However, he still didn't quite understand how Ian's mind worked.
"I don't just want swordsmanship," Ian declared, his tone full of exaggerated conviction. "I want a sword that moves by itself. You get that? The new era of sword cultivation! Innovation! Evolution! A sword that can fight enemies on its own, loot the corpses, sell the treasure, and bring me back piles of gold galleons! Can your memories do that?"
Ian's eyes were full of suspicion and disbelief.
And indeed, Pandero's raw swordsmanship memories couldn't develop an independent will.
But after a moment of stiff silence, Pandero's eyes lit up with a flash of desperate inspiration.
"My memories might not move on their own," he said quickly, "but that doesn't mean you can't make them move! You're amazing! You can do it! A master alchemist like you can totally create a sword that moves by itself, no sword spirit needed! You just have to believe in your own alchemy!"
"You're the greatest alchemist! The omnipotent ruler of the alchemy world! The undisputed king of alchemy!" Pandero shouted, piling on the flattery while taking advantage of Ian's brief distraction to yank one leg free.
It worked. Ian loosened his grip, because what Pandero said did make a bit of sense. Clearly, the flattery had hit its mark perfectly. Absolutely spot-on.
If he hadn't been a king, Pandero could have made an excellent courtier, or at least, he certainly understood the art of flattery, knowing exactly what to say to please the other person. After all, Pandero had once been surrounded by such people himself.
The ancient King of Britain simply never expected that one day, he would stoop to such a state. Once upon a time, he'd looked down on people like this the most.
Sigh.
When Ian finally released him, Pandero felt deeply ashamed. But despite that, he couldn't suppress the overwhelming relief and joy in his heart. In a blur of motion, he rolled, crawled, and scrambled as far away from Ian as he could.
He tumbled over himself, arms and legs flailing, with an almost animalistic instinct. Honestly, it was a bit too dramatic.
Since Ian had already let go, it clearly meant he wasn't insisting on his previous idea. Indeed, Ian admitted that Pandero's suggestion had merit. Plus, the knight's slippery, panicked nature made it impossible to keep him restrained anyway. So, Ian began to think of something new.
Make the memories move?
Not impossible.
But it would require a vessel.
Stealing or cleansing other souls would be far too evil, so Ian decided he'd have to create one himself. Building a vessel for a memory wasn't beyond his capability. It didn't need to be perfect. It didn't even need to replicate a soul. He just needed to create a simple framework of thought, something capable of holding and using the memories. That would be enough.
"At the very least, it'd have to be an artificial mind, maybe at an artificial idiot level of intelligence," Ian muttered to himself.
For some reason, he suddenly thought of Ravenclaw's door knocker. That talking door knocker always asked strange, philosophical questions, almost as if it had a mind of its own. Ian's eyes gleamed with a sudden flash of insight.
Perhaps he had brought the door knocker back in time for this very purpose, to study its peculiar design? But if that were true, why had his future self chosen to leave it in the past afterward? Ian doubted he'd ever do something that would strip the Ravenclaw House of its unique character.
"What a mess," he sighed, rising to his feet.
He dispersed his magical flames and carefully stored away his newly forged work. Then, glancing up at the sky, he began walking toward Pandero.
"Huff… huff… huff…" Pandero lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, his ghostly armor covered in bits of grass. He had just started to smile in relief when Ian suddenly appeared beside him, and reached out his hand.
"What now?"
Pandero instinctively tensed, ready to bolt. The trauma was understandable.
But Ian didn't attack. Instead, he looked at him calmly and said, with perfect seriousness,
"Your swordsmanship memories?"
That was what Pandero had promised him earlier.
"Oh, oh!"
Pandero froze for a moment, then exhaled in deep relief. Without hesitation, he raised his hand and, under Ian's dumbfounded stare, performed an absolutely shocking act.
Before Ian's eyes, Pandero plunged his fingers into his own temple, digging straight into his head. Then, with a sharp pull, he drew out a glowing strand of silver memory.
No blood, only swirling silver light. The memory shone like a flowing ribbon, gleaming faintly in his grasp. Ian was genuinely stunned, he never imagined Pandero could pull off something so wild. Truly, lack of a physical body didn't mean lack of disturbing means. This brutal method of memory extraction… Ian couldn't tell whether Pandero had learned it while alive or only after death.
"You're something else!" Ian gave Pandero a big thumbs-up.
Under Pandero's puzzled gaze, his ghostly eyebrow twitching in confusion, Ian took out a small container meant for storing memories and carefully placed the extracted swordsmanship memory inside.
Ian had timed everything perfectly. The moment he finished sealing the memory, his body began to fade, it was time for the Twilight Zone to end. Although some mysteries still lingered, Ian had at least managed to sort out many things during this illusion. His figure dissolved like a sand painting scattered by the evening wind, vanishing from sight.
As for Pandero, watching Ian disappear, he finally relaxed completely. That lingering sense of dread was gone. It felt like having just survived a great battle for his life.
"Finally got rid of that guy!" Pandero exhaled, his face a mix of exhaustion and relief. The grassland fell into a brief silence. He let out a long sigh and sprawled flat on his back, limbs spread in all directions.
Then, a pair of small leather boots entered his field of vision.
Opening his eyes, Pandero saw Ariana standing there, looking down at him with curiosity.
"What is it?" Pandero's tone softened again.
Ariana blinked and asked innocently, "Why can't I just fuse your memories directly? Wouldn't that save me from having to practice so hard?" Her voice carried a touch of naïve sincerity.
"You've definitely been corrupted by that lazy brat!" Pandero immediately accused Ian with full conviction. "Yes! His laziness is contagious, spreading like a plague!"
"I've been infected by it too!" he added dramatically, still sprawled on the grass like a content octopus.
The night breeze rustled across the field, bringing with it the faint fragrance of distant flowers. Ariana giggled softly, stood up, and didn't press him further. She resumed her sword practice. Moonlight outlined her figure in a silver glow.
Pandero gazed up at the slowly emerging stars above.
"To order others around… to desire reward without effort, that's a way of thinking fit only for a king," he murmured suddenly, almost as if responding to Ariana's earlier question. His tone carried a trace of melancholy, and something quietly complex.
"Huh?" Ariana hadn't caught his words.
"Nothing," Pandero said with a faint smile.
"We all have to play our own roles, after all."
The girl tilted her head, a little puzzled, but still nodded and continued practicing her swordsmanship.
Under the vast night sky, the small town lay silent and serene.
(End of Chapter)
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