Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Masterpiece (3)
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While Rowen let out a small, apologetic laugh to soothe Lea...
In the room where a subtle tension hung in the air, one person was pulling a sullen face for reasons unknown.
"..."
Arien, arms crossed and brows furrowed, silently watching the whole scene unfold.
Arien didn't like this situation one bit.
...This is annoying.
It wasn't that the entire day had been bad.
She'd strolled the night streets with Rowen, sat on a bench sharing stories, passing the time.
Even met Rowen's friends, who gave off a strangely familiar vibe, like they were connected by fate.
...I thought we might actually get a little closer.
The rumor about ghosts in the academy cafeteria.
At first, she'd only felt annoyed by such childish gossip that only kids would believe.
But after tagging along and going through ups and downs together, a sense of fun had bubbled up naturally. Though she hated to admit it, she'd even felt a desire to get closer.
"Keep pulling this on me, Rowen, and I might just go all out myself...?"
"Ahaha..."
Yet every time she saw Rowen flustered like this, an inexplicable displeasure welled up inside her.
That was the biggest reason Arien was pouting, making her discomfort plain as day.
You said I was your most precious friend.
Always spouting those cringeworthy lines in that signature tone of his, cool as you please.
And now, just because he'd gotten chummy with some pretty girls, he was trailing after them like a lost puppy.
Poke.
"...Ugh, always trying to slyly weasel out of it."
"..."
Even now, as Lea spread her arms wide, Rowen was blushing faintly and naturally burrowing into her embrace.
...Do boobs really feel that good?
She'd heard guys liked breasts, sure...
Stroke, stroke.
"Hehe... Feels that good, huh?"
But even so, to act so shamelessly in front of everyone?
Of course, he seemed aware of his own embarrassment—head buried deep in Lea's ample bosom, ears burning red...
Yet his arms around her stayed locked tight, showing no sign of letting go.
...I don't like it.
She'd vaguely sensed it before, but Rowen was always pretending otherwise while craving affection.
It was obvious even from afar, so the two of them had to know it too.
Stroke, stroke.
"..."
And yet, here she was hugging Rowen casually like it was nothing.
Carefully stroking his hair, wearing that oddly satisfied, dreamy smile.
It was downright shameless. No, perverted even.
"...Cut it out already."
Her sharp voice cut through the stinging ache in her chest.
"...Hah, why do you keep butting in? I get that you're close to Rowen, but ease up, will you?"
But all she got back was a cold glare and an icy retort.
Lea's usual bright cheer had vanished in an instant, replaced by a sudden shift.
And to top it off, she hugged Rowen tighter to muffle her voice.
Rowen, oblivious, just trembled faintly in Lea's arms.
"..."
"..."
Even if the first impression was good, who could want to befriend such a shady woman?
If Rowen knew what Arien was thinking, he'd have sighed deeply.
It was a pity he'd fallen right into Lea's trap, hook, line, and sinker.
A chill silence hung over the room somewhere.
Having slipped free from Lea's embrace, I felt a strange tension.
I feel like I'm turning into an idiot...
Not a kid anymore, yet scurrying into her arms every time she opened them.
No matter how soft-hearted I was, this seemed off...
Even if it was to placate Lea, the optics were all wrong.
"...Hah, Rowen. Get a grip, please."
That's when Arien spoke up, his face laced with irritation.
......
Well, yeah, anyone seeing this would think something weird...
I was grateful Arien had waited through the embarrassing display without a word.
Still, his gaze toward me carried a flicker of reproach he couldn't hide.
At least Estelle was being well-behaved...
"...If you get tired of Lea, you can come to me anytime."
"..."
Or not—Estelle was whispering dangerously cheeky lines with a sassy look.
It poked at the last shred of my conscience.
"Ahem, enough with the lover's quarrel. How about we get back to it?"
Unable to stand the awkward vibe, Michelan finally spoke after just grunting.
Can't remember the last time I was this glad to see him...
Not content with handing out masterpieces, he was neatly defusing the situation too.
Never thought I'd be this thankful for Michelan.
"Alright then, next up is you, Arien."
With that, Michelan had swiftly sorted the mess and turned toward Arien.
His short legs pumping furiously in quick steps.
Even after giving up on the holy sword, his curiosity hadn't faded.
Though he won't find much, of course...
Why else would it be called a holy sword?
A holy sword wasn't just any blade—it was an artifact brimming with unfathomable power.
Sharp enough to slice iron like paper, unbreakable without a single nick.
Unrivaled as a weapon in its own right.
But the holy sword's true value lay beyond such trifles.
It could draw out its wielder's potential to the max.
Or grant near-limitless vitality just by holding it.
No matter the ability imagined, the holy sword could make it real—an infinite potential.
Of course, unlocking that power required unimaginable effort.
Even so, it surpassed all artifacts in existence—the pinnacle artifact.
That's why I can wield it freely.
That's also why I'd planned to scour dungeons for artifacts.
What use were they when the holy sword outdid any in abilities?
In the original story, I'd handed most dungeon artifacts to my companions anyway.
So no need to worry Arien wasn't growing because of me.
He's the strongest Arien I've ever seen, after all...
Sure, if he lagged unexpectedly, I'd have showered him with artifacts.
But his personality was the only oddity—his skills were overwhelmingly top-tier among all the Ariens I'd raised in the game.
The problem was that prickly personality...
"Urgh, what should I even make for him..."
Anyway, back to the point: Arien wouldn't get a masterpiece.
Or rather, he couldn't.
"...Doesn't matter. Just give the others better stuff."
No sword he forged could outsharpen the holy sword.
Even an artifact would likely prove useless.
It was like trampling his artisan pride entirely.
That's precisely why I'd brought him along.
"Urgh... If that's your wish, no helping it."
"..."
"If you ever need gear, come find me anytime. Won't be masterpiece-level, but I'll make it as good as I can."
A chance for ongoing help from the top artisan.
With demons on the horizon, top-tier gear was crucial.
Ongoing aid beat a single masterpiece.
"Still, I'll give you something. Even I have my pride to uphold."
Plus, Michelan was handing over solid gear anyway.
No worry of Arien walking away empty-handed.
Scribble, scribble.
As always, Michelan began etching bold lines on pristine white paper.
Soon, he'd sketched a plain white cloth devoid of any patterns.
"Hmm, nothing fancy. Cloth woven from ancient dragon scales. Close enough to bandages."
"...Why this?"
"Eh? Your current bandages look precarious."
Ancient dragon scales.
Tough as steel yet highly flexible.
Light as fluff, soft to the touch—quite popular.
Bandages, though? Of all things...
"Might hold now, but it'll unravel in a snap soon enough."
"What do you mean..."
"Dunno why, but you seem to be hiding something. No need to flash your... in front of others—"
"Sh-Shut up! I love it, so shut it!"
Hmm... She seems pleased...?
She grabbed Michelan's collar in a panic, cutting him off desperately.
"...What harm is there in saying it outright."
Michelan floated midair, looking somewhat forlorn.
Even as curiosity burned to ask...
Whoosh!
His face beet red, trembling hands moving the holy sword aside.
No courage to voice any questions remained...