The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 232
Even just reaching this point had taken a truly long time.
“...H-How long has it been...?”
“Hmm, let’s see. About 281 years?”
The sheer absurdity of that number made him want to blurt out, What on earth are you talking about?—but it wasn’t a lie.
To Sergio, once a normal art teacher, or to Giovanni, once a short-lived priest, this would have been incomprehensible. But Gio, whose present self bore the dominant persona of the evil god Argio, had spent that time with this man with little difficulty. It hadn’t felt particularly long or short to him.
Still, even for a being who had lived for centuries, dedicating time to help a single person was unfamiliar. But it made for a refreshingly pleasant experience.
“And then another 2 months and 21 days passed.”
“...Excuse me?”
“It sounds unbelievable, I know. But it’s the truth.”
More time than expected had been devoted to the man’s rehabilitation. But there was no real issue—whatever the court magicians had done while using Gio’s house as a lab had caused time to flow much faster in this place.
That’s why my house managed to endure through all those turbulent years.
Noting how dire the man’s condition was, Gio had made some adjustments.
While 281 years, 2 months, and 21 days had passed in this ruin, the Black Forest outside had seen just about 94 years—and on Earth, only three days had gone by.
Gio felt proud.
“It’s only because it was me that you woke up so quickly. If someone else had helped you, it would've taken another thousand years just to get this far.”
“Th-Thank you.”
“No need for thanks.”
If anything, Gio was the one who felt gratitude—toward this man who had returned to being “human.”
There were moments when I seriously considered giving up on him.
Fortunately, whether it was due to the man’s sheer will to live, a conviction tied to something greater, or simply his innately strong spirit, he had followed Gio’s guidance all the way here.
He did beg to be killed more than once...
Though, he likely remembered none of that.
“......”
Maybe he’d even forgotten calling out to me.
A shame.
If his condition had been better, Gio might’ve immediately whisked him away as a companion. But even as the evil god Argio, he didn’t have the heart to pull such a vicious scheme on someone so mentally shattered.
For now, he had succeeded in turning the man back into a person. The next step was to fatten him up, like a pig.
And to turn a person into a pig, a minimum level of trust was required.
“Say, would it be alright if I asked you a few things?”
“...Ah, of course.”
“I’d like to know your name.”
“...My name...”
“You don’t remember?”
“...No, I do. I remember.”
His speech was a little rough, perhaps from disuse, but he answered properly. It was nothing short of a miracle.
“Ather. My name is Ather.”
“A fine name.”
“Ah” stood for steadfastness, and “ther” represented righteous belief. He didn’t know who had given it to him, but it was clearly a name crafted with care—perhaps even love and faith.
But I’m not close enough to ask about his family.
Just as he thought that, the man asked a question.
“May I know your name?”
“Hmm, yes. You may call me Gio.”
“...Pardon?”
“Gio.”
“That’s... a bit...”
“Haha!”
It seemed the name “Gio” sounded odd to Ather as well.
“Then call me whatever you like.”
“No, I don’t think I can just call you anything.”
“Apologies, but I have no real name.”
Ather pressed his lips shut.
“......”
“What’s with that look?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve done nothing to apologize for. You look like someone who’d say anything, yet you're unexpectedly delicate. Another reminder not to judge by appearances?”
“Would I really curse at my savior?”
“Oh, marvelous. How admirable.”
Gio’s first impression of Ather after shaping him back into something vaguely human was that he would be a sharp-tongued man.
Those sharp eyes, the firm lips. He had the aura of someone who would shout No even if a blade was at his throat, someone whose beliefs could not be shaken.
Likely the sort to twist his own fate by his own hand.
Seems I was right.
Maybe I should’ve majored in physiognomy.
Even in this state, he can still speak like that. That’s not normal.
All Gio had done was reshape the man into human form.
For Ather, the memories of those hundreds—or perhaps thousands—of years in that narrow prison must still linger. Yet the fact that he could already hold conversation this smoothly was entirely thanks to his own strength.
He was certainly not an ordinary person.
“......”
And the evil divine being vaguely remembered this face.
...Was he among the leading heroes...?
A sincere human, one who would shout with burning intensity yet still care for his comrades. A hero that Argio had taken notice of—and once fought.
Gio had recalled it around year 31 of Ather’s rehabilitation.
Anyway, that aside...
He looked directly at Ather.
“......”
“...E-Even if you look at me like that, no is still no. How could anyone call another person a beast?”
“I really should’ve studied physiognomy.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s see...”
Gio examined the man’s state.
“You must be hungry.”
“...Ah.”
Ather blinked as if the thought had never crossed his mind.
“...Yes, of course. A meal...”
“You need one. You’re human, after all.”
“......”
“Does the thought make you uneasy?”
“...No, not at all.”
“Wonderful!”
Now that was a miracle.
Considering how long it had been since food entered his stomach—long enough for mold to grow—it was incredible that he felt no repulsion. His mental fortitude was truly impressive.
“If you really couldn’t handle it, I had other methods in mind.”
He briefly considered nutrient injections, but after all Ather had been through, Gio doubted he’d be okay with needles. He could also have channeled his energy directly into him—like he had done for 281 years.
Still, no matter how effective an IV might be, nothing truly replaces the feeling of a full stomach.
“I’ve been managing your body quite well all this time. Even if your stomach is technically empty, nothing should go wrong regardless of what you eat. If anything comes to mind, tell me.”
