This won’t do.”
Weed set down his carving knife.
It wasn’t because he didn’t dare change the thousand sculptures on the River of Lamentation’s basin, or because the ghosts within the river were wailing and the sculptures looked terrifying on the foggy riverside.
The monsters!
He couldn’t ignore the Embinyu Church’s Priests and Dark Knights and while sculpting. It was like telling a growing elementary school kid in his prime to ignore the meat on his plate and only eat the vegetables.
Desire for experience and items. It boiled within Weed until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Copious strong monsters and items. He couldn’t leave those monsters alone and sculpt an Orc’s head.
With explosively rising thirst, Weed raised his carving knife again. His plan wasn’t to correct the sculptures on the River of Lamentations basin, but to create an entirely new sculpture.
*Slice* *Slice*!
He was making a sculpture by hewing the darkness.
Making a huge sculpture out of stone was the method he was used to. Unexpectedly, he couldn’t cut the brittle, porous stone easily.
“I must make a mount first.”
He recalled back when he had been a Skeleton Knight.
The Skeleton Knight alone had managed the battle he’d been transported to from the Tower of Heroes.
The tremendous acceleration he’d had while riding his horse on the plains in the historical Palrangka battle!
There was no obstacle for a Knight’s gallop.
When he charged, his attack cleaved through monsters. Given a horse, Knights became at least 3 or 4 times more powerful.
“I may be a Sculptor, but I can run.”
He didn’t have a special skill like a Knight did, but even if he didn’t have a skill that allows him to become one with a horse, he was still able to run.
It was also common for Mercenaries to have their own horse once they grew to some extent.
“Even so, I don’t need to bother to sculpt a horse.”
Weed did not want something weak like a horse.
A horse was fast, but didn’t have very high endurance. They behaved differently in variable moods. They were also often afraid of fire, lightning, ghosts, and the like.
He wasn’t a Knight specialized in horses anyway.
“The best of mounts is that after all.”
Weed was a Korean citizen.
The livestock that had appeased people’s pain numerous times in Korea’s lengthy, winding history!
There was no reason to sculpt a horse when there was a strong and firm livestock possessing immense, leathery muscular strength he was so familiar with.
Our cow.
Korean beef!
Weed sculpted the special rock, the jet-black darkness.
The legs were thick and solid. The thigh muscles were incomparably delicate, and the entire body was completely muscular.
If a normal cow raised on grain was dangling with fat for the sake of the meat, the cow he was sculpting right now was different.
This one could enter Versailles Continent’s Mister Bull Olympiad!
If hunk-loving heifers were to see him, they would immediately shake their short tails as they lied down.
“It won’t do to blindly develop muscles.”
Weed even demonstrated the virtue of self-control.
A muscular body might have strong bursts of power, but it had the disadvantage of lackluster endurance and agility.
“I have to minimize the unnecessary muscles and optimize the muscular strength and endurance.”
Weed paid attention to even the bull’s beauty.
Before he won his sculpting victory from Death Hand, he had intentionally made a failed bull to appear weak. He had gained experience while losing Fame. It was why he couldn’t help but be much more skillful as he sculpted the bull.
He sculpted the size of the horns to be around 30 cm (~1 ft) long with its tips sharp enough to penetrate a steel plate, and also made its face broad.
It was a muscular bull, but its butt was expansive.
“The face of Korean cattle must be broad. The bigger the butt, the better. The eyes have to be round.”
His deep-rooted bias concerning cows!