Chapter 502
Chapter 502:
“I don’t need to prove who I am,” Isolde said, her voice ringing out clear and powerful. “I only need to prove that this design, these theories, can be derived by me. Right here, right now p>
She turned and walked to the massive touchscreen at the side of the stage, picking up a stylus.
In the next moment, a torrent of mathematical symbols and physics equations poured from its tip. Her speed was breathtaking, her chain of reasoning terrifyingly precise — as if the laws of the universe had lined themselves up in her mind and were simply awaiting her command.
“My God…” Dr. Merrick stared, dumbfounded, pushing his glasses up his nose, his voice trembling with excitement. “That is Sophia’s proprietary Inverse Turbulence Unification Algorithm. The academic world has only ever seen the final formula. No one has ever been able to replicate the derivation process. No one p>
Isolde wrote the final line of the proof, then set the stylus down on the lectern with a crisp, deliberate clack. She turned, her gaze sweeping across the silent auditorium like a searchlight.
“Is any further proof required p>
The hall was perfectly still. She had not admitted to a single thing — yet she had just demonstrated, irrefutably, the one ability that only Sophia possessed. She was the proof.
Belle’s face drained of all color. “Impossible… that’s impossible! You — you just memorized it beforehand!” Her voice had turned shrill and hollow, unconvincing even to herself.
The 𝗆𝘰ѕ𝘁 𝗉oр𝗎𝗅a𝗿 ո𝗈𝘃е𝗅𝘀 𝘰𝘯
Dr. Merrick brought his gavel down firmly on the table, his voice booming through the speakers.
“The objection is overruled. I declare the winner of the Gold Award to be, without a shadow of a doubt, Team Aether p>
The cheers from the final still lingered in the air, mingled with the faint scent of champagne and celebration. Isolde held the heavy championship trophy, her fingers brushing its smooth surface, as she walked slowly toward the backstage lounge to gather her belongings. The weight of it was proof enough — washing away every slander and every doubt that had come before.
Just as she turned the corner, two tall bodyguards stepped forward abruptly and blocked her path. A frantic, venomous voice came from behind her.
Belle stormed over, her eyes bloodshot, her face twisted with rage — the look of a gambler who had lost everything and couldn’t accept it. She stared at the trophy in Isolde’s arms, her voice dripping with resentment.
“Don’t look so smug. I know you bought this award. You didn’t earn it p>
Isolde stopped and exhaled softly. There was no anger in her eyes — only weariness and patience.
“Belle, aren’t you tired of this p>
Belle stepped closer, more agitated than ever. “Cut the act! Tell me — who’s the man behind you? Where is Sophia, really? How much did you pay off the lead architect p>
Isolde looked at Belle — her eyes clouded by jealousy, the truth sitting directly in front of her and yet completely invisible — and felt only pity. Obsession had sealed her off from it entirely.
She met Belle’s gaze, calm but carrying the full weight of professional authority.