Chapter 649 - Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint

Kelvin Celsius possessed the oldest of impressions. Now, its functionality had become so creaky that without auxiliary support from other relics, it could hardly maintain any semblance of order on its own. Yet, there are certain memories that linger conspicuously well. Those moments of public disgrace or those so shockingly abrupt events, they remain, like indelible stains on the mind, surfacing from time to time. "Please... stop it..." Even to Kelvin Celsius, whose consciousness had become faint, this was a theme impossible to dismiss. "I'm... I'm not as great as you all think!" "Pardon?" Embarrassment. Even after death, she retained her sense of embarrassment, awakening in a convulsion at words of worship directed towards her. "What are you saying? Humility can become vexing if taken too far, Kelvin." "I never expected to meet you like this, but it's an honor to do so, even in this manner." However, the impressions present here were all those who became relics filled with pride directed at Celsius. They regarded Kelvin with united respect. Kelvin trembled, despite being at the center of this tribute, shaking as if undergoing some form of communal bullying. Finding it amusing, I decided to join in. “All I ever heard about you from the Celsius family was your greatness. They even said you were attacked for damaging the balance. Strange, isn’t it? Even if half of those achievements were true, you’d be more than a great figure.” “No... that... everything I did..." “Why? Surely no one impersonated you to undertake those feats, right? Unless…” I tilted my head as I asked. “Did you impersonate someone else?” I asked with a degree of disbelief, but Kelvin couldn't answer immediately. Shaking her head back and forth, she spoke as if sobbing. “It wasn't by my will. By the time I realized it, people celebrated it as my achievements. But that wasn't my accomplishment...." “Pardon? If those weren't your achievements, whose were they?” Kelvin's impression wavered greatly. The impression of her that had been sleeping within the relic seemed intent on showing something. Her memory unfolded around the tribute center: barren plains, a pitch-black night sky, and countless twinkling little stars. Just before we slipped into Celsius’s past, Kelvin quietly confessed. “Fahrenheit.” Back when the Magic Federation was neither a nation nor a habitable place for people. An era not too distant, where without any prominent civilization, refugees were eking out their survival building shanties. There was a missionary named Rene. Despite being branded an apostate for having embezzled the knowledge collected by the mission, she remained respected for not using that knowledge for personal gain. Rene wandered refugee camps, taking in orphans and teaching children to fend for themselves. How to procure water. How to kindle a fire. How to read a map. How to count stars and read the sky. Along with lessons on living together with others. Her fair face toughened by the biting winds and etched with wrinkles over time. Still, she didn’t stop her work. Believing that knowledge had the power to enrich everyone, she disseminated it widely to all. Celsius was just one of her many disciples. Without any particular talent. Rene had numerous disciples. Those insatiably thirsty for more knowledge despite having learned enough remained by her side, seeking superior learning. They were called Magi, after the name of the first saint and the wise men who blessed her, which later became the etymological root for the term 'wizard.' Indeed, attaching the name of the wise figures from the scriptures seemed rather apt. They were exceptionally bright and changed the world with their knowledge. Though every finger bitten doesn’t hurt the same, there was a preference. Among them was one exceptionally talented disciple. His name was Fahrenheit. In this cold and dry northern land, more needed than anything abstract, was the Magi of flame. He was a man like fire. Easily inflamed and dazzlingly radiant. Though he cooled down quickly, no human refuses fire for lacking steadfastness. Among Rene's disciples, Fahrenheit stood before everyone, sparkling like the starlight. Though everyone coveted the flame, it was equally perilous. Many schemed to either steal or entice Fahrenheit's proprietary magic, with frequent attempts of abduction or coercion. However, those who attempted it were all incinerated. Fahrenheit wasn’t just skilled in combat. He was also adept with his hands, putting that skill to use in his research. “Heat? Warmth? Even that can be expressed as a value. See the mercury inside the glass? It has risen compared to before. This is a measure of how much warmth has entered the mercury.” His path left trails of fire, and civilization blossomed amidst the melted ice. He might not have been the most intelligent or the greatest but Fahrenheit was undoubtedly the most powerful wizard. “If you’re going to imitate me, do it right, Celsius.” And Celsius was closer to a disciple, or rather a follower, scavenging after his leftovers. Fahrenheit crafted glass by melting sand with his fire. He