Chapter 81
Chapter 81
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Figure Containing a God
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ian possessed two grimoires.
Hand of Recreation and Deep Sea Chronicles.
Neither of them was an ordinary grimoire.
Hand of Recreation had been penned by an Outer God known as Recomposer of All Things.
Deep Sea Chronicles had been penned by an Outer God known as Master of the Outer Sea.
Of the two, he had encountered Hand of Recreation first. Since it was the grimoire that had sparked his path to becoming a mage, Ian personally felt a greater attachment to it. It wasn’t that he disliked Deep Sea Chronicles—it was simply that if he had to pick a favorite, that was the one.
In fact, it was only natural when thought about rationally.
Hand of Recreation exerted no influence whatsoever on its owner, while Deep Sea Chronicles threatened to devour him alive if it grew hungry. Who with a shred of sanity would side with the latter?
Of course, recreation magic wasn’t entirely free of side effects. Prolonged use brought headaches, accompanied by nausea and dizziness.
But that didn’t feel as bad as the threat of death.
Of course not. A minor ailment that vanished with a pill was obviously preferable to threats from deep-sea monstrosities intent on eating him alive.
And yet, Ian had chosen Deep Sea Chronicles over Hand of Recreation because it was the only one that had faintly manifested the form of its Outer God.
‘The form reflected in the Watcher.’
Ian still remembered the black-haired girl reflected in the single eye of the Watcher he had summoned while escaping Yohan General Hospital.
Recalling her exact appearance was impossible. Her face hadn’t been fully revealed, and everything below her neck had been an inky shadow.
He knew the Master of the Outer Sea was female only thanks to her small shoulders, long hair, and the pronoun “she” in the grimoire. Otherwise, even Ian wouldn’t have known her gender for certain.
In contrast, what of Recomposer of All Things?
The description in Hand of Recreation referred to Recomposer of All Things as “she,” just like in Deep Sea Chronicles. So it was undoubtedly female as well.
But he knew nothing of her appearance. Not the slightest trace.
Eyes? Nose? Mouth? Did she even have them? What color was her hair? What about her eyes? Was her body shaped like a human’s?
“……”
He knew nothing at all. It was impossible to suddenly demand a figure of Recomposer of All Things in that state.
What was there to sculpt when he didn’t even know what she looked like? No matter how great a sculptor Pygmalion was, he couldn’t carve a being he knew nothing about. Forcing something together would be no different from mistaking a watermelon for an apple.
It had been an unavoidable choice.
…or so Ian soothed Hand of Recreation. The grimoire whimpered softly from within his bag as he stroked it.
[Uung.]
The vibration felt like it was saying it would let it slide this once.
For some reason, it gave off the vibe of a long-suffering wife forgiving her philandering husband, but Ian pushed the thought aside.
‘I’ll take good care of Hand of Recreation for the time being.’
It was at that moment, as he thought this and tapped his foot, that Pygmalion set down his hammer and chisel with a satisfied smile after meticulously carving away.
“It’s done, mage.”
“Already? That was fast.”
He had only commissioned the sculpture five minutes ago, yet it was already complete in that short time.
As expected of a craftsman—his hands moved with incredible speed. Or perhaps he had used some anomalous power to accelerate the process.
Either way, it wasn’t particularly important. Ian closed and tidied his bag before standing and checking the time.
‘About three minutes left, roughly.’
Not much leeway, but enough to inspect the statue. Rubbing his stiff wrist from all the petting of the grimoire, Ian peered toward the spot behind Pygmalion.
Behind Pygmalion’s gray body.
Atop a small display case sat the statue of a certain girl.
Her expression was blank, her long, flowing hair jet-black. Her red eyes gleamed eerily, like pools of congealed blood. Her pale white skin shimmered even more ghostly under the ceiling lights.
“……Huh.”
It looked less like a statue and more like a living being. Though it consisted only of her upper thigh and pelvis, torso, arms, and head, the figure seemed to breathe with life. The faint rise and fall of her chest served as proof of her respiration.
“I’ve sculpted all the parts a human needs: organs, nerves, blood vessels, tendons, and so on. A shame I couldn’t make legs, but oh well. A client’s request must be honored.”
Pygmalion said. He stepped aside, turning to Ian with a grin.
“Go on, take a look. This is your wife now.”
“……”
Ian had no intention of taking a figurine or statue as his wife, but instead of arguing, he slowly approached it.
Up close, the statue was indistinguishable from a real person. Even pores and fine hairs were meticulously rendered.
