The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 231
The magicians of this world had a particularly twisted nature.
To become perfect, to reach the end—they would do anything. Things that would horrify most people, they performed without hesitation. Turning innocent people into experimental subjects and leaving them worse than dead was common practice.
Such people, in pursuit of abandoning a broken world and seeking a new one, set their eyes on “heroes.”
“These ones are certainly sturdy.”
“Elder, what shall we do with this one?”
“He is the strongest among the monsters, perfectly suited as the core. Hey, place that one up there. I will personally work on it.”
“Yes, Elder.”
The court magicians carried out their experiments in Argio’s tomb, where the evil god had been sealed.
All the work previously hindered by ethical concerns was now completed easily—perhaps because of the chaotic state of the world, or perhaps because there was no one left to stop them from desecrating even the tomb of an evil god.
“The power here is thick, no doubt due to the seal on the evil god. Yes, this is good. A perfect place for us to inscribe a new history. If we use these monsters and the power of the evil god, perhaps even dragging the Creator God down into this land won’t be a mere dream...”
It was absurd.
“To bring God down to the earth?”
To kill the Creator and steal His power to create a new world? Instead of trying to fix or cultivate the land their souls were already rooted in, they wanted to abandon it and build another?
“Idiots.”
That could never be possible.
“What... what is this?!”
“Why is this happening?! What went wrong?!”
“N-No mistake! We succeeded in drawing down the Creator’s power!”
“Then why, why is this...?!”
Naturally, their attempt ended in failure.
The man trapped in the narrow, dark thorn prison did not know the exact circumstances.
But he could guess: the magicians failed to kill God, and because of that, the Creator abandoned the world. Using fragments of the Creator’s copied power, they attempted to construct a “new world”... only to give birth to a monstrous hell.
“That was always going to happen.”
Humans could never harm a god.
“They called us monsters so many times, they must have forgotten what materials they were using in the first place.”
Fools—such pitifully stupid creatures.
“Even though they were humans, not monsters...”
They were powerful enough not to be called human, but they were still human nonetheless. Any three-year-old would understand that a being born of the Creator cannot harm the Creator.
And above all—would the energy of the evil god, used as one of the ingredients, ever cooperate with the magicians?
“Of course not.”
Laughter—cold, mocking laughter—swelled toward the magicians through the pain, the screams, the wails. It wasn’t just the man’s own. All the other “ingredients” trapped with him in the thorny prison gave their best to ridicule the magicians.
“You’ve failed, you bastards!!”
“Ghh... heehee, kihihihihihik!!”
“Failures unworthy of even your names...!!”
“Die! Die! Just die already!!!”
Among blood, flesh, and the remnants of the evil god, the magicians gradually lost their sanity.
“You’re the one who came up with this plan in the first place, weren’t you, Elder?!”
“What?! Are you saying I was wrong?!”
“Yes! You were wrong! The world’s already been ruined beyond repair!!”
“How dare you insolent—!!”
“We should’ve prayed to the Creator instead of driving Him away!!”
“Get over here right now! I’ll tear your mouth open!!”
Within the jeers of the “ingredients,” the magicians began to kill each other. It was inevitable—they were the only ones left in the world. It seemed all humans beyond the Black Forest had long since perished.
Failures of a ruined world. Defeated wretches. They carried out horrific experiments only to leave the world even more broken than before. This miserable, disgraceful end suited them ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ perfectly.
“......”
“Urgh... ugh...”
“Blergh...”
Even the few who survived couldn’t endure the Black Forest’s poison and collapsed. It was absurd enough that one could hear those lofty magicians groaning and vomiting.
And so, all the magicians died.
“Gyaaah! Aaagh, urk, ugh...”
“Hrrguh...”
“Hack—kek—kuhuhk...!”
Only then did the “ingredients” locked in the thorny prison slowly begin to die.
“...Next time, when we meet again...”
“...In the arms of God...”
Those who should have died long ago were only able to pass on after a long while, once the magicians who had forcibly kept them alive were gone, and even the life-support systems had broken down. The stench of blood hung thick in the air.
“......”
And only the man remained.
“Why... why?”
Please, no.
“Aaaaagh... AAAAAAAAGH!!! AAAAAAARGH!!!”
Clunk, clunk-clunk―!!!
“Kill me, please...!!! Just kill me!!! It hurts, it hurts so much!!! Please!!!!”
What was the reason?
The elder magician’s words—saying he would use the man, the strongest hero, as the “core”—briefly passed through his mind, but even that thought was drowned in overwhelming rage, despair, and terror.
“Kkyaaaah!! AAAAAGH!! Cough, cough, kkghhhh...! Uu...!”
He convulsed in pain, screamed in terror at being alone, then sank into haze from exhaustion—over and over again. He had long since embraced death, yet the man could not die.
And for a time nearing eternity, he sank into darkness. Unable to think, flailing now and then like a bug with all its limbs torn off, occasionally regaining a sliver of mind—only to fall again into the void.
