The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 372

Sergio was a dull person.

Because of that, he analyzed the existence of many emotions through reason. To him, joy was the strength to endure, sorrow was the strength to reflect, and anger was the strength to move forward. Knowing that, there was no need to be buried under the weight of the emotions themselves.

But hadn’t he decided to try changing?

“Grrrk.”

“......”

“Grrrng, grrr....”

He thought: let’s look at reality a bit more, admit the truth honestly, and do what I can. In a situation like this, for example....

‘Something like giving form to a phantom enemy.’

So, he had many reasons.

He was angry because a friend was in pain, he had to stop students who wouldn’t listen, and he had to acknowledge something beyond himself in order to let people out of this garden. He had to change, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° and he already had. The path before him had already connected into one long ago.

But when he finally set foot on that path, Gio suddenly found himself wondering—

“......”

How does one get angry?

“Grrrrrk....”

What is ‘anger itself,’ not ‘justified anger’?

“Grrrrrrrrr...!”

“Honey.”

“Grrr.”

“I don’t really get it.”

He had never once expressed anger in that way. For him, all emotions had reasons and meaning. He was probably a bit different from others. But that didn’t mean his emotions were fake.

Still, he admits it. He understands. Because everything had been rational and meaningful, “Sergio” failed. In the end, it was a bad ending. The system never evolved. “Gio” died a pitiful death.

“What should I have done differently?”

The way of living he liked was “Sergio’s.” It was “Giovanni’s.” It was “Argio’s.”

But among all the versions of Gio, the only one that still held a spark of life—even if ugly—was “Zeorge.” Only he continued to tell the story.

So what that meant was clear.

“I guess sometimes you need to be filthy too?”

“......”

“No, maybe it’s more like being honest about your emotions. Still, I’d rather not imitate Zeorge’s petty temper. That’s just embarrassing for someone his age.”

“......”

“So I should hold back, but it’s really hard. Emotions that can’t be calculated or predicted....”

As he muttered, Yoo Seong-Woon’s face came to mind.

“He looked like he was in pain.”

With a calm smile and practiced words, his friend had hidden many things. Like cold and agony beyond the necrosis creeping over his frostbitten body, or the fear that he might be consumed by mystery and no longer be able to live as a human.

He hated that.

“It feels kind of wrong to go this far just because I dislike something.”

“Grrrrk...!”

“But before I’m a teacher, I’m a person, right? So maybe it’s okay?”

Humans are selfish. They dare to measure the world by their own standards and commit countless sins in the process.

‘I’m the same.’

Even after fusing with the system that survived thirty years alone, even after regaining the memories of being worshipped as a living god, even after understanding his own existence and concept—he still believed he was human.

He still had likes and dislikes. He preferred salty and sweet over bitter and sour. He felt comfortable alone, but sometimes wished someone would look into the canvas. He cried, laughed, loved, and hated.

“If I weren’t human, how could I do all this... don’t you think?”

With his signature expressionless face, Gio stepped into the heart of the calamity.

“...I don’t really know.”

And that, it seemed, was the right answer.

Not knowing.

***

“─Take me in.”

Overwhelming sorrow, anger, and joy surged forth.

“I can do that better than you, Gio.”

The ugly one savored that weight purely.

“Isn’t that right?”

The portrait acknowledged “Zeorge.”

***

“......!”

Yoo Seong-Woon felt around his body.

“Uh, wait a minute....”

“Curator Yoo Seong-Woon?”

“Why am I okay?”

His face turned pale.

“I’m not supposed to be okay?”

A garden, by nature, is a prolonged organ of origin and a water vein. A sudden change in it is a disaster. Especially if it's a garden as stubborn and rowdy as “Zeorge.”

That’s why the current stillness came as terror.

“Guildmaster, right now...!”

“......”

“...Guildmaster.”

“...Haa....”

With a deeply distorted face, Bisa Beul murmured with his eyes closed.

“I knew this would happen.”

Tap, drip....

Bloody tears fell without end.

“Don’t be alarmed. We were aware of this beforehand.”

“No, but... your eyes... Guildmaster....”

“These eyes are guilty in this place. With Zeorge now fully active, it seems they’ve closed on their own... Or maybe I shouldn’t say ‘see’ anymore?”

“I didn’t say that to guilt-trip you. If it’s funny, you can laugh.”

Bisa Beul wiped the bloody tears with a handkerchief and laughed.

“Hmph, no one’s laughing?”

“...Should I laugh for you?”

“No need for that. I meant it sincerely.”

“S-class hunters all have a terrible sense of humor.”

“I told you I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

Speaking as if it were no big deal, Bisa Beul gestured toward his loyal subordinate, Garasani. Living up to his alias as Chamber Master, Garasani calmly and steadily tied a black cloth over Bisa Beul’s eyes. It was a cloth that fixed the state of whatever it covered beyond it.

“It won’t get any worse.”

“Looks like I won’t be recovering inside the garden, so this is the best option.”

Once the cloth was tied, the ceaseless bloody tears stopped.

“...Still feels pretty shitty.”

Though he acted calm, not being able to see was a discomfort he couldn’t enjoy. And since it was a cursed item, it began triggering auditory hallucinations and ringing in his ears—but Bisa Beul showed no sign of it as he turned toward Yoo Seong-Woon.

