The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 350

Haryeong chose the “Oh right, we’re beasts” approach. In other words, they openly acknowledged their own ugliness. Like how fish don’t drown in water—it was a matter of habitat.

It was a method only possible because Haryeong’s expectations of themselves were already in the negatives. They were always prepared to shrug off a “You’re trash” with a “? And what’s that to me?” Haryeong’s guild members were, in their own way, quite good at self-awareness.

Of course, that wasn’t something just anyone could pull off. So the Moon Sect chose knowledge and research instead.

“I-I-I did it...!!”

The voice of a still-young girl rang through the Garden.

“It works successfully!!!”

“WAAAAAH!!”

“As expected of our Moon!!”

“Praise be to her!!!”

The Moon Sect’s new Moon, Aram—now slightly more grown physically—held aloft a brilliantly glowing moon and cried out, and the priests erupted in cheers. Their shouting seemed like it could reach the heavens themselves.

Aram, once a Saintess, cried tears of pride as she shouted.

“We finally found the formula! Truly, with the help of our seniors, there’s no mystery too complex for us to organize! Let us all praise our seniors who unraveled this intricate and abstruse enigma!”

“As expected of the saints and saintesses of the Moon Sect!”

“They’re the ones who gave that frail Moon a brain and a heart!”

“O noble and wise saints of the Moon Sect!”

The Moon Sect’s priests were, in truth, more like scholars. And they were, well, significantly lacking in social skills. They were nothing like Haryeong, who could solve things with brute stupidity and loosened screws.

In the end, they set out to replicate the power of a gardener. Thanks to the unusually heavy time distortion in their area, they had a slight advantage. Over the span of more than four months, the priests of the Moon Sect worked together to develop a “Garden Formula.”

If they couldn’t find a solution, they would be wiped out before they could even begin proper exploration—so they had to figure something out.

“With this, even hunters and priests can imitate a gardener’s power!”

Aram, filled with elation, choked up once more.

“Even this insane experiment has an end...!”

“It’s truly a relief that the 481,043rd final trial succeeded.”

“To think we could achieve this much in under a year—this must be a miracle. Without the help of our saints, this would’ve been impossible.”

“You’re absolutely right!”

“And we must never forget the support of our young hatchlings who helped keep the hands and feet of our seniors warm so the Moon could turn smoothly.”

“Of course, Bishop...!!”

In truth, research into this had begun from the moment “Garden” and “gardener” became known to the world. They’d long suspected that “mystery” lay beneath all foundations—skills, dungeons, monsters—and had dedicated themselves to studying it.

And at last, amid this dire ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) situation, the Moon Sect had succeeded. Having completed their “Garden Formula,” they used divine power to suppress the Garden’s severe distortions.

“It really is more effective than divine power.”

“When the Sect’s gates reopen, we must recruit priests with gardener potential first...”

“Still, it’s thanks to the gardeners who’ve quietly supported us that we made it this far.”

“They might’ve found it uncomfortable, yet they helped anyway. We owe them a great deal.”

“We’ll have to thank them again later.”

Of course, it couldn’t match a real gardener’s power. The formula only worked inside the Garden, since it borrowed power from the Garden they themselves were residing in. It consumed mental and physical energy quickly.

But it was still far better than nothing. Since they were coloring themselves with the Garden’s own hues, the strength of the mental assaults had all but vanished. It was similar to how one’s own organ wouldn’t attack itself.

“Then let’s share the formula with everyone! The comms equipment is in shambles, so spreading it will be hard, but it’s unthinkable for us to keep it to ourselves, right?”

“Bishop, you’re right! The number of casualties we heard in the last communication still rings in my ears. If we use the formula, it might even reduce the distortion on the comms!”

One of the excited priests added,

“But... can other people use this formula?”

“...Ah?”

“Ah...”

“Ahh...”

It wasn’t a formula exclusively for Moon Sect divine power. They had created it with the intent of maximizing survival across the raid participants. But what they hadn’t anticipated was not that it would be used by hunters or priests from other sects.

“It’s whether anyone outside the Moon Sect would even understand it.”

The problem was that no one else was as studious as the Moon Sect.

“......”

“......”

“...Maybe we can do a lecture...”

“A lecture? Over this pitiful comms system? To hunters?”

“Simplifying the formula for general use would be faster.”

Aram nodded. She, too, couldn’t imagine feeding this formula into the heads of clueless civilians using these miserable communication devices. There was a high chance they wouldn’t even grasp the basic fundamentals.

Association staff or fellow priests might manage. But most hunters, on average, were... less diligent about studying. Rather than hoping for a miraculous mass IQ boost, it seemed more realistic that the scholars who made the formula should do a bit more work.

“Everyone, gather up again. Let’s try condensing the formula.”

“Ah... just how much will we have to dumb it down to get those blockheads to understand...”

“You can’t just insult people for not studying enough.”

And so, the Moon Sect found their own way to resist.

And it wasn’t just them adjusting. In the end, if one didn’t want to die, they had to adapt—to this mental assault, to this intangible and unfamiliar mystery. That applied to everyone in the raid.

“Uh, uhh...”

“? What is it.”

“Hey, I think I got it.”

“Got what.”

“This Garden or whatever—it’s clicking!”

