The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 361

To begin with the conclusion—

“......”

Gio set out alone on a solitary journey.

“Haaaah...”

“Wow, I didn’t expect your face to look that bad.”

“...Do you know how it feels to be a curator who’s just sent off his own piece?”

“Well, I’m a collector, so of course I do, Curator Yoo Seong-Woon.”

“You’re not a curator, Guildmaster...”

Yoo Seong-Woon was in a terrible mood.

To leave something like ‘Gio’s Portrait’—his own piece—alone in this vast garden felt like an omen too disturbing to put into words.

Bisa Beul gave him that characteristic sly smile.

“If you keep looking like that, our Moon Sect priests might start giving you odd looks. Are you okay with that?”

“I’m already getting those looks.”

“Well, it has become quite the famous rumor.”

“To be fair, it’s not exactly false to say I’ve been keeping him locked up.”

The so-called “Sergio Hunter Imprisonment Rumor” was an open secret among hunters. People didn’t talk about it openly, but everyone seemed to think, ‘Well, he’s a collector, so of course he’d do that.’

Given Yoo Seong-Woon’s usual behavior, and how little the truth actually deviated, he couldn’t even be mad about it.

He rubbed his empty side absently and looked at Bisa Beul.

“So... shall we get started?”

“Sounds good. The Moon Sect seems ready too.”

“Yeah... we’d better get something done while Gio’s away.”

After the battle with the clowns, the mystic particles had warped, and the terrain had changed.

Even though they’d been investigating during rest breaks, the “Answer” still hadn’t shown itself.

It was strange, honestly.

The Moon Sect had pinpointed this exact location as the singularity point where the mystic particles spiked.

And yet when they tried to find it—it was nowhere to be seen.

Even if the particle flow had been twisted, it should still be somewhere nearby.

Still, the clown had clearly said the object that matched the “Answer” was here.

The Moon Sect had hypothesized that perhaps the clown had twisted the particle flow itself.

Thinking of that, Yoo Seong-Woon rubbed his neck.

“At the very least, we need that kind of minimum result, right? Otherwise, we’ll look like helpless kids dumped by the water’s edge.”

“You’re really going to compare the mercy of the Origin to a baby left at the river?”

“Well, the context is similar, right? Even if the scale’s a bit different.”

Still... it left him feeling uneasy.

‘What’s really bothering me is that this time, the portrait’s behavior patterns clearly changed.’

If humans didn’t show initiative and results, Gio’s portrait might come to believe {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} that humans were creatures meant to be managed.

But no matter how ideal the utopia—nobody wants to be livestock in a pen.

‘Not that he’d ever admit to thinking that, of course.’

That’s just how it would look from the Origin’s perspective.

And now, the Apostles of Color were starting to be observed on Earth.

Especially the “Sky Blue” Apostle—it was showing up far too frequently.

Before the Earth ended up in Gio’s hands, humans needed to handle things properly themselves.

Right now, the Apostles were just watching and offering trivial help.

But if something went wrong, everything could spiral.

“Let’s see...”

With his usual calm smile, Yoo Seong-Woon looked out over the garden.

Thanks to the intense battle, its already-complex structure had become even more chaotic.

Even a quick glance showed it was more tangled than an anthill.

He pressed his lips together.

It might have been ravaged, but it was still a dreamlike and beautiful cavern.

Still, a different kind of unease crept in now.

“Was there ever an end to the ‘Gem’s Waterway’?”

“If I’m not senile yet, I’ve never heard of such a report.”

“Hah... we’re so screwed.”

The blessing of overtime never seemed to end.

***

Meanwhile, Gio’s situation—

“At least it looks like I’m not being treated like a total problem child. That’s a relief, isn’t it?”

“Grrruuuk!”

“Let’s hope this strategy actually works.”

He was peacefully walking across the garden.

From Gio’s perspective, there were two main causes for the catastrophic mess they were in right now.

First, Zeorge.

Second, his disciples.

Neither of which he could say had no connection to him.

“Ha-ha, what troublesome friends I have.”

So they say: you have to choose your friends wisely.

And if you looked at it broadly, the garden with legs and the emotionally stunted disciples were all, technically, his friends.

