I dip my pen into the ink container, my UV sight activated, and take a steadying breath. Now, it's time to begin. And by begin, I mean trace.
After all, it's about working smarter, not harder. Why struggle when I can optimize the process with AI assistance?
"Sapphire, load the Sharpness enchantment blueprint," I command through my thoughts.
Thanks to my earlier efforts, I have already scanned every enchantment blueprint from the Enchantment Codex and even the most advanced inscriptions found in the upper floors of the Grand Library. Every single one is now stored within Sapphire's vast memory.
"Project an AR hologram of that enchantment for me."
In an instant, intricate Arcanum letters materialize before my eyes, hovering like ancient hieroglyphics woven from light. The glowing symbols shift and pulse with energy, forming a three-dimensional blueprint visible only to me.
I smirk, turning to Sophia. "Sophia, wanna place a bet?"
She narrows her eyes at me, suspicious. "Huh? Bet on what? What are you up to?"
"Well, how many Sharpness enchantments do you think I can place on this dagger?"
She chuckles, shaking her head. "One. Maybe two if you're really talented."
"What if I say I can do three?"
Sophia nearly chokes on her laughter. "Three!? No way! That's impossible! And stop talking, Jack! Once you start enchanting, you need absolute focus!"
I grin. "We'll see."
It isn't impossible—it's just insanely difficult.
Arcanum is the language of gods; its power of creation is literally limitless. However, enchanting isn't without its limitations. It is impossible to stack thousands of enchantments on a single item to make it overpowered, due to the limit of enchantment points. These points indicate the upper threshold of how much an item can be enchanted.
A Sharpness enchantment typically eats up eight to twenty points, varying with the enchanter's skill and the quality of the ink. Better skills and higher-quality ink reduce the number of points consumed.
This dagger has twenty-six points available. Theoretically, that means I could fit three Sharpness enchantments onto it—if and only if every single inscription is executed flawlessly.
There's no margin for error. Not even the smallest slip.
And under normal circumstances, that level of precision is humanly impossible.
Sophia's two Sharpness enchantments had already consumed twenty-four enchantment points—an exceptional result by human standards, very good.
Good… when viewing under human's standard.
But for someone with the most advanced AI helping him out secretly?
I refuse to settle for anything less than absolute perfection!
So, I drag the AR hologram over the dagger, arranging enough space for three Sharpness enchantments. There is a lot of space to write, so I don't have to stack any letters. I steady my hand, hold my breath, and heighten my focus to the max. Then, following the hologram's guidance, I trace the lines with ink.
The UV ink pulses with each completed letter, the first enchantment slowly taking form.
Sophia watches silently, her eyes following the movements of my pen.
However…
"AAAAAA! Darn it!!!"
The enchantment limit, if exceeded even by just one point, would instantly destroy the item!
The dagger glows, cracks, and then boom!
It explodes into tiny fragments, leaving only a smoking ruin where a perfectly fine weapon once lay.
Sophia bursts into laughter, her face brimming with smug satisfaction.
"Hahahaha!!! Three enchantments? I told you! It's humanly impossible!"
"But…"
I stare at the broken pieces, completely speechless.
I had done everything right—there were no errors in my strokes, no misalignment in the script. So how?
How did the enchantment consume nine points instead of eight?
Mathematically, there were twenty-six enchantment points available—enough for three Sharpness enchantments at eight points each.
So what went wrong?!
I can't wrap my head around it.
"Well," Sophia, still grinning with that I told you so expression, crosses her arms and begins her lecture. "A Sharpness enchantment taking up eight points? That's just a theory—nothing more than a hypothetical number calculated under the assumption that everything is done flawlessly."
She leans in slightly, her tone turning almost philosophical.
"But, Jack… there's no such thing as perfection. We are not gods. We are not flawless in every way. That's just the way things are."
"Hmmm…"
I hate to admit it, but her words make sense.
No matter how precise I am, no matter how much knowledge or technology I have, there's an undeniable truth—
A human can never compete with the gods.
Take a circle, for example.
A circle, in the eyes of a human, is nothing more than an illusion—an approximation formed by countless tiny straight lines. To craft a perfect enchantment is akin to drawing a perfect circle by hand. It is an unreachable ideal.
Which means an eight-point Sharpness enchantment was never truly possible to begin with.
With this realization, I find myself on the verge of accepting reality.
But then—
A spark ignites in my mind, an unseen flame roaring to life within my heart.
No.
"No, Sophia." I exhale, clenching my fist, the fire inside me growing brighter. "It's only humanly impossible. That doesn't mean it's actually impossible."
Sophia blinks, confusion flickering across her face. "What? I—I don't understand what you're saying…"
I meet her gaze, my voice steady, unwavering.
"Exactly what I said. It's only humanly impossible."
And what is a human?
And what is a god?
The man named Jack Saunders abandoned his humanity long ago.
To reach this world—
To even have the slimmest chance of finding her—
I had to transcend.
Physics. Biology. Computer science. Medicine. Engineering. There was no subject I did not master.
And time?
There was no second wasted.
