Revolution Of The 8th Class Mage / Revolution of the 8th Class Mage Chapter 119
Bertholdo nodded in response to Ian’s question.
“Yes. Certainly. His master creation is being stored in that third statue, over there.”
Craven was said to be the master sculptor.
What sort of power holding sculpture is being stored?
What kind of enhancement can it give him?
A sorcerer’s curiosity kept Ian inquisitive.
The desire to test them became so overwhelming.
“It seems that you’re very curious of Craven’s master creation.”
Ian did not necessarily deny it.
In fact, he acknowledged it by nodding his head.
“Fran did also. He could not remain patient when he was curious. It must be a trait that runs in the Paige family.”
After reciting quietly as if he has been reminiscing, Bertholdo walked over to Craven.
The baby faced Craven was still sleeping.
“This guy, did you put him to sleep with magic?”
“It was a light spell. He was acting very impetuous.”
“No doubt, since he has been hiding behind his memories.”
Bertholdo’s large palm was extended towards Craven. More precisely, it wrapped around Craven’s forehead. It was so big that a single palm was as big as Craven’s head.
“Rise. My old friend.”
Ian quietly watched.
He didn’t necessarily feel the flow of mana.
It didn’t appear magic was being used to awaken him.
“You are at your home. How about stop hiding and coming out?”
How long has Bertholdo’s whispering been? Finally, Craven’s regained his consciousness. He opened his eyes and even surveyed the surroundings.
He took in the images of Bertholdo’s face just before his eyes, Ian, who was watching beside him, the white temple and even the familiar landscape of the Knocking Island.
“Craven. That is your name.”
“The world’s greatest sculpture and.”
“The greatest …… Sculpture.”
“You are one of the master craftsmen of Fran.”
“Fran….. Fran Paige…..”
It was when he murmured that name.
A transformation took place in Craven’s body.
What used to be brown, his hair turned black.
His skin was also pale until just a moment ago.
In general, he took on the aura that was similar to Bertholdo.
After having to pull his hair and vomit for a while, Craven regained control of his emotions. Was it because he had an invincible body? The speed of recovery was not like any other.
“….. Mr. Bertholdo?”
Craven called Bertholdo, a ‘Mr.’ It seemed as if though he has recalled his memory for the first time in one to two hundred years, after Fran Paige’s disappearance. His memory has not returned completely, but had to be pleased with it so far. Even though he was of a younger age, he has at least became self aware of his ‘existence’ as Craven.
“Looks like you’re back.”
“How, how did I come here…..”
“That gentleman helped you.”
Craven located Ian as Bertholdo pointed at him.
He murmured in great shock. Rather than considering Ian as an assassin, it was like a form of after effects of a lot of recollections being collided.
“As I have mentioned before, I’m not an assassin.”
“Do not approach! I’ve never stole any bread….. What, what am I saying right now…..”
It seemed the after effects were much severe than thought.
Even after having felt uncomfortable and strange with his own response, he wasn’t able to control himself as he even hid behind Bertholdo. Of course, as his outward appearance was still a child, it didn’t seem all that awkward.
“Hm, I reckon that some more time maybe needed.”
Ian expressed an agreement to Bertholdo’s assessment.
It was the weight of the memories that have been stored over hundreds of years.
It probably wasn’t easy to shake that off.
Perhaps, it may be impossible.
“Mr. Mr. Bertholdo.”
“Have you taken out…..the master piece, made for Fran?”
“Ah, as you can see.”
Craven’s eyes sparkled immediately.
The first dragon storage sculpture that was holding the robe.
He was looking at now what is an empty storage.
“There, his descendant has come.”
“That assassin….. Mr. Assassin is the descendant? Fran’s descendant?”
Strange title has been made as he suffered from both the after effects and the present time.
Craven fell into deep thoughts after seeing Ian, whom he called ‘Mr. Assassin’.
“Then, I will also…..”
Finally having decided on something, he began to move towards another location.
And that location was the third sculpture.
It was the sculpture, in which his own master piece was being stored.
Craven injected his mana into the third dragon sculpture. Its mouth cracked wide open and out flowed bright light. The master piece that was inside also fell with a slow parachuting spell.
Craven’s creation fell on to the ground and rolled.
However, the identity of the piece seemed quite unique.
The long eight master pieces in all.
No matter how hard he looked.
They were heavy, thick and white metal stakes.
At least that’s how they came across to Ian.
‘Those plain looking stakes are master pieces?’
Irrespective of whether Ian was having doubts or not, Craven appeared pleased as he picked up one of the stakes. Then he crawled into the sculpture through under the tail. It was a behavior that couldn’t be explained at all.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, I’m not too sure, myself.”
Bertholdo, too, could not understand Craven’s behavior.
“I’ll also show you the master piece that I’ve made.”
After murmuring shyly, Craven began to hammer in the stake at a spot below the dragon sculpture’s tail.
It wasn’t being done by brute force. There had been a premade fitting hole in the first place.
“If you were to hammer in the stake….. Right here, like this…..”
As the stake was being hammered deep into the spot under the sculpture’s tail, the reason behind storing a plain looking stake, which Craven has created, was being slowly revealed.
“Assassin….. I mean, let me introduce it to you, his descendant!”
With the immediate change in the verbal title for Ian,
An awesome site began to display in the middle of the island.
To say it in one word….., It moved.
What has actually moved?
The sculpture into which the stake had been hammered into.
That is, the gigantic foot of the sculpture.
The long neck and tail.
Along with the wings.
After introducing the name, Craven’s attention moved towards the sculpture. To be exact, he examined the order in which the sculptures were lined up. The sculpture that moved was the third one from the left.
The dragon sculpture that looked exactly like that of a live dragon.
That white sculpture began to flap its wings.
There also spewed blue light out of its sculpted eyes.