Yoo Seong-Woon hadn’t been wrong when he said, ‘It’s not your fault, so why feel responsible?’

Still, Gio’s conscience prickled—just faintly.

Because he did know them.

“At any rate, if I go in together with the Collector, we should be able to close in from both sides. That’ll help clean things up, don’t you think?”

“Gng?”

“Why do you sound so unconvinced, my son?”

So, Gio decided to go for a simultaneous approach.

As a sturdy portrait, he wasn’t about to die just by diving into a painting he’d made himself.

It made mobility simple.

Aram, who didn’t know the situation, had been baffled at first.

But once the Collector firmly said, ‘Ah, it’s fine,’ she had more or less convinced herself somehow...

“I wonder what she even told herself to make it make sense.”

“Grruk.”

“Her eyes were oddly sympathetic, and yet kind of reverent. I can still see them clearly.”

“Gng?”

“No matter where I go, I always get that kind of look. Is that my problem...?”

Giovanni gave a bitter smile.

‘Anyway, no way I could just sit around doing nothing right now.’

Until just recently, he had been rather close to letting his dear hyung Yoo Seong-Woon talk him into staying put.

But when he saw I-Sol sniffling like that, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of adult responsibility.

Even like this, he was still a teacher-turned-portrait with a soft spot for kids.

“...I hope I bump into someone soon.”

Gio tilted his head and smiled.

“Don’t you think so, Aria?”

SPLASH—!

From within the seawater, a dark silhouette fluttered grandly.

“...Looks like a giant whale.”

Somewhere within the ever-shifting layout of the Garden of Pleasure, Gio stood under a clear sky, in a vast expanse of deep ocean.

This small dungeon, themed around personal vulnerabilities, seemed—at the moment—to be reflecting “Giovanni.”

But it felt a little different.

“Unlike other people’s dungeons, this one doesn’t seem to need conquering. I’ve just been walking, and already I can see the end.

Or maybe... walking together with you two was the condition for clearing it?”

When Giovanni looked up at the sky, clouds bloomed and spread across the clear expanse.

They became a sunset tinged with iridescent light, and within moments, transformed into a star-filled night sky.

“No matter how ‘sky blue’ you are, this is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Grrruuuk...”

“Hm, true. If this is a dungeon, maybe you could even pluck one of those stars?”

Honey, who loved shiny things, stared at a bright star with greedy eyes.

From the Gem’s Waterway to now, it seemed a bit of sparkle had calmed her down considerably.

“Let’s see what’s next.”

Next was a forest tainted by poison.

“Ah, of course. Now we’re here.”

“Grrk?”

“Good thing we didn’t bring anyone along, right?”

Gio let out a sigh and shifted his color.

Giovanni had a fairly strong build for a priest, but this kind of environment was still better suited to Argio.

It even resembled his homeland a little.

“When I was around others, this part never showed. I wonder what I’m thinking.”

He lightly scratched his neck and moved forward.

The mermaid who had been following as a shadow from the depths of the sea splashed her tail once on land, then disappeared.

Most likely, she had slipped into his dark shadow.

In the space lined with countless trees, Gio easily spotted his friend.

“It’s been a while for you, too.”

The multicolored bark of the trees bore patterns like deer antlers.

They were still and yet unmistakably alive.

Argio strolled among them, whispering with genuine fondness.

“Haven’t seen you in a while—were you too embarrassed to show yourself?”

“Gng...”

“Don’t be like that. At least these friends aren’t illusions.”

He calmed Honey, who had started bristling.

There were so many things to be excited about that it was hard to distinguish reality, but these were genuinely friends from Gio’s Palette.

They hadn’t been made in this garden.

“So then, next must be Zeorge’s world?”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“Conscience-free showoff, aren’t you.”

“GrrruuuuuUUUK!!”

“Okay, okay, no need to shout all of a sudden.”

From the looks of it, this world reflected “Sergio.”

“...At this point...”

With a blank expression, Gio blinked twice.

“I think I know who I’m about to run into.”

If the pattern held, it was Zeorge’s turn next.

