Chapter 86
Chapter 86
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 086
Chapter Title: True Super Magic Martial God Emperor Wolfram
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Eve von Loengrin wasn't the type to frequent the convenience store much, but if she ever did drop by, it was always when her candy stash ran dry and she needed a sugar refill.
Staring into the store mirror and at the face of her bloodline mate, she couldn't help thinking how much they really did resemble each other. Just then, something clicked in her mind, and she posed a question.
About the Imperial Bloodline, no less.
"Imperial Bloodline skill?"
"Mm. It happened during that tea party I attended in your stead last time."
I gave Eve a brief rundown of what had gone down back then, and she nodded.
"Everyone in the direct imperial line has the Imperial Bloodline, but it's a skill that varies wildly in tier and manifestation."
"I know that much. It's just... my manifestation has me puzzled."
True to its 1-tier status, the Imperial Bloodline hid several secret options.
And I had no clue what those hidden options were for Wolfram.
I knew Eve's better, actually. One of her Imperial Bloodline's hidden perks was 【Demon God Reincarnation】.
It was akin to Wolfram's own auto-counter option, in a way.
Any 4th-tier or lower magic directed at her got countered with a fixed probability. Simple as that—a total cheat.
"Isn't there any way to check exactly how it manifested?"
"Yeah. That's the thing with Imperial Bloodline. I don't know the details myself."
"I see."
I scrolled through the full description of the Imperial Bloodline.
What a stellar skill.
If the main stats backed it up, it'd be endlessly versatile.
But Wolfram had zilch, just Convenience Store Owner A. Useless as is—that was the problem.
"Imperial Bloodline levels up with frequent activations, right?"
"Yeah. Isn't that obvious?"
"Mm."
I nodded.
From the Zolf incident onward, I'd triggered Imperial Bloodline pretty often, so maybe its proficiency had climbed decently.
Back when Eve snatched my student council president spot and Sylvia was mouthing off nearby, no such message had popped up.
"I'm really grateful for this skill."
"Me too."
Imperial Bloodline.
The reason the Loengrin Empire, after 300 years of solid foundation, never saw a single rebellion.
What a monumental talent: every direct heir born clutching a 1-tier skill.
But for Wolfram, it might've been pure despair.
Maybe that's why he hoarded magic tomes and swords.
He could've clung to false hope that his Imperial Bloodline would manifest in magic or swordplay, patching over weak stats with skills.
In the end, I'd dissect Wolfram's Imperial Bloodline hidden options later. For now, other priorities took precedence.
"Canvas, paints, and brushes."
Time to expand my Dexterity-building options.
Dexterity would hit 10 soon, nullifying beginner set bonuses. Better stock up fast—couldn't stall at 9 forever. Aim for 13 instead.
Handy Worker. Magical Patissier. Cooking. Mix Beans, etc.
Anything hands-on boosted Dexterity, so music and painting were musts too.
"Partras. Prep to head out."
"Can't we just order delivery from Maestro? Do I really have to go, Boss?"
"......"
Was this guy really a wolf?
Zip open that mouth, and you'd probably find a 300-year-old unemployed uncle scratching his belly.
Unable to withstand my glare, Partras sighed, and the cart rumbled off.
Off to the artists' district.
Deep in the 6th Knight Academy sector lay the artists' district.
A street I'd frequented endlessly for creative Dexterity work.
"I like how mana envelops the whole street. Overflowing with colors, you might say. Fascinating place."
Partras chuckled, seeming pleased.
With my low mana, I couldn't see colors, but the pervasive paint scent brought an odd comfort anyway.
Ateliers lined both sides as you walked.
Handmade accessories on stalls out front.
Not just that—portraits of Jefrin's celebs dotted the displays, styled to each artist's flair.
Eve. Aila. Nefti over there. Even Jewel Sword Isolde.
Of course, no Wolfram von Loengrin.
I shelved expectations and strolled on. No need for pricey paints; cheap clearance stuff would do...
"Isn't that you, Boss?"
"......?"
No way.
Who the hell would paint Wolfram?
Thinking to refute Partras, I glanced at one shop—and forgot what I was about to say.
"...It's me."
"Told ya."
No doubt about it. Wolfram von Loengrin.
Sure, I was kinda famous. A portrait wasn't impossible.
But...
Why was I in a bathroom tub overflowing with roses, coldly strangling a golden-haired elf whose face was veiled in petals, eyes icy as death?
"?"
That wasn't a portrait, was it?
I scrutinized the painting closely.
Dim bathroom.
A golden-haired elf lounging in the tub, dressed in a gown, eyes covered by roses.
Me, in full imperial regalia, throttling her throat from above.
"...Makes me curious about the artist's mental state."
Who the fuck drew this?
"Ah, don't touch that. It's not for sale."
The voice came from inside the shop.
Who drew this madness? Glaring, I eyed the emerging figure: a disheveled girl in shabby clothes, swirling glasses, ink splattered everywhere.
"You drew this?"
"Yeah. Shipping out tomorrow, so if you touch—"
"Who the hell ordered this...?"
"President?"
"......Huh?"
"The real president? President! Long time no see!"