“Are you drunk? You used to be an alcoholic—don’t tell me...”

“No, seriously?! You gonna keep jabbing that wound?!”

Some hunters were now seeing results, thanks to their prior efforts during the “System Error Incident.” It paid off for those who had endured the era without the System, those who had quietly reached out to retired hunters and hidden gardeners for guidance.

“This is crazy, how’d you do it? It never worked in the real world.”

“Ah... it’s just different. It feels totally different from Earth. I think the environment here made it possible.”

“What exactly is different?”

“It’s like I can breathe better? You know how water magic works better in wet areas? It’s like that.”

“Bro I’m a dealer not a mage, how the hell am I supposed to get that.”

“Think about it—can you breathe where there’s no oxygen?!”

“How is this the same thing?!”

There was a bit of commotion and friction in the process of sharing these insights, but some were beginning to see results. For the first time, they were experiencing “mystery” itself, not skills filtered through the System.

“...So this is what mystery is.”

“It’s not totally unlike skills, but it’s...”

“It feels like I’ve grown a new sense.”

And it wasn’t just one or two. Many of the current raid members had once sought new learning during the “System Error Incident,” and a surprising number of them were starting to feel the effects.

“Hey, hey, look at this.”

“That’s the skill you always use. What am I supposed to see?”

“No, it’s different. I’m not using the System—it feels like I created it myself.”

“Man, what the hell kind of freaky thing are you doing...”

And in that process, another phenomenon began.

“...Huh?”

“S-System...!”

“What the hell’s going on?!”

The hunters who had successfully felt and wielded mystery began to experience System failure.

The interface started displaying scrambled symbols and characters before glitching out entirely. After a prolonged malfunction, the System darkened and eventually displayed only a few lines.

Variable detected

Base calculations exceeded

Error occurred

And then, it stopped.

System shutting down

It was hard to comprehend.

“Wh-what’s happening?!”

“Dude, my System’s gone.”

“What is this, a crashed server reservation page?!”

Some began to piece it together.

“...Is this really it?”

“What is?”

“The server crashed?”

“? What did I even do?”

“It says ‘base calculation,’ see?”

A hunter hesitantly offered a hypothesis.

“It’s like... a game tutorial ended. Like we’ve outgrown the basic stage, and the current System can’t calculate beyond that.”

“...You’re saying the System is a game?”

“Well, Earth had game-based systems even before the Catastrophe. Honestly, doesn’t it feel kinda similar? Is it just me?”

“So the System copied a game format?”

“It’s just a theory, but...”

A similar theory was forming in the mind of one of the advance party—President of the Association, Dan Haera.

“......”

“Madam President, this is...”

“...It was a tutorial.”

She laughed for the first time in a while.

“Ahaha, haha...!”

“......”

“My god... it really was a game. It followed a game format.”

Back during the chaotic aftermath of the Great Catastrophe, it had been a way to help as many people adapt as possible. Teacher, indeed—how kind.

Dan Haera had realized the nature of the System and the reason behind this phenomenon. “Teacher Sergio” had become the System to help humanity survive and learn. And once people could sense mystery without the System’s help, the basic education ended.

At that point, they wouldn’t die even without it.

“Our director can still use skills even though the System shut down?”

“Yes. Not everyone succeeded, but there are quite a few cases like mine.”

“When exactly did the System shut off?”

“It was after we sensed mystery—the essence behind our skills—and confirmed we could use our skills through that.”

“So in other words, the moment you proved you could use skills without System assistance... it shut off?”

“Yes, most likely... that’s how it felt.”

“That’s truly fascinating. I like it.”

Dan Haera blinked, then smiled deeply.

“...We really need to keep the System, then.”

It had endless potential.

Jeong Hae-Woon said this power wasn’t his... but even so, I feel it belongs to me. As the owner of the Promise, it means I can possibly intervene in the System, which was born from it...

If this was basic education, then next could be advanced education. If that worked, the future planned by the Symbols of Eternity might come sooner than expected.

Dan Haera decided to acknowledge it: this, too, was effective teaching by the Black Cloak. Even if it shook nations and caused casualties, the result was worth the price.

The System must be preserved. There’s too much to gain. Now that I understand its essence, it can be used more effectively. What better textbook could exist for properly educating hunters—dangerous weapons who can act anytime, anywhere?

Her goal had changed, but her task remained the same. Dan Haera would defeat “Zeorge,” and convince “Gio’s Portrait” to develop a new System.

And if persuasion fails... I’ll make a Promise.

Just as they had used a Promise to stop divine beings from interfering recklessly with Earth—Dan Haera’s power could work on even the grandest mystery. And for that, she would prepare a great price.

“I’ll act alone from here.”

“But Madam President...!”

“You don’t think I can handle myself, do you? Or are you saying you can’t manage without my supervision?”

“No, of course not. But it’s just... too dangerous. This is a dungeon and a Garden at once.”

“That’s exactly why solitary exploration has value.”

She needed more memories. More emotions. She had to collect as much as possible to eventually build the new System.

“See you later.”

And so, Dan Haera began acting alone.

***

And a few days later—

“...A-A Clown...”

“What?”

“A Clown has appeared.”

The real “attack” had begun.