Weed, who was a Moonlight Sculptor, learned to control light. There were special sculptors everywhere. There were those who sculpted because they wanted to. Their love of sculpting became their driving force and motivation.
Now, he gained the confidence to sculpt the mysterious existences that begged him to sculpt them.
– You incompetent sculptor, use your dull head and hands to sculpt me.
- What is the reason why you won’t sculpt me. I’ll listen to everything so make me!
‘I have to understand them. I have to make them with the feelings they exude.’
The reason why a water droplet shimmered so beautifully was because it brought all the best characteristics to life. Wind expressed freedom, and rainbows were fantastical.
The faintly visible characteristics of a rainbow you see as if you’re in a dream were alive in Kendellev’s sculpture. The ample emotion that forced adults to fall back into childhood innocence!
Weed held the sculpting knives in both of his hands.
‘I will become them. I will absorb the feelings they are giving me. I will sculpt them as my heart leads me.’
- Sculptor, will you make me?
The cordial and dignified voice, the warmly encouraging yet not impolite voice—Weed decided
to preserve that sensation inside his being.
Human, monster, or however it looked, putting a name on it was difficult. To classify it, he must focus on the voice.
The voice held a lot of information.
Its current emotions and personality, the matching body, and the overall inclination that remained intact, could be felt.
‘Eyes that are alight with warmth, hands that are at least average in size, wide and healthy shoulders and body. I can’t omit the gallant feeling and the warmth.’
Instead of agonizing on what to make beforehand, he created the sculpture by following the flow of emotion.
The legs were long, as were the arms. Everything was a little longer than they were on humans. But it was not hideous like a monster, and was a sculpture that gave off the feeling of a tenderly benevolent gentleman.