The Journal "Arcana"

Sky City, Nevis, headquarters of the journal "Arcana."

A small teleportation array suddenly lit up, signaling its activation.

As a node in the void emerged, wandering lights glittering like stars trembled within a special barrier. Against a pitch-black backdrop like the boundless void, countless points of radiance shone like stars, their light spreading steadily outward.

In moments, a copy of a submission from the lower world appeared.

Under the Arcane Committee's regulations, its original manuscript had already been placed in safekeeping.

If rejected, it would be returned by the same small teleportation array. If accepted, it would be sent to the great library, the Hall of Wisdom, to be preserved forever.

Ovesto was giving his student Swein some instructions when he suddenly heard the Tower Spirit's notification.

"Archmage Ovesto, you have a new manuscript awaiting review.

Runes School, linguistics, writing systems branch, script creation...

Please complete the preliminary review within twenty-four hours and submit your comments."

Another paper on script creation?

The study of writing systems examined their origins, development, nature, structure, the relationships between their forms, sounds, and meanings, their orthography, and the evolution of individual scripts. It was a branch of linguistics.

Atrelin's magical civilization had originated in symbolism and Kotodama, drawing power from the signifiers and signifieds of language and writing to acquire extraordinary might. This was the origin of the Runes School.

On Blue Star, where Roland had lived in his previous life, legend held that Cangjie's Creation of Writing made grain rain from the sky and ghosts weep at night. Once writing was born, creation could no longer conceal its secrets, nor could spirits and monsters hide their forms.

Knowing The Devil's True Name allowed one to control it, while Kotodama could be used to bless or curse.

There were even names that could not be spoken and posts that had to undergo review...

Across civilizations and eras, people had independently placed importance on the expression of language and writing, demonstrating the power they possessed.

As the root of all this, script creation naturally held a pivotal place in Atrelin's arcane research. Mages had always sought to make their mark in this foundational field.

Yet when Ovesto and Swein exchanged a glance, all they saw in each other's eyes was resignation.

"There certainly have been a lot of papers on script creation these past few years."

"Unfortunately, most aren't very good. Some are downright shoddy."

"Indeed. Cutting corners for fame and fortune is hardly what a wise scholar with ideals should do."

"Go take care of that matter first. I'll read this article."

"Very well, teacher. I'll take my leave."

Swein placed a hand over his chest and bowed, then left the room.

After watching Swein leave, Ovesto gave a soft chuckle and shook his head to himself.

"It seems it really is time to put the arcane community in order. Perhaps we should start by charging review fees and publication fees.

Otherwise, people are bound to say things like, 'It doesn't cost anything anyway,' or, 'If you're submitting, aim for the top journal.'

Wait..."

After briefly leafing through the article in his hands, Ovesto looked mildly taken aback.

"A Study of Oracle-Bone Characters?"

Meanwhile, in another room.

A voluptuous, mature noblewoman reclined on a soft sofa, her bearing full of elegance. With her eyes half closed, she quietly enjoyed the music.

Her long, wavy hair cascaded like a waterfall, gleaming with a captivating golden luster. Her striking figure formed lush curves, and her snowy skin complemented a beautiful face on which time seemed to have stood still. At any banquet, she would have been the undisputed center of attention.

Her languid posture had inadvertently exposed a generous expanse of her charms, made all the more alluring by the soft lighting.

Ding!

Just then, the Tower Spirit flashed, and a mechanically synthesized voice rang out.

"Grand Mage Lunifis, you have a new manuscript awaiting review.

Runes School, linguistics, writing systems branch, script creation...

Please complete the preliminary review within twenty-four hours and submit your comments."

Like most journals, "Arcana" used a cross-review system. Three reviewers examined each submission simultaneously during the preliminary review, and the specific reviewers were usually selected on the spot by artificial intelligence, without knowing one another's identities beforehand.

Once the preliminary review was complete, the reviewers would hold a brief follow-up meeting to discuss and explain their initial comments as necessary.

Only then would the submission proceed to the final review.

Thus, Ovesto was not the only one to receive the manuscript. Lunifis had been assigned the same review task.

She rose and went to the bar, poured herself a small glass of wine, then walked with a graceful sway to her large desk and sat down to read carefully.

"What an astonishing concept. Is this an entirely new pictographic script?

It doesn't seem to be quite that, either. More precisely, should it be called a new script containing a large number of pictographs?"

Lunifis keenly recognized what was distinctive about these square characters.

In yet another room.

The Tower Spirit flashed, and a mechanically synthesized voice rang out.

"Grand Mage Watson, you have a new manuscript awaiting review.

Runes School, linguistics, writing systems branch, script creation...

Please complete the preliminary review within twenty-four hours and submit your comments."

With a snap, the notification was silenced. A little old man in his sixties, with hair like a bird's nest and dark circles beneath his eyes, said irritably, "I know!"

He immediately turned around and spat words like machine-gun fire at a screen displayed by Projection on the other side of the room. "How many times have I told you? Stop bothering me with your petty crap! I don't have that much spare time to listen to your bullshit!

"What do you mean, insufficient funding? Did you spend the last allocation on vacations at public expense? Or do you spend all day figuring out how to summon succubi, or running off to Drow underground cities to whore around every day?

"Three years! Three whole years! And this fucking garbage is all you've produced! Any apprentice mage I grabbed off the street would do a better job than you! And you still have the nerve to whine to me!

"What should you do? You're asking me? Who am I supposed to ask? If you really can't think of a solution, just quit!

"Day after day, you don't do a single useful thing. What a bunch of trash!"

With a snap, the Projection shut off.

The little old man still felt he had not vented enough. He picked up the large mug beside him and gulped down a mouthful of coffee, then shouted indignantly, "Why is it cold?"

An attendant outside the door peeked in, then hastily drew back, not daring to answer.

After shouting for quite some time without anyone responding, the irascible little old man slammed his coffee mug onto the desk with a thud. Only then did he rake a hand through his already disheveled hair, take the new manuscript from the teleportation array, and begin reading.

"A work of fictionalism, and they've dressed it up as though it's something serious."

After finishing it, the irascible little old man remained utterly unimpressed.

"Every last one of them just wants to swindle research funds. Rejected!"