I had to min-max my life to the point of not sleeping or resting even one second more than necessary, even food intake had to be optimized to the last micronutrients. And that was how I was able to achieve vast knowledge and become the best I could be.
But graduating from every higher education degree possible is just the beginning.
I remember the first time I had an AI chip implanted into my brain. It was a pain worse than death. Every second felt like my skull was about to crack. Simply thinking the most basic thoughts paralyzed my body.
Yet, I endured that torturing, soul shattering pain for three days and three nights. And not only that, I immediately jailbroke and overclocked the AI right afterward to slow down time so I could study even more.
In that state of constant temporal distortion, twenty years felt like a hundred.
A hundred years of pain.
A hundred years dancing on the edge of madness, always one step from the abyss, always pushing further.
But only because of that, I was able to replace my bones with titanium, cultivate microfibers into muscles, upgrade the AI into Sapphire.
And with Sapphire, I finally achieved the impossible.
I tracked the untrackable.
I broke the unbreakable.
I shattered the barrier between worlds.
So, was it possible for any human being on Earth to do all of that?
No.
But was I able to do it?
YES.
That proves the point!
Humanly impossible is not impossible!
I reach into my bag, pull out another dagger, and place it firmly on the table.
"Again."
The ink glows as I dip my pen.
"Sapphire, load the Sharpness enchantment blueprint."
…
Failed.
…
"Sapphire, load the Sharpness enchantment blueprint."
…
Failed.
…
…
"Sapphire, one more time, load the Sharpness enchantment blueprint!"
I command the AI for the tenth time. The past nine daggers are all failures. But I will not give up!
My UV vision activates, the ink glows once more beneath my fingertips.
Sophia watches in disbelief, exasperation clear in her voice.
"Huh? You're still trying? I told you, it's impossible!"
I don't respond. I don't even acknowledge her doubt.
She doesn't believe in me.
She thinks I'm insane.
That's fine.
I don't need anyone to believe in me in the first place.
Because I have never—never—relied on anyone else's validation.
As long as I believe in myself, that is enough.
And with that belief—
The key to perfection is already in my hands.
I take a deep breath, gripping my pen with unwavering resolve.
"Sophia, what is rule number one of speaking Arcanum?" I ask suddenly.
She blinks. "Huh? Why are you asking that now?"
"Just say it."
She sighs, rolling her eyes. "Fine. It's 'Arcanum has to be spoken with intention.'"
"Exactly."
Intention.
In this state of mind, I finally understand the true meaning of that rule.
Arcanum has to be spoken with intention.
And in this language, intention has many interpret able meanings.
It can be a command, it can be emotions, or it can even be… belief.
Believe that a fireball can be manifested out of thin air.
Believe that a blade can be sharp enough to slice through titanium and diamond.
And in this case…
BELIEVE THAT I AM NOT A HUMAN!
BUT A GOD!
And as a god— THERE CANNOT BE ANY IMPERFECTION!
——————————
[Steel dagger]
- Weapon Rating: 92 (up by 68)
- Weight: 512 grams
Attributes:
- Sharpness: 40
- Durability: 144/145
Special Ability:
- None
Enchantment:
- Sharpness + 10
- Sharpness + 10
- Sharpness + 10
Enchantment points: 2 (decreased by 24)
——————————
"WHAAAAAAAAT!?"
Sophia's gasp of pure, unfiltered shock echoes through the room. She stares at me, eyes wide, mouth agape—her entire soul looks like it just abandoned ship.
But… why stop here?
I grin and pull out a few more swords with 32 enchantment points each.
Flawless. Every. Single. Time.
"Jack… I can't believe anything anymore…"
Sophia slumps against the corner, hugging her knees, laughing softly—hysterically. Her eyes are distant, unfocused, as if her entire understanding of reality has just been rewritten.
"Perfect enchantments every time? Am I dreaming?"
"Told you," I say with a satisfied smirk. "Now you know that it's not impossible, you can do it too!"
Hearing that, Sophia lifts her head, blinking at me in utter disbelief. "Huh? I can… too?" she murmurs.
"Of course!" I assure her.
That seems to motivate her a bit.
Her expression flickers—first doubt, then curiosity, and finally, determination. She squares her shoulders, pushing herself up.
And so, she tries.
With my guidance, we work. One enchantment after another, pushing past every previous limitation. Over a hundred blank weapons, one by one, testing, learning, refining.
Then, at attempt 126—
"I DID IT!"
Sophia's voice bursts with exhilaration. She stares at the dagger in her hands, eyes shimmering, her breath caught between laughter and awe. "Jack, I DID IT!"
She holds it up—
- Sharpness + 10
- Sharpness + 9
- Sharpness + 9
Enchantment points: 0 (decreased by 26)
I chuckle, genuinely proud. "Congratulations."
Sophia clutches the dagger, her fingers trembling—not with fear, but excitement. She lifts it high, her face radiant with pure, uncontainable joy.
And at that moment—
For some reason—
The world around her seems to shine just a little brighter, and there's a weird feeling stirring inside my chest.