The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 101

Stumbling...

He barely managed to get his body, which didn’t respond, to stand up.

"What the hell...?"

Park Eun-Gyeom, a first-class citizen and a B-grade hunter, looked around.

"...Is this a dungeon?"

Although he couldn’t be said to have little experience as a hunter, there was a reason he was asking such a simple and foolish question.

"Is there such a dungeon?"

It was all in monochrome.

Bright white. Black as if from the abyss. Light gray. A slightly darker gray. Almost black gray.

Gray, close to white. Gray, shiny like glass. Gray, wavering as if it were alive. Gray. Gray.

The man was in the middle of a gray city.

"......"

It felt as though his lungs were stuffed with cotton, and his breath was choked. Unknowingly, he felt his chest.

He knew logically that there was no physical abnormality, but no, it wasn’t a cold feeling. This was...

"...W-what is this...."

A chilling sense of weakness. He couldn’t apply any strength anywhere. It felt like the muscles in his entire body had disappeared.

"Where is this?"

It felt as though even the organ known as the lungs had disappeared. Even though he was speaking, it was as if his tongue was gone, and he couldn’t tell if his vocal cords were vibrating or not. He couldn’t even hear his own voice.

"...What the hell..."

This emptiness, which felt so out of place, slowly started to invade his whole body. It was as if someone were whispering next to his ear, "This is how it should be," a natural change.

He began gasping for breath as if he were about to die, and it seemed like his airways had disappeared. His heart, which had been pounding, was eerily quiet, unable to comprehend this strange fear.

Even the warmth from the tips of his fingers was fading away.

"Unbelievable, no, no..."

The man stumbled and quickly looked around with his eyes.

Gray here. Gray there. Gray to the left. Gray to the right.

The buildings were boring and simple rectangles, made either with the emotional curves unique to Seoul or stretched out very long or extremely short.

"Made?"

Who made this?

"This... this is a dungeon. Yeah, it's a dungeon."

But something was strange. Too much was empty.

This damn gray city looked filthy and vast, and the buildings were numerous, yet there was no trace of life anywhere. Which dungeon in the world could be this quiet?

"Not even an enemy can be felt."

He thought the fear would come from monsters rushing to kill him, but no, it wasn’t that. The real terror was that this endless dungeon, with no visible end, just stared at him without doing anything.

It simply stared at him.

"......"

It’s scary.

Scary?

Is it scary?

"...I can’t even tell if it's fear...."

At first, it was just the breath he exhaled.

Then it was the warmth spreading from his organs, connected to his lungs. After that came the emotions.

"Ugh, ugh...."

Where was it after that?

Gradually, the presence of 'Park Eun-Gyeom' was fading away.

"...Ugh!"

The man quickly shook his head and massaged his hands.

"Don’t think strange thoughts, nothing’s disappearing. I still have hands, and they’re not cold."

It was all just an illusion. This dungeon was brainwashing him, trying to kill him.

Since this was his first time encountering this type of calm dungeon, panic hit him for a moment, but he wasn’t someone who would just give in that easily.

"If this is a dungeon, what kind of dungeon is it?"

Is it a mobile-type, a fixed-type? Virtual? A mansion? An entrance?

Consciously taking a deep breath, the man rolled his eyes from side to side.

"I definitely... was dragged here by that hand..."

He couldn’t remember the exact process, but he clearly remembered being dragged out of "The Jewel’s Flow" by transparent hands that emerged from a frame.

His expression, once focused on survival, quickly collapsed into despair and fear.

"......"

He recalled the moment when he had been pulled into the frame.

"...Hah...."

The sensation of his body melting like paint was vivid in his mind.

"...I shouldn’t think about this. In a situation like this, thinking more will only lower my chances of survival... yeah, I have to focus. Focus...."

He tried to pull himself together, but it wasn’t easy.

It felt so strange. Was it painful? Maybe it was. Was it peaceful? No, it wasn’t.

The sensation of his feet being the first to be devoured by the frame and slowly melting away like wax. The pain.

How could he forget the feeling of becoming a liquid capable of thought?

"......"

After losing consciousness from the pain, he had come this far without resisting...

"......"

So.

"......"

What was he trying to do?

"...Ah, ah, ah."

With a stumble, the man collapsed backward.

"Ugh...."

Now even his thoughts were disappearing into this emptiness.

‘I can’t go on like this.’

He didn’t know exactly what kind of dungeon this was.

Although its structure might resemble the dungeons he knew, it was completely different. Still, as a B-grade hunter, he instinctively realized that this dungeon was like a mutation.

So, his chances of survival were slim, but he didn’t care. In truth, it was more like he couldn’t think.

Realizing that his thoughts were being eaten up by pain and fear, the man tried to struggle as best he could.

"Get up, get up. Get up and...."

For some reason, his body hadn’t responded since earlier. It was similar to the feeling when he had just awakened in the past or when he was overwhelmed by too strong an emotion and collapsed.

But that, too, sent chills down his spine.

‘Is this dungeon sucking up the strength I should be able to exert?’

He had that suspicion.

After struggling like a bug on the ground several times, the man finally managed to get up.

He couldn’t understand it, but because of rubbing his body on the dark gray asphalt floor, his body was covered in soot.

No, it seemed like paint was oozing out of him.

‘Paint?’

Finally, and only after a delay, the man realized whose dungeon he was in.

"...Black Cloak...."

Wasn’t this a very famous story recently?

"...Black...Black Cloak...!! Yeah, that bastard...!! That monster bastard!!"

Even in this dungeon, his deep arrogance and overflowing anger couldn’t be concealed.

Dragged like a pitiful dog, struggling and now miserable, this was all created by that monster.

How could a filthy, beastly monster do this to a human...!