But that bastard, who chews what’s sweet and spits what’s bitter, probably wasn’t going to appear so straightforwardly.

So Gio shifted into a familiar form.

And sure enough, met a familiar face.

“Haera.”

“......”

A quiet cabin in the forest.

“You’re soaked in blood.”

“......”

“You’re making a strange face.”

From within that familiar portrait, Gio asked Haera,

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“...Hunter Sergio.”

“Yes. I’m Sergio.”

“If I called you teacher, what would that mean?”

“Then I’d be your teacher.”

As if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

***

Dan Haera, who had sought to escape the dungeon, remained alone and witnessed many things. She could not remember them. They were stories erased from the world. And yet, the time that had once existed reflected itself into this world. Dan Haera, who had once been a model student, could not possibly fail to read those stories.

First, at school—

“......”

She saw the baptism she had received. Perhaps it was because she had been there the moment her teacher became a god. If her guess was right, Dan Haera had received a miraculous blessing on the day of the Great Catastrophe. She had awakened a mysterious power.

Her teacher was no longer human. He was merciful. He saved her. And gave her power. Dan Haera’s reverence must have begun from there.

“......”

When she left the school, she arrived in a small village. A place with empty houses, a child’s clothing left behind, a photograph of an old man and a child. A calm, peaceful village where only gentle souls remained...

“......”

And among it, new traces carved by youth. A photograph of someone whose face had been erased, placed right next to the old man and child’s. Dan Haera and her friends stood together in it. So that’s what it was. They had fled the school and come here. Perhaps, in some way, they had found peace here.

“......”

But they must have known that their teacher was a god. Having been thrown into the wild before even graduating, the students had hoped for everything from their teacher: absolute support, eternal safety, perfect protection, exclusive favoritism, and in the end—

“...Baptism?”

They had desired the same blessing Dan Haera had received.

“Interesting.”

Though it wasn’t all that amusing.

“From the start... Jeong Hae-Woon left the fewest traces. So there was a reason you were chosen.”

As time passed, clever students—and others—started to notice something. Unlike ordinary Awakened, Dan Haera’s power wasn’t something innate that she had “discovered”—it was something she had “received.”

Or perhaps not even received—perhaps she had been tainted by it. Dan Haera could feel that she was connected to her teacher. And maybe that was why she revered him as a god. Maybe.

And then, after that—

“You never went to the city, did you.”

No matter how far she walked, the background didn’t change. Was it the students’ desperate attempt to avoid losing their beloved “teacher”? Or was it simply the preference of the teacher himself, who disliked noise and crowds? The buildings and scenery changed little by little, but in the end, she remained in the middle of a quiet natural world.

But the traces left behind raised a question within Dan Haera.

“...Did you have an opinion at all?”

They say gods and heroes are created by humans. And in all contexts, that statement holds true. It seemed to be the case even now. It was likely true back then too. Though he required food and sleep, though he bled warm blood, the “teacher” gradually began to be treated as something closer to a god.

And perhaps he truly was. The astonishing traces he left behind showed he had surpassed the limits of humanity—not just in terms of power, but in the way he thought.

“Despite being human.”

And just when she tried to think of him as a god, her eyes fell on a simple birthday letter. Apparently, the god of her students had personally written them birthday notes each year. Had he also baked them cakes? What kind of domestic god does that?

“Was he human?”

At the very least, he seemed like someone who wished to remain one.

“......”

And he seemed like someone worthy of that.

But to the students, he would always have been a god. And to those who followed the students with such outstanding ability, he was likely the same. No—perhaps they’d even tried to fully elevate him to the realm of gods, despite his desire to stay human.

There are many cases where something becomes a god solely through human faith.

“......”

Did they try to build a new world with a new god?

“......”

One who cherished and favored them above all?

“...They deserved divine punishment for that.”

And perhaps they received it.

Dan Haera’s steps finally stopped before a pool of blood. Even for the president of the Association, it was hard to believe this had come from a human. Shallow, yet spread wide—blood soaked the ground. In the middle lay a straw doll.

“Ha.”

Why was it so shredded?