wielded the destructive flame with precision, crafting various tools from glass. Celsius could grasp a few of them, but she had no inkling of the purpose behind the other tools he created. “The scale dropped below 0? What’s the issue? Just record the value below 0. Why are you making such a fuss over that?” “I told you to be careful with that flask as it contains boiling oil. How could you not know it was hot until you see it boiling vigorously?” “Think of heat as piling up on sand! Naturally, it flows from high to low places!” It was incredibly difficult. Even following was exhausting. Whenever he exerted his powers, approaching him was a life-threatening endeavor, and understanding required endless nights of study. Whenever completely baffled and in need of guidance, Fahrenheit would let out deep sighs before teaching her. Though she couldn't keep up from the beginning, at some point, Celsius even gave up competing. Instead, she decided to become a translator. The tools crafted by Fahrenheit were extraordinarily complex and perplexing. If even the gifted Celsius found them so, what hope was there for others? Ordinary people were more inclined to smash them than to use or understand them. The language of geniuses differs from that of the common folk. With a sense of self-deprecation, Celsius continued with the 'translation.' Fahrenheit, who handled fire, melted sand to create glass. But glass was fragile, and only Fahrenheit could craft it into intricate tools. Celsius adapted Fahrenheit's useful glass inventions into materials more readily available to people. "What an incredible item! Celsius, you have quite the skillful hands!" Fahrenheit drew scales according to his own logic, which were easy for him to read, as he could calculate everything mentally. Celsius redrew the scales and adjusted the units. People marveled at the easily comprehensible scales. "In your honor, we shall call this Celsius!" Fahrenheit always aimed high, but falling from such heights was perilous. Celsius chose a lower path. She focused on freezing points rather than boiling ones, as cold was less hazardous than heat. Instead of storing heat with boiling spirits and mercury like Fahrenheit did, Celsius sought a stable method to preserve warmth. "So warm... thank you..." All of this was the byproduct of Fahrenheit, and what Celsius did was only to make his achievements more accessible by translating them into layman's terms. It wasn't something extraordinary. Yet people revered Celsius unanimously. As though they were more enraptured by a holy woman than a deity. "I merely named it; it wasn't something I discovered." The recollection ended. Despite that, the echoes of chants celebrating Celsius lingered in my ears. The masses failed to recognize the genius and celebrated the first Celsius, who had only brought back that language. Each time, Kelvin Celsius hid in embarrassment. That was all there was to the story. The narrative was much more trivial and insignificant than expected. I remarked: "You did become a relic, so you possess your own unique magic, don't you?" Possessing unique magic indicated at least the status of a wizard, and at that time, it would have been more valuable. "My unique magic was developed to withstand Fahrenheit. I had to shield myself to closely observe his research. Moreover, it's not impressive enough to boast about... These relics are far more remarkable." "I heard you managed to compress tremendous heat into a small crystal." "That heat belonged to Fahrenheit. All my power did was absorb it. Everyone misunderstood... They called me the wizard of burning ice..." You've even secured a fancy nickname. Though it seems like she could nearly die from embarrassment. Well, she is already gone, after all. "Nonetheless, it's unexpected. To think the true story of Celsius was like this." After hearing the tale in its entirety, I felt somewhat disappointed. The realm of Celsius, the magicians with a stronger sense of elitism than anyone. The relics and rules they prioritize. I understood, yet seeing this slightly warped impression, I thought there might be a significant twist hidden within. "There was no twist after all." Then Kelvin hunched down further as she said. "Yeah. There isn't a twist surpassing your expectations. I am..." "Weren't you indeed a great person? My time was wasted here." I anticipated a truly touching story, but hearing it all, it turned out to be self-promotion. In the end, it was merely self-praise. “Master, companions, admirers—all by your side. You've achieved results. In the future, you even established a domain and lived well. Even after death, you're still revered. It was a completely fulfilling life, wasn't it? I fail to see why you became a relic.” Unaware that I might be sarcastic, Kelvin answered. "Indeed. Objectively, I was quite lucky. I received far more recognition than my abilities warranted... Becoming a relic was, at least, a way to repay that." “Ah, that's annoying.” I'm at a loss for words. There's nothing you wish to change, no unfulfilled desire—just bearing unnecessary embarrassment as a relic. "Why are you annoyed?" “I thought I'd find someone claiming that those