"Shit, shit, SHIT!! You damn monster that just goes around giving useless gifts...!!!"

He didn’t even realize what he was shouting.

If he were a hunter with more knowledge and better skills, he would have recognized that he was inside ‘Black Cloak’s belly’ and would have shown the utmost humility and reflection.

But if he were such a person, why would ‘The City of Emptiness’ have dragged Park Eun-Gyeom here in the first place?

Gio’s children knew exactly what their parent disliked. They were beings who didn’t even understand such things.

"Hah, h-hah... huff..."

The man, still trembling, slowly moved his feet and began to leave his spot.

It all looked the same, but every dungeon had an entrance. There was no dungeon without a way out.

Such a place couldn’t be called a dungeon. So, it had to exist, of course it did. But still, the question remained.

‘Why Black Cloak?’

Although the response level of the Hunter Association website was adjusted very high, those managing the information were all human, so they might have been overly cautious.

The explanation said to be careful, but in reality, Black Cloak had never harmed a human.

‘Although some idiots died because they suddenly left their posts...’

For a moment, the man thought of ‘The Land of the Deep Sea’ and shook his head.

‘I’ve never heard of an attack like this before.’

The Black Cloak he knew was a monster that would suddenly appear, greet you gloomily, give a gift, and then disappear.

So trivial that some people would gather together and chat about Black Cloak, passing time with pointless stories...

‘Why the hell... is that monster... after me?’

While he was slowly moving his feet, it happened.

"......"

He froze.

"......"

Ignoring the creaking of his un-oiled joints, he turned his head to look behind.

"......"

"......"

A man in a suit was standing.

"...What..."

"......"

"What is it?"

It was a pitch-black suit.

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It looked like the shadow of a basement where not a single beam of light entered. Even the shirt was black, and it looked suffocating, with every button meticulously fastened. The black shoes, for some reason, looked sturdy.

It stood there, silently, staring at the man.

‘...Staring?’

What kind of nonsense was he thinking, looking at something without a face?

‘No, wait... Did I...?’

Had he known it was there behind him?

"......"

Despite not feeling any presence, the man knew the ‘suit’ was there.

"...Ah..."

A dark liquid seemed to flow through his empty brain. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

"...Go away."

"......"

"Go away, you monster. This, this just... I...!"

"......"

"I’ll just...!"

While the man staggered back with the suit in his line of sight, he kept checking behind him to make sure he wouldn’t bump into another suit, but none appeared.

As he stepped back, the first suit didn’t come any closer.

"......"

"......"

Even though he had moved for a long time, the suit still remained motionless.

With his mind set, the man quickly tried to run and leave the spot.

"Ugh...!!"

Unable to put strength in his legs, he kept falling on the rough asphalt floor, but he didn’t care.

"Haaah, h-hah, huff...!!"

As he ran.

"Aah...!!!"

"......"

"Ah, ahh...!!"

Once again, the pitch-black suit appeared in his vision.

It stood, arms crossed, slowly walking, but it was clear that its direction had shifted to look at him. The slow pace, as if it were on its way to work, gave an unbearable sense of discomfort, causing the man to stifle his scream.

But he still ran. Falling, skin scraping, running again. A B-grade hunter like him didn’t have the time to analyze why he was feeling pain on this asphalt floor.

‘Crazy...!!’

The man kept encountering the suits.

On the left, there was a suit. It sat on a bench, watching the man run.

On the right, a suit was running a bit slower. It had also turned toward him.

Ahead, there were two suits. They stood still, staring at the man as he moved.

Then, when he looked behind.

"......"

Right behind him, from farther away, and from alleys, inside buildings, beyond glass windows, from rooftops, under streetlights, beside benches, inside bus stops, inside convenience stores, inside cars, walking, running, stopping, they all stared at him.

"......"

Then.

When he looked ahead...?

"......"

What would happen?

"......"

The man felt the breath of the suit, so close to his body.

"Ugh..."

He couldn’t turn his head forward again.

There was no presence, but the feeling of its existence was overwhelming. Even though the clothes moved by themselves, it felt like there was a living person inside.

No, of course, it couldn’t be called a person, and it shouldn’t be called that... But still.

"...Hah..."

Slowly turning his body, the man sluggishly sank to the ground.

"Haa, hh... hhh..."

Squatting down ungracefully, he saw his own state.

"Haa... Aahh... Ugh..."

Instead of blood, black paint oozed from his skin that had been scraped raw.

"Aah..."

The man, trembling, fumbled his face with his black, shaky hands. It felt wet.

"......"

Turning his head to look at the building’s window, he saw his own reflection, covered in black splotches. It looked like rotten flesh, stained with a filthy, dark color, with holes that looked like they were eaten away.

"......"

Even when he hurriedly felt around, there were no holes. But this was a shadow.

He lowered his head, kept feeling around his body, looking at his legs, which looked like they had tar smeared on them.

Then, as he looked up...

"......"

"......"

"......"

He raised his head.

"Wow, look at this person."

It was an unbearably familiar voice.

"Why is it so blotchy?"

"Not complete."

"That's why we can call it an unfinished work."

It was Park Eun-Gyeom, his own voice.

He saw the black-suited figures surrounding him, looking down at him.

"......"

They didn’t surround him tightly, but there weren’t few of them. They looked like citizens watching someone who had a heart attack.

The intense discomfort made his teeth grind.

"Wow, look at this person."

The exact same voice.

"Why is it so blotchy?"

"Not complete."

"That's why we can call it an unfinished work."

The exact same lines.

"......"

And then.

Park Eun-Gyeom touched his neck.

"Wow."

"...―"

"Look at this person."

...He couldn’t speak.

"Why is it so blotchy?"

"......"

"Not complete."

"......"

"That's why we can call it an unfinished work."

"......"

"......"

"......"