Genshin Impact: Transmigrated as Furina's Second Personality

The Akademiya is an extremely competitive learning environment where many students endure sleepless nights and endless anxiety just to get their theses approved.

But here's the problem—writing a thesis and conducting research requires access to materials. When you ask the Akasha for them, it determines that you lack the qualifications and refuses to provide them.

If you ask the Akasha what qualifies you, it replies that you must first complete and pass your research and thesis, only then will you gain access to higher-level materials.

A perfect logical loop.

In Sumeru, books do not circulate freely, and the only place to access them is the Palace of Alcazarzaray's library. However, not all books are available there, and each person is limited in the number of books they can borrow and the time they can keep them.

What does this feel like?

It's as if you're trying to write a research paper, but the authorities have cut off your internet and phone access. You can't look up anything online, and you're not allowed to source books from outside.

You're left to repeatedly try and fail on your own. Although the Akademiya doesn't set the bar too high, it's still beyond the reach of many, leading to widespread frustration and suffering.

Fortunately, where there are rules, there are ways to circumvent them.

Sumeru has something called "Canned Knowledge."

In simple terms, it's a process where someone stores their knowledge into a crystal, allowing others to absorb it through their Akasha terminal and instantly acquire the information.

However, the Akademiya strictly controls knowledge—if books aren't allowed to circulate, Canned Knowledge is even more forbidden. Trading in it is illegal in Sumeru.

But where there is demand, there is always an industry. Talented individuals in various fields create and sell Canned Knowledge at exorbitant prices.

Because of its distance from Sumeru City, Port Ormos has become a haven for the Canned Knowledge trade.

Every day, numerous Akademiya students flock to Port Ormos, hoping to find the right Canned Knowledge to aid their studies.

On this particular day, amidst the bustling crowds, a sudden wail echoed through the streets.

A young man wearing the uniform of the Spantamad faction of the Akademiya suddenly crouched down on the street, crying bitterly.

It was as if years of pent-up pressure and emotions had finally exploded in that moment.

Breaking down completely, he cried out in anguish, his voice raw and desperate:

"Why!"

"Why does the Akademiya restrict knowledge so tightly?! Isn't knowledge meant to be the common property of all Sumerians?!"

"I need research materials for my thesis, but the Akasha says I'm not qualified!"

"I've worked tirelessly day and night! My family has scrimped and saved just to send me to the Akademiya, hoping I would make something of myself!"

"And now? The Akasha says I'm not worthy of knowledge! I've borrowed everything I can, and I'm still 20,000 Mora short of buying a piece of Canned Knowledge. I don't even know if the content inside is useful or not!"

"What is this supposed to mean?! My parents, my siblings—they've all sacrificed so much, they don't even buy new clothes just so I could study at the Akademiya!"

"All their efforts, what do they count for? What do my countless sleepless nights mean?!"

"In this so-called nation of wisdom, in this country called Sumeru, does knowledge still belong to the ordinary people?!"

Clearly, this was a child from a poor family, and now, the harsh reality had shattered all his psychological defenses, leaving him with no choice but to break down and cry in the street.

No one knew how much time had passed before the young man's emotions gradually settled. Realizing that he had said things he shouldn't have, he quickly fled the scene in a panic.

He may have left, but the students coming and going on the street were left in silence.

Wealthy people are always the minority in the world, and many of the students present came from families that struggled financially.

For many of them, their families had to scrimp and save just to send them to the Akademiya.

But the desperate cries of that student just now had struck them deeply, painfully.

Were they not struggling in the same way, trapped within the vast net woven by the Akademiya and the Akasha system?

When they first entered the Akademiya, they were filled with hope, believing their future was limitless.

But now?

They rushed and stumbled, drowning in anxiety day after day, endlessly searching for answers they could not find.

Were they still the same people? Where were the confident, high-spirited boys and girls they used to be?

"In this so-called nation of wisdom, in this country called Sumeru, do ordinary people still have the right to knowledge?!!"

The young man's hysterical cry was like a heavy hammer, striking deep into the hearts of the students present.

And this very sentence would, in the future, become the rallying cry of countless Sumerians at the bottom of society who would rise in revolt!

...

Far from the noisy streets, the young man who had been crying moments ago transformed into a cute little girl.

Yes, that boy crying in the streets was none other than Nahida in disguise.

As soon as she appeared, several tiny forest spirits, Aranara, emerged from the trees nearby. The leaves on their heads spun like little propellers as they flew to Nahida's side, offering her fresh fruit.

"Thank you," Nahida said, her eyes curving into crescent moons as she hugged the Aranara gently.

"Wow, Teacher is truly amazing. Even if I can only learn half of her wisdom, it would be more than enough to deal with things in Sumeru."

When a god is determined to accomplish something, the energy she can unleash is terrifying and nearly unstoppable for mortals.

In the two months since leaving Fontaine and returning to Sumeru, Nahida had been lurking among the common folk, assuming various identities.

She appeared in different industries, using every possible means to provoke conflicts between the people and the Akademiya.

Under her manipulation, the voices of dissent grew louder, and the resentment among the populace deepened.