who don't understand magic are just pigs and dogs. That's more thrilling, isn’t it?” Kelvin responded, appalled. "Terrifying thought. That's not possible, right? We learned from Father Rene. Despite being closer to the truth than anyone, I've never seen anyone as humble as him. Naturally, we had to follow his example." "Magic is indeed the power of the special few. Something so foolish cannot even attempt to emulate." "That's true." Oh? She was speaking with uncertainty before, and now she's suddenly in agreement? "It is the power of the special. Like Fahrenheit or Father Rene. Truly special individuals accomplish great deeds with that power. It's not for fools like us..." “Fools?” "Yes. There were other disciples, ordinary ones like me, under Father Rene. We called each other fools among ourselves." It seems that initially, 'fool' wasn’t a term wizards used to deride laypeople. Its usage has shifted slightly now. "What is specialness? Why do we lack such talent? We ridiculed and despaired. Many gave up learning just because of their inferiority complexes." "There's really no need for that." "I was one of those who gave up. Instead of exploring lofty truths, I resorted to translating the answers given by the geniuses. Those achievements aren't even mine." "That's not giving up. It's discovering a path. You've made achievements." Though it lacked excitement, I fulfilled my purpose. Closing the scene Kelvin was painting, I spoke. "You wanted to be special. You wanted to understand geniuses. You longed to stand alongside them." "Yes. But I failed." "Still, you succeeded. You provided those far less than you a chance to understand geniuses. Thanks to you, others didn't have to feel despair." You conveyed knowledge that might have never been passed down otherwise. Isn't that accomplishment enough? "It wasn't my achievement. I merely conveyed someone else's achievements." “That is an achievement.” “It's Fahrenheit's achievement.” “Transmitting his achievements is what makes it your achievement. Saying a saint is nothing just because they conveyed divine words would be sacrilege.” Kelvin grasped the nuance of my words, yet muttered with a sense of dissatisfaction. "No matter how brilliant Fahrenheit was, he wasn't a god...." Ah, she's quick to point that out even now. Was it envy rather than admiration? But that's the crucial point. “Yes, he was likely just an ordinary human. At least, without you.” "...Me?" “Without you, he might have been deified. It was you who treated him as human, ensuring that the achievements, skills, and knowledge he left behind remained within the human realm.” I always tell myself I'm ordinary. It's not about modesty or humility. Being ordinary means being human. It's being within that boundary. Proclaiming oneself extraordinary is more problematic. It implies a refusal to be treated as human. “You didn’t fail to keep up with Fahrenheit’s genius; you tethered him to humanity, keeping him grounded. That’s a remarkable feat, wouldn’t you say?” “You make it sound like I did something wrong....” “It was a good deed. When intentions align, we call such mutually beneficial acts good, right?” “Mutually?” I nodded. “Fahrenheit likely wanted you to do just that.” “Fahrenheit?” “If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have shared his lifetime’s work with you. He even took the time to explain it to you patiently. In his own way, he relied on you too. Solving a problem is one thing, but explaining it in simple terms is an entirely different skill.” Thanks to Celsius, Fahrenheit did not have to become something extraordinary. His discoveries were brought down from their pedestal and shared with the world. It might seem insignificant, but that was everything. “You turned the extraordinary into the ordinary, and spread it to everyone. That’s your achievement.” Though the Celsius family seeks to make the rules themselves extraordinary. Kelvin pondered deeply before asking. “Even though Fahrenheit's personality wasn’t great and he looked down on people... maybe he wanted to be understood?” “Everyone does.” “Foolish, really. It’s not that hard.” “Mr. Fahrenheit likely thought the same as you. Why can't people get this? It’s not even that difficult.” Kelvin laughed freely. I could see the knots within her essence unraveling strand by strand. Kelvin Celsius sat back down, drawing her knees close at the center of the commemorative hall. Her form was still indistinct, but it gleamed brightly. “Still, I plan to remain here as long as I can.” “Please do.” “What about you? If you wish, you can leave anytime, King of Humans.” Well, that's true. Though I can’t read the thoughts of relics, one doesn’t need to read thoughts to utilize a tool. You simply use it. “Goodbye, Kelvin Celsius. Reading a book with a proper ending after so long leaves a pleasant lingering feeling. Though the dopamine is a bit lacking.” “Farewell, King of Humans.” Kelvin nestled back into the heart of the relics, falling into slumber once more, murmuring in a drowsy voice as she slipped into a long dream. “I made the right choice to remain, even in this state. After all, who knows what encounters the future holds....”