Even if a beast had chewed it apart, it wouldn’t look like this. It was a faceless doll, and yet the gruesomeness of it was painfully clear. Dan Haera stepped into the blood.

Before she realized it, she found herself praying. Please... don’t let it be that we did this. Don’t let it be that we turned someone into this mess with something less than what a beast would do.

Please. Please. Please...

“...It’s lukewarm...”

Kneeling in blood as warm as bathwater on a summer day, Dan Haera buried her face in her hands.

“......”

It was cowardly—but she felt relief.

It wasn’t us.

At the very least, it wasn’t the four students who had made him end up like this.

No matter what they might’ve done later, the evidence left behind pointed to far too many culprits. At least thirty. That alone was absurd. It made her want to laugh, but even that didn’t come.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit excessive for divine punishment to leave him in such a pitiful state?”

And the worst part was—it wasn’t even him who should’ve received the punishment.

“He seemed like a good person.”

Dan Haera laid herself atop the lukewarm doll.

“He was a good person.”

He wasn’t someone who deserved to die like this. No. He really wasn’t.

“......”

They say if you eat a god, you gain power and immortality. That he was the cause of the Great Catastrophe. That the world could be restored only if a sacrifice of his scale was made. People whispered these things.

And so, they grew more eager. They needed to hide him. They wanted their god—who only loved them—to exist in this new world. They worked so hard to keep him from being tainted, to separate him from the rest of humanity.

Maybe that was what led to their downfall.

“......”

People stormed in. They tried to kill him. To devour him.

And in the face of humanity’s ugliness and his compassion, they nearly succeeded. By the time the foolish disciples tried to salvage what they could, he was already like this. Already reduced to this.

They had tried to make their teacher the god of a new age. They had almost succeeded. And yet, because the one who was meant to become god had died, the world had begun to teeter. Fate and mystery spiraled into chaos.

“......”

There had been two choices.

Let him die as a human and let Earth collapse.

Or turn him into Earth’s god and let humanity continue.

“......”

If the former had been chosen, Earth would’ve become a new dungeon and drifted through the cosmos. But with the latter, at least the humans would’ve had a future.

“......”

Jeong Hae-Woon had been disgusted by those two options.

Now that she thought about it, he had shown signs of hesitation throughout. He rarely took full part, always seemed to keep one foot out. He’d wanted things, sure—but not more than he cared about his teacher.

Jeong Hae-Woon had been the only one who opposed the “consumption.”

But they were bound by fate. And he had loved his friends. So of course he lost.

“...So that’s why...”

That’s why he made that promise.

“You made them forget.”

Why?

She knew why.

Because without erasing everything related to “the teacher,” Earth couldn’t be saved.

But... was that really the only reason?

Wasn’t it also just a way to run away?

“Why...”

Dan Haera let out a hollow laugh as she lay atop the shredded doll. Her eyes stung. Her head hurt. Her throat felt dry. She wanted to clench her fists, but the doll was so fragile she couldn’t even do that.

Why had they gone this far?

“...We shouldn’t have...”

We shouldn’t have seen you as a god.

ERROR

ERROR

ERROR

Ah... Teacher.

“......”

Having reached a dead end, she drank from the lukewarm blood—

—and a door in a room opened.

“......”

A calmness so unnatural it felt alien.

Inside, a room filled with the teacher’s traces.

A single portrait stood as if waiting for her.

Dan Haera silently approached it and reached out.

The man within, pale as a corpse, gently took her hand.

And pulled her inside.

***

“......”

“Haera.”

A quiet cabin in the woods.

“You’re covered in blood.”

“......”

“You’re making a strange face.”

From within that familiar “portrait,” the teacher asked his student,

“You’re not going to speak?”

“...Hunter Sergio.”

“Yes. I’m Sergio.”

“If I called you ‘teacher,’ then what?”

“Then I’d be your teacher.”

“......”

As if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“......”

Why?

How...?

***

“......”

“Grandfather? What is it?”

“...On the canvas...”

“Pardon?”

“Let it be painted... upon the canvas...”

The first to speak was an old man—a senile elder who still held first-class citizenship.

“Our god has returned.”

He mumbled from his bed.

Let it be painted... upon the canvas...