The Artist Who Paints Dungeon - Chapter 55

Way, way, and very way before I was even born, my world was invaded. Actually, not just my world, my entire damn universe was overrun by another, led by a single race that called themselves the Eternals.And they were prepared. Very prepared. Every life we lost in the war against them was used by them. They didn’t just kill people, they captured their souls, forged them into Phantoms, and used the souls to twist beasts into Abominations. Our dead became their army.Three hundred years later, I was born. A guy with way too much energy. Sitting still? Impossible. Taking it slow? Not happening. I was always moving, always ready to burst into action. Then I awakened, and got a talent too.My Talent's Name Was Generator.Because of it I never ran out of energy. Ever. My muscles? Supercharged. My healing? Faster. My stamina? Please, I had no idea what being tired even felt like.So if the universe wanted to throw an endless war at me?Fine. I’d throw everything I had right back.I wasn’t born a hero. Never wanted to be one. But this war? It wasn’t just my universe’s fight anymore. It was mine. The Eternals made sure of that when they took my parents' souls.

“So, Diana, what's your excuse for betraying me?”

His amber glinted eyes bore into the woman with bloodied, broken blue hair, kneeling in complete disarray.

“... you're evil.”

“Oh, so, looking out for all of you makes me evil?”

The man narrowed his eyes, contemplating the echoes of protagonist halos and heroines' mentality, starkly real now.

Coming from a world far removed from such grim reality, he had read about these personalities in novels, but experiencing their shortcomings firsthand was a different story.

“How am I evil?”

He looked down at his foot where a young man, limbless and crushed, lay in a state of complete brokenness, mustering the little strength he had left to utter some words.

“... y.. you ba..stard, You killed millions.”

Hearing these words, the man's internal amusement grew at the absurdity of these hypocritical people.

He had eradicated all the evil organizations within the Empire after ascending to his throne.

Wars were waged to crush rebellious kingdoms that stood against his Empire, uniting the entire Heidal Continent under one flag—the Selvius Empire.

He shifted his gaze towards another woman with pink hair, her body completely broken, supported by a rock to maintain a semblance of balance amidst the devastation.

“Hmm, so what about you, Karina? Wasn't your family about to be executed by the Aidiac Royal family? Is it wrong for me to have intervened?”

“You killed them without mercy, and although you saved my family, it was not worth it.”

“I just saved—”

“It's bullshit. You could have solved everything peacefully without drawing so much blood.”

Hearing all this, the man began to understand why those novels depicted these people as hypocritical and low in intelligence.

If he hadn't saved them, they would have suffered the most gruesome fate.

Yet, despite being saved, these ungrateful individuals chose to blame him. The bitter irony of their ingratitude gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Guess you all have the same reasons.”

The man looked towards the seven people, their disdainful gazes directed at him.

He had only aimed to change their fates, to rescue some from slavery, others from crippling circumstances, and a few from inevitable betrayal.

Yet, they all blamed him for saving them, unable to comprehend that he had severed the root causes that would have subjected them to excruciating suffering.

“Hahaha.”

“Indeed, now I see.”

He now understood what those novels had tried to convey—'these idiots think this whole world works like they think it would.'

'System.........

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