“...Can you actually make what I ask for? Or—has the world changed since I was imprisoned? Those bastards did say... the world had fallen.”
“Ah, no worries. It’s truly and thoroughly ruined.”
“......”
Ather groaned, looking incredulous.
“...Before the magicians died, they said the world was shrinking, collapsing. Could I ask... what the current world is like?”
“Of course.”
Gio hadn’t just spent time tending to Ather while staying in the “Kingdom of Beasts.”
“Are you aware of the fake world the court magicians created?”
“...You mean that imitation world? The second surface above the surface?”
“So you do know.”
“I overheard the magicians talking while I was imprisoned. I couldn’t remember much when my mind was hazy, but when I was lucid... I memorized as much as I could, hoping to find a way out.”
“Amazing.”
To be imprisoned in such a hellish place and still hold onto the will to say Just wait, you bastards...—that resolve explained his unusually fast recovery.
“Anyway, in that false world...”
“Yes?”
“A new civilization has risen.”
“...Ah...”
“You look like you expected that?”
“...Not exactly expected. It was more like... I imagined it.”
What could Ather have done in that narrow prison all those years?
“With so much time, all I could do was dream, hallucinate... or think deeply. And yes, I sometimes imagined: What might the world outside this ruin be like now?”
He laughed bitterly.
“I even wondered if everyone might’ve died...”
“Do you resent them?”
“Resent who?”
“The civilization above. For not saving you sooner.”
“...A little.”
Ather hesitated before continuing.
“But it’s not their fault. If a new civilization now exists above, then the world we once lived in became the ‘underground’—the fake. That would mean our history was likely erased. The ruin's existence forgotten, too.”
“Good deduction. Let me add something.”
“Please do.”
“This new civilization hasn’t been around as long as you think. About 19 years.”
While residing in the ruins, Gio had occasionally ventured out to assist the survival of beast-people.
With Gio’s help, the beasts managed to build a world, and their civilization hadn’t existed for long—only 19 years since stabilization.
“Before that, they still lived in the Black Forest.”
“...How could people live there? Even those mighty court magicians couldn’t survive it...”
“Sorry, but the people you’re thinking of are more beast than human.”
“Ah. Ahh. Aaaaah...”
Ather grabbed his head in disbelief.
“...Ugh...”
“Hey now, are you okay? Is this a ‘soothe-him-again’ kind of moment?”
“...No need to worry... I’m not having a seizure...”
“Poor soul.”
For an old-world human, learning that beast-people had replaced humanity as the new dominant species was understandably painful. Sergio could empathize—he had once gone mad too.
I remember losing my mind when I first saw that fire-breathing office worker.
Maybe this is how elderly people feel when the world moves on without them.
But this man... he must feel it even more deeply.
At least Sergio still looked the same. Ather had to witness his former enemies become the new humans. It must’ve been crushing.
After some time, still shaking from the revelation, Ather asked:
“Th-Then... what level of civilization is it? Is it like the one I remember?”
“Hmm... I’d say it’s a bit more advanced than what you knew.”
Turning a false world into a real one had only been possible with Argio’s help.
His preferences had shaped much of it. Likely it was more developed than the world Ather had lived in, especially since that had been wartime.
That was the era of total war, wasn’t it?
Back when everything was stripped away for the sake of survival. Now the world had been pulled back to the golden era before that. It would surely feel unfamiliar.
“So—feel free to name anything you’d like to eat.”
“...How could such a civilization rise in just 19 years?”
“No, reconstruction began 94 years ago. What they did wasn’t building from scratch—it was truly rebuilding. So naturally, it didn’t take as long. The 19 years I mentioned is how long it’s been since things stabilized.”
“So they mimicked pre-war civilization. I don’t know if it fits their standards, but I suppose they adapted. Then...”
“Meal?”
“...Why are you so obsessed with meals?”
“People need to eat.”
“Well, that’s not wrong, but...”
“......”
“......”
At the sudden silence, Gio gave his usual light laugh.
“You have the look of someone with something to say. I’ll hear you out personally, so go ahead.”
“...No, I just...”
“What is it that frightens you so?”
“...I...”
Ather hesitated, then said:
“...Gio.”
“Yes.”
“......”
His lips moved, but no words came out. His tongue froze with uncertainty.
Is this something I can even say aloud? In a daze, he pondered, but lifted his gaze to study the young man’s face.
He looked noble. Covered in jewels. Dressed in clothes of unknown origin, both wild and graceful. And—he radiated strength.
But.
“......”
How could such a person exist in this place, in this time, in this world?
And even more—how could anyone care for just me, for nearly 300 years?
No. That wasn’t something any human could do. Not even if this person was a newly evolved species—human limits should still exist.
But he had far surpassed them.
When he lowered his gaze, he saw the flowing robes, the ornaments heavy with metal. Those bare feet, standing so smoothly in a labyrinth riddled with curses and traps.
“......”
Were there even any humans left? Any like him, in the same form?
Thinking back to what he had said—it didn’t seem likely.
He spoke of history from a perspective beyond that of any human, as though it were natural, without a trace ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) of doubt...
Ather knew what kind of concept, what kind of being, this was.
Finally, he called out the name of the being who stood before him, wearing the polite form of a young man.
“...Ar... gio.”
“Splendid.”
“...Ah...”
It was real.
Ather stared blankly at the evil god for a long time, then bit down on his cracked lips—and wept.
“......”
It was the face of someone who no longer even knew why he was crying.
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