Chapter 788
Champion
Chapter 788 Champion
—Are the puppets just tools?
Upon hearing this, several judges instinctively looked at Wade.
Despite the significant age difference between the boy and the judges, once Vader demonstrated knowledge and abilities commensurate with his seat, the judges began to regard him as an alchemist on their level.
In Vader's hands, the puppets displayed a variety of personalities and hobbies, and even those that died after only a few minutes of appearance were as vivid as real people.
Mordisi Graves, however, molded the puppet into a cold, lifeless tool, as if it had no self-awareness whatsoever, possessing only absolute obedience, and even ignoring the harm it suffered…
This alchemical philosophy is undoubtedly contrary to that of Vader Grey, the father of the puppet.
To be honest, a puppet that is as lively as a real person is frightening; but this kind of puppet has the appearance of a living being but the stiffness of a non-living being, and it is even more creepy when it stands silently in front of you.
Under the subtle gazes of the crowd, Wade remained silent for a moment, then smiled slightly:
"Are puppets just tools? That statement... isn't entirely wrong."
Graves, whose expression was tense, seemed somewhat surprised upon hearing this, and he looked at Wade with a hint of astonishment.
“If you don’t infuse it with thought, then the puppet is just a sculpture made of various materials, no different from a shovel or a hammer.”
Wade continued, “But if you give it thought in order to improve its judgment and intelligence, then no matter how carefully you restrict its consciousness, a faint flame will still be born on barren soil.”
Graves blinked and said, "If fire is going to start, I'll just spray more water. If that's not enough, I'll cover it with sand, or shovel away the dry grass that's letting the flames burn, wouldn't that solve the problem?"
Wade leaned back, his smile deepening, but his eyes held a cold sharpness.
“A very interesting idea, Mr. Graves. But have you ever considered that thoughts are intangible and cannot be quantified?”
“You can use your status as a master to suppress, use rules to bind, and drive people like slaves… but life will always find its own way.”
"And by then..."
He rested his elbows on the table, leaned slightly forward, and looked directly at Graves, as if he could see right through him, and said:
"Have you ever considered that all the harm and pain you inflict on the puppet might become a more twisted and darker fuel?"
Modish Graves looked directly at Wade, his slightly widened eyes revealing a childlike innocence and naivety.
“You remind me of my cousin, Mr. Gray.”
Graves said slowly, "He's just three years old, very interesting. He always thinks everything is alive, and he often speaks in a very strange way—"
"If I take a bite out of an apple, will it hurt?"
"Cars parked on the road are, in his eyes, cars that are tired and want to sleep."
“If a car is parked on the side of the road for a long time, he will worry that the car is sick and ask his mother to go to the doctor.”
The red-haired man paused, then chuckled cryptically, his gaze towards Wade carrying an unconscious air of superiority, as if he regarded the man before him as his naive little cousin.
He emphasized, “Puppets are just tools, Mr. Gray. Of course, I can understand your feelings of treating them like your own children, but… puppets don’t have real thoughts, just like cars only break down, but don’t get tired or sick.”
"is it?"
Wade glanced at the werewolf that wasn't fully formed yet and said calmly, "Then let's wait and see."
"Haha, it's obvious that your alchemical philosophies are different, isn't it?"
Gilbert Fontana chuckled and said, "But that's precisely the purpose of holding an alchemy competition! To let different ideas collide and merge, ultimately giving birth to even more perfect works!"
At this point, Professor Morrie spoke up: "While Mr. Graves's work is excellent, as alchemists, we still need to take the potential dangers of alchemical creations more seriously. Throughout history, there has never been a shortage of disasters caused by neglecting the internal balance of creations."
Ms. Piqueli nodded slowly and said, "That's right. Power must be matched with controllability. Nobody wants the history of Dementors to repeat itself."
Professor Abdullah echoed, "We cannot be complacent; you need to be fully aware of the potentially serious consequences this could have."
Graves stood in front of the judges' panel, silent, his face so dark it looked like it was about to drip water.
Then he heard Silas Hawthorne laugh and say:
"Haha... While caution is a good thing, don't scare the newcomers in our line of work. Dementors don't just appear out of nowhere."
He smiled, his eyes narrowing, and looked at the tall, imposing contestant, saying in a friendly tone:
"I have no interest in how Mr. Graves treats the puppets he creates. But I would like to ask a question..."
He paused for a moment, and Graves, far from feeling warmer at his smile, immediately became wary.
"Mr. Graves, is this werewolf puppet... truly your own creation?"
Silas Hawthorne's smile vanished, replaced by a sharp look in his eyes as he asked.
Graves frowned slightly and said cautiously, "I think no one but Mr. Graves would dare to say that the puppet is entirely their own creation... In the process of making it, I naturally also referred to Mr. Graves' puppets."
"Oh?" Silas smiled again. "If that's the case, then that's really strange—why can't I sense any importance or appreciation from you for your work? You put so much effort into creating it, yet you look at it like it's garbage. Isn't that strange?"
The judges nodded silently.
As alchemists, we all know how alchemists treat their creations, especially when they have just been created. They treat their creations with the utmost care, like caring for an infant, and do not allow even the closest people to touch them without permission.
"Value? Cherish?"
Graves repeated the two words softly, as if savoring some unfamiliar concept, before shaking his head.
“Mr. Hawthorne, I believe that as long as the right technology is applied, objects will be created without the need for excessive emotional attachment to creation.”
His gaze swept over the werewolf puppet that had remained standing silently to the side, and he said:
“I poured a great deal of time, knowledge, and magic into building it, ensuring that every rune was accurate and that the performance of every material was maximized. This pile of metal and magical materials eventually turned into a golem, which is the inevitable result of everything I put in.”
"And it will execute my commands efficiently and reliably. That is the value of the puppet. Emotions are the enemy of efficiency and safety."