“......”
He no longer knew what he was saying, thinking, or feeling.
On some days, the boredom surpassed the pain and fear, and he tried counting the passing time. After reaching 742 years, 9 months, 3 days, 2 hours, and 19 seconds, he stopped counting.
“......”
Sometimes, hallucinations overtook him. He recalled days when he had lived like a human.
He felt resentment toward the “ingredients” who had all received the mercy of death except for him. He felt a loneliness worse than pain. Was he truly the only one left in the world?
Was no one else left?
And then.
“......?”
He heard something—like footsteps.
“...Ah, uh, uhh...”
He heard a voice, soft and coaxing.
‘Who is that?’
No, it didn’t matter.
It could be anyone. A human who survived that catastrophe. An expedition from a new era, born long after. Even descendants of beasts who could speak.
‘Please... please, just—’
If they would just see him.
“......”
“...Oh my.”
“......”
“You’re alive, are you?”
“...Uhh...”
“How pitiful.”
As if aware of his ragged breath, the voice outside the prison continued gently.
“Hey, calm down. I’ll get you out soon.”
At last, it was the end.
***
“...Ah...”
It was a long time after that when the man regained something resembling awareness for the first time.
“You’re awake?”
“...Y-You are...?”
“You look a bit more human now.”
“......”
His eyes—ah, his eyes.
He could see something in his vision.
“...A hug...”
“Do you need one? To make sure I’m not an illusion?”
“Please... just once... please, please...”
“You still seem frightened. It’s alright—I’m not a phantom.”
It had been so long since he saw anything that it stung. What ran down his cheeks wasn’t blood, but ordinary tears—it felt so strange, it was almost revolting. He couldn’t breathe. His hands and feet trembled.
The one he couldn’t even dare to look at approached with a voice rough and edged, yet his embrace was gentle. His touch was cool, but the hand patting his back was warm. The voice that comforted him was kind.
“Yes, it must have been frightening.”
“......”
A dazed feeling.
And just like that, he lost consciousness again.
***
Afterward, the man woke and passed out countless times.
By the time he realized this was the 182nd time, he finally understood something.
During all that time, the figure before him had continued to soothe him.
“......”
“......”
“Oh, heavens.”
A young man with bright red hair looked at him with a wide smile.
“So you can see me now, huh?”
“...Ah...”
The man gave a feeble nod.
“...H-How long was I...?”
“It’s been quite a while.”
“......”
“Well then, let’s see.”
The young man approached and extended his hand.
“May I take your hand?”
“...Yes.”
“Good. Give it to me.”
The cold temperature should have felt unusual, yet to the man, it felt familiar. Or perhaps, it had become familiar. He didn’t know how long this person had stayed by his side, so he simply sat blankly as the youth gently took his hand.
Then stroked it, pressed it firmly. He flinched a little, but soon calmed.
“See here—this is your palm.”
“...Yes.”
“These are your fingers, and this is your nail. One, two, three, four, five. Five total.”
Like teaching a newborn beast how to live, the young man continued softly and slowly.
“When I press here, do you see how it turns yellow and then red again?”
“...Yes.”
“It means your blood is flowing. Do you feel your bones, nerves, and veins reaching your fingertips?”
“...Yes.”
“You’re doing well. Very good.”
The youth repeated similar lessons.
“These are your feet. This is the sole. These little ones are your toes. Shorter than fingers, right? That’s normal, don’t worry—I’ve got the same.”
“......”
“Now, I’m touching the sole of your foot. How many do you think I’m pressing?”
“...Three?”
“Hmm, nice. Very good. Does it hurt when I press here?”
“No... it just... feels cool.”
“And here?”
“Same.”
“Good. Now, take my hand. Grab me with this hand and the other. Then press your feet to the ground. Don’t worry if you can’t stand yet—just lean on me.”
The youth lifted him up in one motion. As he staggered, he naturally leaned on the young man. Though slightly smaller, the youth stood firm like a tree rooted in the ground.
“Do you feel the cool, soft touch of the earth through the soles of your feet? Good. Now try pressing your toes into it. Start with the biggest, then the next, and the next, until the smallest.”
“......”
“Excellent.”
When that process was done, and the man stood on his own, the young man stepped back one pace.
“Good.”
“......”
“Now... can you see me?”
“...I can see you.”
He was a tall youth.
Someone whose gaze met his nearly eye to eye—he hadn’t seen someone like that in ages. No, in this situation, what hadn’t felt like ages?
His skin was pale, almost translucent, as if he’d never seen sunlight.
His thick, curly hair was tied in a long braid to one side. Around his neck, glittering ornaments of gold and jewel were densely layered.
He wore soft, flowing fabric and thick, fur-lined beast hide. And like the man, he was barefoot. A neck adorned with ornaments. Lips curled in a sharp smile. A nose. And—
“......”
Eyes infused with molten gold.
“...Yes. I can see you.”
“Splendid!”
The young man laughed.
“Welcome back to being human!”
The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l