The girl—grayish-white hair to her waist, ink everywhere—beamed, grabbing my hand like she knew me.
I knew her.
Magic engineering painter.
Not a playable character. No party slot.
"Layer."
"Yeah. Been a while, President."
But how do you know me?
"You..."
"Oh right, President. Hang on. Come inside. Model for a sec? You can do that, right?"
Just like that, Layer dragged me into the shop.
This girl's grip strength—insane...!
Where's my guard wolf when I need him...?
"Partras..."
"Mm. Boss knows every woman in this academy? Impressive. I respect that. Ah, I'll patrol the area for three hours or so. Catch you later."
Hey! Partras!
Hey!
The atelier reeked mustily, walls and ceiling plastered top to bottom with paintings.
Ink everywhere. Canvases overflowing the walls.
The gray-haired girl deep in her work: Layer.
She was an NPC.
More precisely, a shop and quest-order NPC hybrid.
Heroine affinity boosts often needed gifts, and portraits worked great on some—like Regina Cielra, who commissioned or displayed faves on her walls.
Visiting the atelier district for portraits always greeted you with Layer's 【"Welcome. What commission today?"】
Shocking part: Layer knew Wolfram von Loengrin.
An obscure NPC unmentioned in lore files, tied to Wolfram.
Intriguing connection.
But prying clumsily could spark rumors of amnesia or "Wolfram acting off," leading to downfall. Better glean clues from her words.
Imperial Bloodline toggled on—I had six shots to infer answers!
"...【When was the last time we met?】"
"Almost four months? Something like that."
Layer multitasked, painting away.
Good. Clue one: four months.
"Right. Four months ago... 【Feels like ages with so much going on. What'd we do then?】"
"You? Same as always."
Same as always—what was that?
"Always, huh? Too much piled up... 【Can't recall clearly now. Care to elaborate?】"
"Chatted with us, painted, bought some... you know."
...What?
Chatted? Painted?
That Wolfram von Loengrin? For real?
"...Got it. Sorry I haven't come by much."
"You used to visit at least once every two months."
Unknown Wolfram lore.
Wasn't he the tyrant pitting Knight and Magic divisions against each other, drowning in corruption, finally ousted for raiding imperial treasures?
Yet he hit this arts street monthly, building friendly ties?
Ah, one guess.
Prime spot for art laundering.
Wolfram bought "art" to dodge taxes, bribed with it. Hence the chummy "President" nicknames.
"Calling me President—Eve von Loengrin would flip. I'm not student council prez anymore."
"What're you saying? Without you, this street would've been toast. You made the 'Jefrin Basic Pension for Artists,' right? From then on, you're our president!"
"...What."
Wolfram did that?
I gawked at Layer, dumbfounded, but she ignored me, brush flying.
"Thanks to that, the artists' district survived. You said it back then: 'This place is the fiercest battlefield, where talent and effort collide to shine. How tragic if money snuffs that light. I want to support you all.'"
"......So I did."
"Yeah. 'I respect those who trust unrecognized talents in this world—sans magic or sword—and walk their path fearless. I'll do what I can.' Something like that."
"......"
"And after, you'd drop by to paint with us sometimes?"
I fell silent.
Was original Wolfram pulling this off?
I caught a glimpse of how parched Wolfram von Loengrin—not Yi Young-jin—had been for true talent.
How he envied, resented... admired and yearned for it.
"I see."
"You weren't half bad at painting, mind. Skill was... iffy."
"No need for that last bit."
"Ahaha. Right, President. Long time no see—paint something before you go. Paints and canvas on me."
"......Not a bad idea."
I accepted her pure kindness, taking the brush.
"What to paint."
"Whatever tugs at your heart most right now. What you cherish deepest."
"Got it."
With that, I set brush to canvas.
First up: Wolfram von Loengrin. Me.
Yi Young-jin as Wolfram swore to survive as Wolfram to the end.
Next, I slathered deep purple onto the brush.
Black evoking obsidian.
No pauses in the strokes; the brush raced madly.
Pouring my soul, I painted behind Wolfram.
My most precious thing.
Immense, incomparable.
"...Whoa."
Stitch by stitch.
The purple gleamed, sometimes reflecting sunlight, becoming its own sun.
Black.
Purple.
Utterly beautiful.
"A building?"
"Yep."
"Why a building behind you?"
"It's mine."
"What kind?"
A colossal edifice loomed behind Wolfram's back!
Three basement floors, seven above—the ultimate mart of my dreams!
"Wolfram Big Mart."
"What's a mart?"
"Giant shop."
"Shop? Dreamed of being a shop owner, President?"
I dotted countless tiny people before the mega-mart.
All smiling joyfully.
"Looks like a fun shop. This your heart's desire?"
"Ambition. Owner of a mart where everyone shops happily."
"...You've changed a bit, President."
"How so?"
"Back then, you only painted yourself as a grand magic swordsman or archmage. Holy sword drawn, grimoire open, meteors raining..."
"Did I?"
That insane crap?
Really?
"Yeah. Still, better than that self-portrait as 'True Super Magic Martial God Emperor Wolfram von Loengrin.' Everyone bowed before you then—now they're all smiling?"
"......"
Even a title like that?
For real?