"It would be extremely foolish to treat a puppet as a partner or family member simply because it can talk—it will naturally lose its value when it is unable to complete its mission or when a better solution emerges."
"When the time comes, I will dismantle the useless parts, recycle the valuable parts, and invest them in the next work. That is how I truly 'cherish' all my previous investments."
As soon as the words were spoken, this cold yet self-consistent logic left Silas Hawthorne speechless for a moment. He felt there was some truth to it, but he couldn't genuinely accept this cold-blooded philosophy of creation. "Cough cough cough!"
Fontana coughed a few times and said, "Alright, let's put the argument to rest and score our last contestant... Mr. Graves, please return to your seat."
Graves nodded and turned to walk back. A moment later, the puppet, which had been staring straight ahead, turned around and followed Graves.
……
The judges frowned, did not discuss among themselves, and after a long while, they wrote down their scores on the paper one after another.
At the same time, on the display board that had been imbued with the Connection Spell, the judges' scores appeared simultaneously below Mordisis Graves' name—
Clarence Abdullah: 8 points.
Wade Gray: 9 points.
Terence Morey: 7 points.
Gilbert Fontana: 8 points.
Serafina Piqueli: 7 points.
Silas Hawthorne: 8 points.
A series of high scores propelled Graves to the top of the competition, while most of the other contestants hovered between 3 and 6 points, with only a few occasionally scoring 7.
William Harris was already standing on the platform, and upon seeing the score, he shouted at the top of his lungs:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the highest honor in this year's Alchemy Competition has been chosen. He is none other than Mordisi Graves!"
Amid applause, Harris, with a radiant smile, exclaimed, "Let me congratulate Mr. Graves! His work has undoubtedly reached a new level in terms of technology for combating extreme environments! It demonstrates the ultimate resilience that alchemy can bestow upon creation..."
Amidst the enthusiastic congratulations, Mori's face darkened. He glared at Fontana beside him and asked through gritted teeth, "8 points?"
“There’s nothing we can do,” Fontana said helplessly. “The scoring criteria were developed through our collective discussion in the past, and none of them say that points should be deducted for creators who do not cherish their work.”
"Deduct one point for completion! Deduct one point for safety! Deduct another point for failing to flexibly avoid harm!"
"If necessary, I can deduct zero points from his score! — Why can't you deduct a few more?" Morrie said angrily.
"This one……"
Faced with Morrie's questioning, Fontana glanced around at his left and right, and stammered:
“I gave Carl Kleist a 6 before! Graves’ work is so well done, it wouldn’t be right to give it a low score… And why are you only talking about me? There’s another one here with a 9!”
Professor Murray turned his gaze to his beloved student and said with heartache:
"What can Wade do? If he doesn't show his sportsmanship, he'll likely be seen as narrow-minded, and no matter how dissatisfied he is, he can only give a passable score..."
"But Wade, 9 points is really too high. You could have been a bit stricter... Sigh, being too good-natured is a disadvantage..."
Wade: "...?"
Although his reason for giving a score of 9 was different from what Professor Mori had thought, at this moment, Wade naturally wouldn't undermine his professor, but simply showed a smile that was both helpless and carefree.
Fontana's forehead veins bulged.
—If your students give you a near-perfect score, there's nothing you can do about it, but if I give you an 8, am I committing a heinous crime?
Having known each other for decades, this was the first time he had ever discovered that Mori was such a hypocrite.
……
On the platform, Harris raised his arm and said:
"...Similarly, let's give a warm round of applause to all the participants who have contributed wonderful works! Their wisdom and hard work deserve our respect as well!"
Applause erupted again in the hall, even more enthusiastic than before, for the joy the contestants had brought to everyone.
After William Harris declared the competition over, he immediately jumped off the platform and then almost jogged away down the other side of the steps, as if trying to get rid of a hot potato.
The Alchemy Tournament was one of the most boring and longest tournaments he had ever commentated on; William Harris felt uncomfortable spending even a second longer on it.
Meanwhile, the other contestants tidied up their workbenches with complicated expressions, waving their wands as various tools bounced back into their boxes, eventually turning into a small suitcase.
—This kind of box is practically standard equipment for alchemists.
In addition, potion masters, herbalists, and astronomers who frequently observe the stars in the wild will apply to the Ministry of Magic, and their applications are usually approved.
But their boxes were basically just a few times larger than Scamander and Wade's boxes.
Meanwhile, another scene was unfolding—a dozen or so well-dressed male and female wizards quickly surrounded Graves, their faces beaming with either warm or elegant smiles, handing him their business cards and whispering among themselves.
Machione has amply demonstrated that maintaining a good working relationship with a skilled alchemist is no different from obtaining a treasure trove.
The alchemy workshop and the investors waving their cash all wanted to become the next Aslan Magic Workshop.
But the partnership between Marchionni and Wade Gray seemed unbreakable, so they had no choice but to settle for second best and extend an olive branch to Graves, who also appeared to be exceptionally talented:
“Mr. Graves, your work is truly amazing, and we at Blacksteel International are extremely interested in it…”
"Would you be interested in collaborating? Ah, I'm from the Italian Ministry of Magic. If you agree, funding and equipment will be no problem..."
"Sir, we represent the Special Equipment Division of the Accident and Disaster Management Department of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, and we would like to speak with you..."
Graves, now the center of attention, put on a seemingly harmless smile again, calmly dealing with the throngs of collaborators and accepting every business card offered to him.
Suddenly, the sounds around him ceased, and Graves looked up to see the chestnut-haired man holding a gold-plated business card between his fingers.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Graves,” the chestnut-haired man said in a smooth voice. “I am Aldridge Corbitt, from the Magical Congress Security Department!”
(End of this chapter)