Chapter 225 Is fate really that easy to control by oneself?
Thane examined the other swords William had replicated, unable to stop his body from trembling. Limping, he approached William, his voice quivering, and asked, "Did you create all of these in just one day?"
William chuckled, "Or did you think they were all genuine?"
"Real ones..." Thane took a deep breath, murmured, "If they were all genuine, I wouldn't find it that surprising. But the fact that these are replicas..."
If everything in the room was authentic, that could be explained.
If these artifacts had always been in Ravenwood and the grand mage simply delivered them through William, then William would just be a middleman, nothing extraordinary.
But these artifacts were replicas!
William's craftsmanship was beyond terrifying!
"Who is your master?" Thane couldn't believe that someone of William's age with such skill wouldn't have a teacher.
William smiled faintly, "My master once advised me not to reveal his name to anyone."
He didn't have a master. William merely conjured up an excuse to appease Thane.
"You possess such skill at such a young age. I can only imagine the expertise of your master. I'm impressed!" Thane grinned, "To witness such a craftsman before my end is truly a blessing."
With that, leaning on his cane, he headed toward the cliff.
Steven followed closely, saying, "Thane, rest assured, we have many in our unit without parents. I can have them be your adopted sons."
"No need!" Thane, with his back to Steven and William, waved dismissively, "The scenery of Ravenwood is exquisite. I've limped all my life. Now, I wish to cast aside this cane and be buried in this beautiful place."
"You!" Steven hastened his steps, asking, "Thane, are you thinking of ending your life?"
"Living a few more days won't make a difference. Today, I witnessed the true level of a master craftsman. I have no regrets!" Thane smiled wryly, "It's a good day. There's no need to find someone as my adopted son, lest the chosen young one suffers a tragic fate like mine."
Upon saying that, he had already approached the edge of the cliff. Tossing aside his cane, he spread his arms wide with a smile on his face. Limping, yet sprinting with all his might, he reached the edge and leapt, his frail body soaring like an eagle spreading its wings.
"My life and death are mine to decide! At least the day I die is of my own choosing!"
By the time William and Steven reached the cliff's edge, Thane had already plummeted into the vast abyss below.
Staring at the mist-covered cliff ahead, Steven sighed, "Thane has found his release."
William remained silent.
Ordinary people practicing forbidden magic do not have an abundance of internal energy to draw from. The forbidden magic consumes their very life force.
Unlike a Soulmancer with extraordinary abilities to balance internal energies, these ordinary individuals can easily deplete their energy, making it challenging to sustain themselves. Persistent depletion could lead to organ failure or physical disabilities.
Those who truly understood the contents of the "Da Vinci Manuscript" seemed cursed. They are aware of their fate early on, knowing when they'll depart from this world. This knowledge brings them boundless pain, feeling as if their lives are controlled by this unknown force.
And when death looms close, they may choose to defy fate.
William didn't ponder the depth of the cliff. He merely speculated that even if Thane jumped from such a towering precipice, he might not necessarily die.
The curse brought about by practicing forbidden magic is something even William can't contend with. Thane wished to end his life today, even though he had nineteen days left. But does a jump guarantee death?
And he said, "My life and death are mine to decide!"
William didn't see Thane's act as anything heroic or tragic. To him, Thane was just pitiable.
"William, accompany me to meet the senior professors," Steven, moving on quickly from Thane's incident, said, hands clasped behind his back, as he turned and headed down the mountain.
Without a word, William followed behind Steven.
"William, with your abilities, you can contribute to the nation and its people," Steven spoke with an air of leadership, "Most importantly, you must use your skills for meaningful endeavors, ensuring you don't stray off the right path."
William responded with a silent smile. Leadership qualities?
Alexander the Great possessed ample leadership qualities, but such traits were inconsequential in William's eyes.
He was quite fond of the present era's society. Contributing to the nation was certainly an option. Making society better ensured he lived more comfortably, and that sentiment was undeniably true.
Steven paused for a moment, then suddenly asked, "William, are you sure all those items in the house are fakes?"
William couldn't help but laugh, retorting, "You don't actually believe they're real, do you?"
Steven, with a complicated expression, replied, "...It's just that they look too authentic! I'm starting to wonder if the old sorcerer Kyle arranged this with you, that these items were genuine, only to be returned through you."
William stated, "What's fake is fake, no matter how authentic it appears."
"Right, that's true," Steven nodded in agreement, not saying much more. However, he had already made up his mind: once he reclaimed these items, he would have them thoroughly researched by the 13th Bureau.
Setting other matters aside, the sheen, texture, and patterns on those four swords didn't seem fake at all. The inscriptions on other artifacts also radiated an ancient, timeworn aura. Steven was no stranger to antiques, and these items didn't appear to be recent creations by any means.
Even if they were forgeries, they were worth investigating!
He sneaked a glance at William. Zoey really did have an uncanny ability to spot talent.
Even if William appeared rather clueless on a typical day, if he indeed crafted these items, then regardless of his other abilities, he was undeniably a gem.
Steven led William to the Ravenwood site, where they located Edward Taylor and his group of elderly professors.
The archaeologists were primarily in their 70s, with the youngest being over 40. Upon their arrival, a professor with reading glasses hastily inquired, "Mr. Garcia, how did your negotiations go?"
"The items have been recovered," Steven replied, "I'll have them delivered to New York tomorrow."
"They've been recovered?! It must have been that old charlatan Kyle who stole them!" the old professor exclaimed angrily. "That absolute fraudster, always up to no good! Even when caught, he refuses to admit it!"
"Mr. Garcia, you must handle this properly. That Kyle must be prosecuted. Stealing the nation's precious heritage is a grave offense!"
Steven almost chuckled. Sentencing Kyle for a decade or more?
Even if Kyle did commit the act, how could their 13th Bureau possibly apprehend him?
And if they did, in which prison could they possibly contain him?
"Let's not overreact," Steven interjected. "Ordinary people couldn't have taken those items, and you couldn't have researched them either. The old sorcerer Kyle meant well; he sealed the mysterious powers within them. Otherwise, even if handed to you, you wouldn't be able to study them."
The artifacts from Mount San Juan Teotihuaca had been in that cave for days, and these academic scholars were helpless regarding them. After all, touching them was fatal, let alone attempting any research.
Steven acted as the peacemaker. He couldn't tarnish the reputation of the Arcane Society, after all.
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