“I didn’t know you had a thing for legless disabled women…… Well, beauty comes in all forms. I respect it.”
Ian ignored Pygmalion’s chatter from the side.
Standing before the statue, he met her red eyes and swallowed hard.
‘……So this is the Master of the Outer Sea.’
He knew it wasn’t complete. He was aware it likely differed from her true form.
But the image reflected in the Watcher and the form of this statue before him weren’t all that different. Comparing just their outward appearances, they seemed identical.
‘The overwhelming pressure from back then isn’t here, but that’s unavoidable.’
Back then, the Master of the Outer Sea had briefly revealed her true form through the Watcher’s eye.
Now, this was merely a lifeless statue. It had been granted life and matched her appearance, but at its core, it was still inorganic. It couldn’t possibly produce phenomena on par with an Outer God.
Still, it was more than enough to properly confirm her looks. He could picture her as roughly this image from now on.
“Ung?”
Ian nodded as his eyes met the statue’s, which had tilted its head quizzically.
At that moment, the grimoire in his hand vibrated briefly.
[Uung.]
Before Ian could react, the grimoire moved on its own, flying above the statue’s head.
There was no time to respond. As Ian’s eyes widened and Pygmalion raised an eyebrow at the unexpected turn,
Puk!
The grimoire plunged straight into the statue’s chest, shattering the ivory.
“……!”
“Fuck!”
Ian gasped in shock, and Pygmalion cursed. Undeterred, the grimoire crumbled the ivory as it burrowed deep into the space where the heart should have been.
It fully replaced the heart’s position, and black seawater began trickling from its cover.
Gurgle……!
Ian’s face hardened at the familiar outer ocean’s brine, while Pygmalion froze, overwhelmed by instinctive terror.
“……”
“……Uaaah. Ah, uwaaa……”
The three-minute grace period had long expired. Yet Pygmalion posed no threat to Ian; he merely trembled violently, teeth chattering, as if beholding something beyond resistance.
Ian, meanwhile, was fine. Without any mental distortion or physical shaking, he stared at the statue now engulfed in black outer ocean waters.
Sudden developments. Black seawater overflowing without any spellcasting. The reactions of dread from others—especially toward anomalies—excluding Ian.
It felt familiar. Just like the first time the Master of the Outer Sea had revealed a fragment of herself in the hospital—
“Ahaha.”
The moment the thought crossed his mind, clear laughter rang out from the statue’s direction. Ian whipped his head around reflexively, only for a small hand to extend and lightly pinch both his cheeks. His cheeks dimpled under the grip, lips puckering out involuntarily.
A comical sight. But the situation was anything but funny.
“Mmmp?!”
Ian rolled his eyes in confusion to see the owner of the hand. The statue, its chest pierced by the grimoire, gazed at him with eyes brimming with mischief and affection.
“My love.”
Its mouth slowly opened. A red tongue peeked between red lips, and with those mere words, its body began crumbling slowly from the bottom up, as if the effort was too much.
But the statue—no, whatever had borrowed the statue’s body—smiled carefree.
“This body is far too lowly to contain me.”
“……”
“I’ve only infused a fingernail’s worth of consciousness by human standards. It won’t do at all.”
She exhaled softly onto Ian’s face, then planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. She smiled shyly.
“But there’s no reason to ignore an opportunity, is there?”
“……You.”
“My husband. Lord of the Outer Sea. My first love.”
‘She’ smiled as she pried Ian’s mouth open with her thumb. Then she pulled out his tongue with her fingers.
“I’m waiting for you.”
“Mmph……!”
“But I’m not one for endless patience. Especially not with rivals in the picture.”
She smiled gently as she bit down hard on Ian’s captured tongue with her teeth. A trickle of blood welled from the wound, and she drank it with an innocent grin.
“I want to claim you. Mark every inch, every corner, as mine.”
“……”
“But I’ll hold back. Because you’d hate it. This will have to satisfy me for now.”
“……Urk.”
“Take care. I’m always watching.”
She beamed as she sucked the bead of blood from the tip of his tongue.
The next moment, the statue fully crumbled, and the grimoire fell to the floor.
[…….]
The grimoire lay limp like a corpse, utterly unresponsive. The title on its cover had faded, suggesting it had overexerted itself. It might not be usable for magic anytime soon.
“……”
It was serious, but he didn’t have the luxury to worry about that now. Ian wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, picked up the grimoire, and collapsed to the floor.
‘……Love sure is heavy.’
Amusingly, that was his first thought.