The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 233
His mind was so crammed with thoughts and stray emotions that it felt suffocating.
“...I... I thought you...”
At first, he had believed Gio was human.
But as time went on, he came to understand that wasn’t the case. Humans, on average, lived to about 50. Even the very fortunate ones rarely reached beyond a hundred. He had once wondered whether the new humanity might have longer lifespans—but that too proved unlikely.
What human could mold another person into a pulsing mass of meat and keep them alive for 281 years?
“...I remember... calling out to you.”
The memory had returned belatedly.
“I... I definitely... in that cramped prison...”
“You called for me.”
“I was terrified. The loneliness was unbearable, and the pain lasted so long that my mind blurred. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I didn’t want to be there anymore...”
“I’d say you endured more than enough.”
“......”
“Do you regret it?”
“......”
“You look like you might.”
The thought that he had summoned the evil god, once sealed away in a prison of blood and flesh, back into the world—it was horrifying. But at the same time, he was grateful. In the end, the only one who reached for him in response to his cries was this evil god.
He felt contradicting emotions, all at once.
“......”
Ather bit his lip, inhaled deeply, and asked:
“...Why do you take the form of a human?”
“Because I used to be one.”
“...You... Yes. That’s right...”
“There’s another reason as well.”
Argio was not whole.
“I... hmm. How should I put it?”
“......?”
“I’m not a complete piece.”
“...A complete piece?”
“I’ve gathered 99 out of 100.”
He hadn’t fully reintegrated.
“Over time, I’ve recovered quite a few pieces—but many are still missing. To be truthful, this isn’t my true form. Since I was ten, I’ve always lived as a beast. But I knew how to mimic a human...”
So the Argio they were seeing now was a form of mimicry. A manifestation shaped after the version of Argio most people of “that era” remembered. In the end, Gio was a portrait—he couldn’t help but take this form.
“So don’t worry. I’m not dangerous enough for you to be afraid. The most fundamental and crucial piece—I haven’t gotten it back.”
“...Where is that piece?”
“Beneath this tomb.”
“There’s a... below?”
“The magicians seemed to have done some rearranging when they used my power to build their fake world. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t ‘my’ power—more accurately, it belonged to the ‘Evil God Argio’...”
“Are the two that different?”
“I wouldn’t say they’re the same.”
The evil god had been a monster born from the piled-up hatred and resentment of countless saints. Whether or not Argio’s consciousness still lingered inside it, he couldn’t be called the same thing. Even as a portrait, the fury that burned within had only been subdued—not extinguished.
“To put it another way, my heart, limbs, and everything else were split into tens of thousands of fragments and stored separately.”
“...Why haven’t you taken them back?”
“Because I can’t.”
He looked at Ather with a gaze that said, Isn’t it obvious?
“You’re the ones who sealed me.”
“...Ah.”
Ather stood there, dumbstruck.
“......”
Then, belatedly, he asked:
“...Is the seal still... active?”
“Many lives were sacrificed to create it. Of course it’s still there. The magicians only tampered with its location and maintenance—they never truly broke the seal.”
“Then... what are you, standing before me now?”
“The last beast of the Black Forest.”
“...No.”
Ather’s hands clenched tightly.
“You were a saint.”
“Ah, come on. I really don’t like that word.”
Saint was a word suited to someone like Giovanni, who would guide lambs with meekness. Argio was better matched with labels like evil god, beast, monster. He symbolized unshackled fury and meaningful pain.
But Ather didn’t seem to agree. His expression darkened.
“......”
“Oh dear, are you blaming yourself now?”
Admirable.
“You think what you all did wasn’t justified?”
“...Why... why would you say such a thing... when you were the victim...”
“Only I can say it.”
“You hated us. You killed so many.”
“I did kill. But I didn’t hate you. At least, ‘I’ didn’t.”
It was the truth.
“I just wanted to be angry.”
“Then be angry. At me, at least.”
“But my anger isn’t directed at you. It’s meant for those who spat on me as a filthy beast, who burned the families of the Black Forest. Don’t try to push that shallow fury onto me.”
“......”
Ather’s face crumpled, his lips moving wordlessly several times.
“You look conflicted.”
It seemed he needed time. Gio began to rise to give him space when—
“...Wait, Argio.”
“What is it?”
“Please... I have a request...”
His brows were drawn tight. But his eyes showed resolve.
“Please... tell me your story.”
He had learned bits of truth from the records in the ruins—but they were only fragments. Far too little to understand, remember, and reflect on the stories of countless saints.
He wanted to hear Argio’s story.
“Tell me what kind of being you were.”
“That’s not ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) difficult.”
Gio tilted his head slightly.
“Can you believe it?”
“...I’ll do my utmost to judge.”
“...In that case...”
He was pleased.
“You’re human, after all.”
You carry weight.
***
“I was born into a prestigious family.”
Despite the forceful presence of his voice, the evil god spoke gently.
