscure during his childhood?

Some even invited him to undergo an fMRI scan, convinced that his brain must be uniquely structured.

——————————

After finishing his lecture, Solomon packed up his blackboard and books, dusting off the chalk powder from his sleeves. He intended to enjoy a well-earned feast before mealtime officially began.

To his left sat an elegant English teapot, while Wanda and Pietro each had a cup and saucer before them.

Solomon didn't mistreat his students—no matter how much they struggled with his lessons, afternoon tea was still provided. A variety of English desserts were also served to compensate for the mental exhaustion they had just endured.

Wanda, clearly overwhelmed by the flood of information, looked utterly dazed. Solomon regarded her with sympathy. Pietro, too, was experiencing the same symptoms.

This was common, especially among math students. Taking in too much information at once often led to dizziness and nausea.

Solomon had experienced it himself.

Only his case had been far worse.

The psychological trauma had been enough to drive anyone insane.

Most people wouldn't have even survived the kind of physiological strain he had endured.

It wasn't surprising.

Anyone force-fed an entire curriculum, from equations to linear algebra, in a matter of hours would end up looking like this.

Pietro had been using his super speed to study, while Wanda had been forced to directly face the arcane constructs Solomon conjured, trying to grasp the mathematical principles behind the magic.

"In the past, I deliberately slowed my learning to hide how different I was," Solomon said. "But now, I don't need to hide anymore. And neither do you."

"This is just the pace I used when I learned magic."

"You still have a lot to learn, so keep up. Oh, Pietro, I know what you're about to say."

Solomon wagged a finger at Pietro.

"I don't doubt your ability to get revenge—but I'm thinking about your future, too."

Dressed in his robes, Solomon looked every bit the dedicated university professor.

It was easy to forget how young he actually was.

"Get into a good university. Earn a scholarship. Don't worry about tuition," he said.

"Revenge isn't everything. I think your parents would be proud to see what you accomplish."

"Pietro, drink some tea. It'll help. Wanda, study hard—you have to master both magic and science."

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