Blind Sculptor's

The Unveiling

Damian’s arrogance boiled over. He lunged, intending to shove the blind sculptor aside and claim the crude bust as a trophy of his contempt. But Noah’s calloused hand moved with the speed of a striking viper, his fingers locking around Damian’s wrist in an unyielding grip. The force of the unexpected counter sent Damian’s gold signet ring digging into the dried clay of the bust with a loud, crunchy scrape. The pain was sharp, but the shock was greater. This was no ordinary old man.

Noah spoke with deep, resonant calm: "Touch with reverence, Knox—your eyes see only dirt, but the truth will blind you."

Damian’s arrogant smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of stunned outrage. His pupils dilated as he felt the unyielding strength in Noah’s grip. He was trapped, his carefully constructed facade crumbling. The dried clay around his ring began to fracture, spiderwebbing outward under the sudden pressure. It wasn’t just cracking; it felt like something was building within, an immense internal force.

Then, with a series of hollow thuds, thick chunks of the hardened earth began to shear off, falling onto the marble pedestal. As the outer layer crumbled, an impossible light began to emanate from within the bust. It wasn’t the warm glow of lamplight or the sparkle of jewels; it was a piercing, prismatic ray of cyan-white luminescence that suddenly shot outward, directly blinding the camera lens, filling the opulent ballroom with an otherworldly glare. The murmurs ceased, replaced by a collective, stunned silence.

Damian Knox spoke with a breathless, stammering gasp: "What... what impossible refraction is that?!"

Noah’s breath remained slow and even, a faint, knowing smirk etching the deep wrinkles around his lips. The ballroom, moments before filled with the cacophony of high society, was now dead silent, all eyes fixed on the inexplicable light erupting from a lump of mud.