“Our role was to act as a shield, to keep the monsters of the Black Forest—those bringers of calamity—from spilling into the outside world. It was an honored duty. We were respected by the people.”
“...You were...”
“I was the youngest son. I had nimble hands and a favorable appearance, so I was quite doted on. Especially since I showed great artistic talent—dancing, painting, music...”
“...That doesn’t sound like the evil god I know.”
“You’re even joking now. I’m truly glad.”
He said he had once been loved.
“But in this family, a monster was always born each generation. That child would gradually take on a beast’s form—until they became an unspeakable demon. When that trait appeared, the family would lock the child in the Black Forest to prevent disaster.”
“Why? Just out of disgust?”
“Not entirely. Without doing so, the child could draw the Forest’s disaster into the world. The family believed that the Black Forest and beast-shaped humans were one and the same. So they continued that tradition.”
“But... weren’t you saints?”
“No one remembers that part anymore.”
The truth wasn’t that monsters caused the Black Forest’s disasters—but rather that saints were born to seal those disasters. Over time, people forgot this and only remembered: monsters must be cast into the Black Forest.
“I grew up in that Forest. And I learned a new meaning to my existence.”
“You must’ve been resentful.”
“More than anything, I found it laughable. What kind of faith did humans have, to behave like that? On some level, I even found them endearing—they were such weak things. Easy to break and ruin.”
“......”
“Well, after that...”
The one who called himself a beast now wore a soft expression.
“I made many families. Many friends.”
“...The beasts of the Forest?”
“Some of them.”
“There were others?”
“Those I brought in.”
“......”
Ather hesitated, then said it.
“You mean... the live offerings given to you.”
“That’s right. Hence the rumors I was a cannibal.”
“Why...”
“The more they feared me, the easier it was to do as I pleased. And more importantly, what would’ve been the point in arguing?”
Argio understood better than anyone how stubborn and irrational humans could be. Their arrogance was what made him a monster of the Forest. Even if he found that direction amusing, the bitterness never faded.
But there was no reason to try persuading them.
“So, why bother?”
And so, Argio lived like a beast.
“Eventually, as I continued doing as I pleased and people grew more terrified... the family made a move. They released a part of the Black Forest.”
“...I don’t understand.”
“You remember how my family had sealed the Forest’s disaster? They released the deepest part of it—the source of the Forest itself... the water.”
“Water...?”
“I called it the black water. People called it something else.”
“The world called it a plague.”
“...Wait.”
Ather was stunned.
“You’re saying that... wasn’t your doing?”
That horrific toxin, which rotted flesh and drove people mad, plunging the world into collapse—wasn’t the evil god’s work? That, too, had been humanity’s blunder?
“I thought it had at least come from the Forest... but how... why would it be in your family’s hands? Isn’t it supposed to be sealed away?”
“If you think back to the earliest saints, I think it was a matter of balance. One disaster sealed in the Forest, another entrusted to the family—sharing the burden.”
“Then why did your family release it into the world?”
“They didn’t think it was a disaster. They believed it was an ancient, sacred weapon passed down through generations—dangerous, yes, but venerable. They planned to use it to exterminate me.”
“......”
“They must’ve despised the sight of me.”
That a noble family could produce a beast-shaped demon was a closely guarded secret.
But the young monster had survived the Forest and wandered the world. They feared that one day he might speak and shame the family—or take revenge.
“Utter fools, weren’t they?”
In the end, they released the “weapon” in an attempt to kill Argio—and the result was the plague that destroyed the world. The family, even as they collapsed, kept their mouths shut until the end.
“And so, I became a demon who devoured humans alive, triggered countless disasters, and spread a plague that rotted children and elders alike.”
“...And that’s why...”
“They burned the Black Forest. I imagine you know this much—eventually, the court deployed their armies and closed in on all sides. I was burned with the Forest, suffered grievous wounds, and finally died in my family’s embrace.”
“...And that was the birth of the ‘Evil God Argio’? The brutal beast?”
“Seems you understand well.”
He smiled as if pleased.
“Curious why I didn’t flee from the fire?”
“...Were you incapable? But... according to the records...”
“I might have escaped.”
But he didn’t.
“Truth is—I don’t remember.”
“...What?”
“I think that reason is buried deep within my remaining pieces. Maybe I didn’t want to leave behind some treasure in the Forest. Or maybe I didn’t want to abandon my homeland. Or maybe... I just couldn’t escape in time.”
“...Or maybe... you were just tired.”
“That could be it. Maybe I thought that was the most fitting end for me.”
A monster, dying like a monster.
“...Well, that was my thinking...”
“Evil God Argio never hid his hatred of humanity.”
“That divine malice wasn’t created from me alone.”
“Yes... I understand.”
From then on, Ather understood.
“...You really didn’t hate us, did you?”
“At least, I had no reason to.”
“...Ha...”
He let out a hollow breath.
This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶
