Chapter 314
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 314
Chapter Title: Maybe So.
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“A solution, you say...”
Syr wore a peculiar expression.
From the moment she’d dragged him here claiming she had something to show him, he’d anticipated something extraordinary.
But the ‘extraordinary thing’ she actually revealed far exceeded even her own expectations.
“You’re saying these sculptures could provide answers to the limitations of Dagda’s Cauldron?”
Bronze statues, stone figures, wooden carvings.
Even glass and clay ones.
Syr stared in disbelief at the countless sculptures filling the training room, each crafted from diverse materials.
Rimon replied to her with perfect composure.
“Perhaps.”
“What’s with that vague answer?”
“That’s why I called you here—to verify it myself.”
“...Kid, sometimes I swear you’re just too brazen for your own good.”
“Not half as much as you, old hag.”
She narrowed her eyes at Rimon for a moment.
In the end, she let out a chuckle, as if she couldn’t stay mad, and stepped forward.
She pulled out her glasses and began meticulously examining the sculptures crammed into the training room.
“These are definitely no ordinary pieces.”
Whether as a Roman emperor...
Or as a great witch who had lived for thousands of years...
By the standards of Syr, who had encountered countless works of art, every sculpture here was masterful enough to draw involuntary gasps of admiration.
But her assessment had nothing to do with their artistic merit or craftsmanship.
It concerned the mysteries dwelling within them.
They were clearly not magic tools.
Hard to classify as items, either.
And yet, every single sculpture in this room brimmed with vivid mysteries.
She couldn’t discern the finer details from a cursory glance, but the sheer abundance of such works allowed Syr to intuit one key fact.
“You’ve unsealed the carving knife?”
“Well, more or less.”
Syr’s expression lit up with intrigue as she eyed the platinum carving knife in its glass case, which Rimon drew from his pocket.
Plato’s Carving Knife.
She knew well the power of this divine ritual tool crafted by the Word Sorcerer Plato.
She’d seen Michelangelo’s masterpieces, born from passing its trials—not to mention witnessing the creation process firsthand.
And so, Syr curled her lips into a sly smile.
“This is intriguing. Creations from that knife were always special, but they never held mysteries this pronounced.”
“Figures. This isn’t the knife’s inherent power.”
“You mean its power as one of the Seven Arks—the ability to imbue sculptures with mysteries?”
Syr grasped the implication immediately.
Just as the Violin of Profound Darkness—once cursed only to force performances—had gained the ability to infuse constellation power...
It wasn’t a stretch to assume Plato’s Carving Knife had awakened new potential upon becoming a Seven Ark.
What caught her off guard was Rimon’s response.
“Who knows. If that were the extent of its power, I’d be sleeping a lot easier.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“This.”
Ignoring Syr’s cocked head, Rimon strode forward.
And the instant he tapped one bronze statue...
Swish...
Syr’s eyes went wide.
The statue’s shadow writhed, then abruptly split apart left and right, spilling out a compass, a hammer, and more.
But that was merely the opener.
A snake-shaped stone statue vanished through space, only to pop out on the far side of the training ground.
An ornate scale, its pan previously empty, now bore black and white weights etched with intricate patterns.
Wooden busts that duplicated into two, then three, multiplying into dozens of identical copies.
The relentless display from sculpture after sculpture was spectacle enough to leave even the legendary great witch momentarily speechless.
Syr wasn’t the only one dumbfounded.
“...Li Chingwei, are all these sculptures magic tools or items?”
“No, neither.”
“Then what is this display?”
“Who knows. Even for me, all I can say is what you’re seeing.”
Her face remained impassive as ever.
Li Chingwei gave a wry smile at Aynsha’s blatantly stunned demeanor.
It wasn’t incomprehensible.
As a priestess of the Holy Alliance who’d beheld countless magic tools, Aynsha...
No—precisely because of that experience, her fluster at this preposterous scene was only natural.
“This goes beyond mere mysteries dwelling within.”
Perhaps thanks to her vast experience.
The shock might have hit her harder than Aynsha.
Yet Syr regained her poise more swiftly, adjusting her glasses.
After scrutinizing the powers manifesting from the statues, she murmured with genuine fascination.
“Definitely not magic, and distinct from skills. That one in particular feels akin to those monsters I saw in London.”
As if she’d pieced something together...
Her gaze lingered on the bronze statue with its rippling shadow amid the array.
Syr narrowed her eyes and turned to Rimon.
“Kid, could the carving knife’s ability be...?”
“Just as you guessed, old hag—this knife can imbue more than mysteries alone.”
Rimon nodded.
He revealed the true nature of the carving knife’s power, gleaned from hands-on use.
“It’s the very power I sliced from constellations and absorbed.”
“...!”
“And not limited to constellation power, either.”
Indeed.
The sculpture he’d gifted to Maia.
The secret to embedding dragon psyonic—impossible for ordinary objects—into a mere sculpture lay with Plato’s Carving Knife.
That revelation alone was enough to send Aynsha’s pupils quaking.
“Just to be sure—what’s the cost of crafting these sculptures?”
“Eh, probably just the material expenses?”
“Nothing beyond that?”
“Not a thing.”
“...What kind of broken item is this?”
“It’s meant to shock—and trust me, I was shocked plenty.”
“This isn’t the sort of thing you just ‘get shocked by’ and move on...”
Finally tongue-tied.
Syr let out a deep sigh.
If it merely imbued mysteries, she could have accepted it.
Lightning-struck deadwood.
A doll brimming with affection.
A dilapidated house haunted by folklore.
Mysteries could inhabit all manner of objects for myriad reasons—and exploiting those to hoodwink providence formed the foundation of magic.
But Rimon’s sculptures were tantamount to fully realized spells in their own right.
The implication was singular.
“If it’s as you say, kid, then the knife’s wielder could mass-produce treasures like these without any cost.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Absurd. Unrealistic.”
Aynsha had begun denying reality outright.
Magic tools aside.
Even items demanded commensurate materials and effort.
That was why production-class players shelled out fortunes for high-grade monster parts.
Yet to churn out such artifacts without mystical ingredients or dungeon drops? Pure transcendence of logic.
“Want to hear something even more insane?”
“There’s nothing left to surprise me with.”
“Even though I haven’t cleared the knife’s third trial stage yet?”
“You mean you can pull this off without it even being at full power?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“...Now I get why those Liberation Brigade fools are risking their necks to collect the Seven Arks.”
Syr clicked her tongue.
Having lived since the Silver Age, she’d encountered every divine relic imaginable—and witnessed gods’ miracles aplenty.
Even so, she’d never dreamed of artifacts this outrageous.
That was when...
Aynsha’s face shifted to one of realization.
“R. The bounty on the Liberation Brigade—is this why?”
“Yeah.”
With a slow nod...
Rimon gazed at the carving knife in his hand and continued.
“Testing this knife made something click for me.”
[What realization?]
“The Liberation Brigade might be far more dangerous than we thought.”
[...Hearing that from you, Team Leader, sounds seriously weird.]
Yuna Kyung muttered uneasily.
Aynsha tilted her head likewise, while Syr couldn’t conceal her surprise.
Anyone else, maybe.
But from Rimon—who’d safeguarded the world for centuries and single-handedly decimated half the Brigade’s phantoms—it was an assessment too lofty by half.
Yet Rimon’s expression grew grave.
“Think it through.”
“A single, incomplete Seven Ark wields this much power.”
“The Brigade already holds two.”
“If the others pack punch comparable to this knife, what do you suppose they could accomplish?”
[That’s...]
Yuna Kyung trailed off.
The Violin of Profound Darkness alone wasn’t flashy on the surface, but...
It let Rimon infuse stellar power or wield dragon psyonic—otherwise crushed by sword intent.
It boasted utility beyond common sense.
Plato’s Carving Knife could outright reshape the item market.
If the Brigade’s Arks matched that caliber?
The possibilities were staggering.
Impossible to fully fathom.
“Plus, the sculptor said they grow stronger with each Ark collected.”
“That old demon wasn’t even a lord, yet the knife let him surpass most incarnations.”
“Had a lord wielded it... well.”
“Even the dragonized Green Dragon Princess might’ve had her hands full.”
Syr’s expression turned peculiar at his words.
“So you’re saying a lord gaining Ark power might match a dragonized princess in strength?”
“Depending on how many Arks they acquire, they might exceed her.”
“...”
In that instant...
An eerie silence blanketed the room.
The weight of Rimon’s words was that profound.
The Seven Princesses were the Seven Dragon Society’s pinnacle warriors.
Matchups, raw power, conditions varied, but each was a superhuman rivaling the era’s absolute rulers: the lords.
Dragonized? Incomparable.
Awakening their draconic true blood turned them half-human, half-dragon—wielding might that toppled gods.
That power alone let the Seven Dragons endure as a ‘demonic cult’ through the Heroes Age, preserving lineage and might.
Few could claim superiority over a dragonized princess.
Exceptions: their progenitors, the seven dragons.
The demon god who razed Europe.
Or...
“Overestimation.”
Aynsha interjected abruptly.
“R, excessive. The Brigade lacks such power.”
Her stoic face and flat tone lent it a veneer of rationality.
But Yuna Kyung sensed the truth.
Less ‘impossible’ than ‘it mustn’t be.’
The hypothesis was so jarring it triggered a defensive denial.
Still, Aynsha’s counter wasn’t wholly unfounded.
Common sense backed her.
Rimon’s speculation was the true outlier.
Hence why Aynsha stiffened at the ensuing calm voice.
“No, I think the Sword Duke is correct.”
“...Li Chingwei. You mean that earnestly?”
“Better to overestimate a foe than underestimate.”
“Irrational.”
“Maybe so.”
There were limits to hypotheticals.
In that vein, Rimon’s was akin to fretting the seas might run dry.
Li Chingwei nodded agreeably to the voice of reason that was Aynsha.
Then, with a gentle smile, she posed a question.
“But Aynsha—what does your gut tell you is closer to the truth?”
“...”
Aynsha fell silent.
That silence spoke volumes.
Uncharacteristic anxiety from one so emotionally stunted revealed precisely what she sensed.