Zandik.

The Akademiya was unusually quiet that afternoon. While most students remained focused on their research, Zandik occupied a secluded table in the library, surrounded by open books and pages filled with annotations. His pen paused for a moment.

"Hm..." His crimson eyes scanned a formula before a faint look of dissatisfaction crossed his face.

"What an inefficient method." With a quick stroke of his pen, he crossed out several lines and began rewriting them. Soft whispers and distant conversations filled the room, but he paid little attention to them. Most academic discussions struck him as repetitive and painfully uninteresting.

"If they're going to dedicate their lives to knowledge, they should at least learn how to think." Without looking up from his work, he continued writing, completely absorbed in his studies.