Dissatisfaction spread rapidly throughout Sumeru. The chaotic signs had already begun to emerge, and all it would take was a decisive event to ignite the suppressed anger of the lower classes, pushing the situation to the brink of uncontrollability.

The sages of the Akademiya might not be kind, but to have risen to their esteemed positions, they were undoubtedly the smartest minds in Sumeru.

They quickly realized that the current wave of public sentiment was abnormal; the speed of its change and spread was too fast.

It was clear that someone was secretly fanning the flames, because such a rapid accumulation of public discontent could not have happened naturally.

However, even though they knew that someone was stirring up public opinion from the shadows, the Akademiya found itself helpless.

Because regardless of who was behind it, they had to acknowledge one thing—the Akasha's knowledge distribution system indeed had flaws.

If the issue were false, it could have been easily debunked and dismissed.

But the problem was, it was real. The public's grievances had legitimate roots, and those roots stemmed from the critical Akasha System itself, making the situation all the more troublesome.

Faced with the current crisis, the sages of the Akademiya had only three choices:

Ignore public opinion and adopt a passive approach.

Suppress dissent by sending enforcers to arrest those spreading such rhetoric as a means of intimidation.

Yield to public pressure and agree to reform the Akasha System.

Yet, in the face of these three options, the Akademiya remained silent.

Choosing to ignore public sentiment meant allowing it to fester unchecked. The situation would inevitably spiral out of control.

Suppressing dissent by arresting those spreading discontent was an even worse choice.

Given the current state of public dissatisfaction, with hidden forces watching closely, any attempt at suppression would only backfire—fueling the fire and pushing the people to revolt.

As for yielding and agreeing to reform the Akasha System?

At first glance, this seemed like a reasonable course of action. But how exactly should they reform it? To what extent?

Should they allow those who could previously only access farming knowledge to now learn construction?

Should fishermen now be granted access to ship maintenance and repair knowledge?

At first glance, it might seem like an acceptable compromise—everyone gets upgraded knowledge, and all sides are satisfied, right?

But in reality, things wouldn't be that simple.

Because human nature is inherently greedy.

Imagine a sect in a cultivation world where the disciples protested and rioted, eventually forcing the sect leader and elders to relent and grant access to the sect's library.

What would the disciples do next when given access to the library's skills and techniques?

From the highest to the lowest, the techniques would be ranked: Heaven, Earth, Mystic, and Yellow.

Do you think a disciple originally only qualified to receive a Yellow-grade technique would be satisfied with just obtaining a Mystic-grade technique?

Impossible. Regardless of whether they have the aptitude, they would crave the best Heaven-grade techniques—and not just one, but many!

This is the insatiable greed of human nature.

The people of Sumeru are no different. If the Akasha System's knowledge distribution mechanism were truly modified, would they be satisfied with just slightly better knowledge than before?

Of course not. They would demand the most and the best!

For this reason, the Akademiya could not afford to compromise. If they did, the entire structure of Sumeru would collapse.

More critically, yielding now would set a precedent, sending a message to the people that causing a disturbance would force the Akademiya to bow and grant their demands.

If they relented this time, what would stop people from doing the same the next time they had grievances?

As rulers, they could not allow such a thing to happen.

Thus, this entire situation was essentially an open conspiracy. No matter how it was handled, it was bound to be a thorny issue.

However, they could not simply ignore the growing unrest among the populace.

After thorough discussion, the sages of the Akademiya reached a decision.

They publicly announced:

"Recently, it has come to our attention that many citizens of Sumeru are dissatisfied with the current knowledge distribution system of the Akasha."

"The Akademiya respects the wishes of the people. After carefully considering their concerns, we have decided that the knowledge allocation system does indeed have some deficiencies, and we are committed to making improvements and optimizations."

The sages were cunning; on the surface, this announcement appeared sincere and respectful of public opinion, showing a willingness to acknowledge mistakes and make changes.

However, anyone with a sharp mind could see through the facade—this announcement was nothing but a perfunctory response.

Nowhere in the announcement did they specify how they planned to revise the system, nor did they provide any concrete details or timelines.

Without any mention of the actual modifications or deadlines, how long would the changes take? A day? A month? A year? Or even a century?

It was clear that this announcement was merely an attempt to placate the people temporarily.

Many times, people's memories are short.

The sages had already devised their next step: first, they would release this announcement to calm the public's emotions. Then, they would follow up by announcing the successful completion of a power station and the development of god-level combat machines.

Upon hearing these groundbreaking developments, the people would undoubtedly be thrilled and filled with pride.

Yes, by temporarily soothing the unrest and then shifting public attention to these major advancements, the Akademiya aimed to gradually erase concerns about the Akasha modifications from the public's mind.

The wave of discontent would slowly dissipate.

And just like that, this crisis would fade into obscurity.

Sometimes, defusing tension really is that simple.

Of course, that is assuming Nahida wasn't involved.

Having carefully cultivated this situation, Nahida had spent the past two months tirelessly traveling across Sumeru in various disguises, stirring the flames of dissatisfaction and fanning the embers of rebellion.

Now, just as her grand plan was about to bear fruit, there was no way she would allow the Akademiya to sweep this issue under the rug so easily.

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