“So you’re feeling better, are you?”

“...Is this the time to be asking me that?”

“Curator Yoo Seong-Woon?”

“...Yes. It’s as peaceful as the eye of a typhoon. That’s how quiet it is. Just a moment ago it was all chaos, and now this... it feels so awkward.”

“Looks like Mr. Zeorge was granted permission to crawl into Hunter Sergio’s body. I just hope our son doesn’t suffer too much from this.”

Aram, hesitating at the collector’s cryptic words, finally spoke up.

“...I refrained from speaking since it seemed like classified knowledge, but with things as they are, I believe we deserve to know about Hunter Sergio’s unique circumstances. Just who is he...?”

With an annoyed tone, Bisa Beul casually replied.

“Ah, it’s nothing. He’s just a disciple and incarnation of the Black Cloak.”

“...Oh my god.”

“Because the Black Cloak loved humans, he tore off his own flesh and blood and sent it to Earth. That’s who Hunter Sergio is. But don’t worry. Though sometimes a non-human persona peeks through because he absorbs all sorts of calamities as a seal, for the most part, he lives as an ‘ordinary human.’ Because the Black Cloak intended it that way.”

“Then... during the mermaid incident, like with the wrathful god, did Hunter Sergio also...?”

“You’ve understood correctly, Bishop Aram.”

To Bisa Beul’s smooth-flowing nonsense, Yoo Seong-Woon glanced toward Garasani.

‘Is that really okay?’

‘He didn’t say anything wrong.’

Sure sounds wrong, though.

‘...No, if you nitpick, technically it is all factual....’

The way it was all strung together just sounded weird. The “portrait of Gio” that Yoo Seong-Woon knew was a friendly neighbor god who roasted sweet potatoes with divine neighbors.

“......”

Now that it’s said like that, I feel like the one who’s corrupted.

“Anyway.”

“You seemed lost in thought.”

“What should we do now?”

Convincing or deceiving people like the Moon Sect about “Hunter Sergio’s” identity could wait. This explanation was enough for now. The immediate priority was managing the situation.

“I told you we shouldn’t have let Gio go alone.”

“? When exactly did you say that, Curator Yoo Seong-Woon?”

Bisa Beul, who had left the choice up to Yoo Seong-Woon, looked confused, but Seong-Woon simply laughed it off. As he said, what mattered now was cleaning up the mess that “Hunter Sergio” and “Zeorge” had stirred up.

“First, we need to assess the situation. How are you feeling, Curator Yoo Seong-Woon?”

“Not speaking in terms of measurable data, but this is the best condition I’ve been in since entering the garden.”

“Given how a gardener’s health is determined by the mood of the garden, and how my eyes just sealed themselves, it’s clear that the master of this garden has entered Hunter Sergio’s body.”

At that, Aram recoiled.

“T-That can’t be! Hunter Sergio already holds the divinity of Wrath within him! If the temperamental master of this garden enters as well...!”

The other priests murmured at her words.

“Wait, the divinity of Wrath...?!”

“Even for a divine avatar, this has never happened!”

“How is he supposed to withstand all that burden...!”

These reactions were only natural. A “divine avatar” is by definition beneath the divinity they carry. If such a being holds two or more immense and unruly mysteries, the body wouldn’t merely rupture.

But once again, Bisa Beul calmed the commotion.

“It’s fine. The avatar of the Black Cloak doesn’t die from things like that.”

“This isn’t about dying! Look here, Collector! I’ve held my tongue until now out of respect for your domain, but even if he’s a divine avatar, if you raised him like a son, then at least...!”

“What nonsense. Not even one, let alone two? Hunter Sergio isn’t a weak human. He’s a work of art far superior. Unlike common humans, he’s already complete. I respectfully ask that you refrain from spreading unfounded rumors about my most cherished masterpiece.”

“You...! Do you seriously not care that Hunter Sergio went off alone to confront the master of this garden?! Are you planning to repeat the Moon Sect’s mistakes?!”

No, correction. It seems he never intended to calm anyone in the first place.

“Wait, everyone calm down....”

“Our guildmaster is just very straightforward... He didn’t mean it with ill intent.”

“More importantly, this isn’t what we should be focusing on right now.”

The collector’s staff smiled awkwardly as they tried to smooth things over. Thanks to their terrifying boss’s unfiltered mouth, their diplomacy skills were improving by the day.

And truly, the staff were innocent. As the priests finally quieted down and began their prayers of repentance, one of them asked:

“...Yes, what’s important now isn’t right or wrong. So, how does the Collector plan to deal with the garden’s master who has possessed Hunter Sergio’s body?”

“What do you mean, ‘deal with’?”

“Well... we must find a way to separate the two and strike only the garden’s master....”

“Why bother, when this is the perfect opportunity?”

Bisa Beul tilted his head with a smile.

“While Hunter Sergio has Zeorge pinned down inside him, we must not miss our chance to strike. From what I’ve observed, his entire reason for being in this garden was to do just that. It’s practically a divine gift for the raid.”

“...What?”

“As you know, opportunities like this don’t come often. Given the nature of the garden’s master, he can exist without a body, but now that there’s a physical form we can hit—this is the time....”

“...That lunatic is really...!!”

And so, the chaos between the two groups dragged on a bit longer.

***

“......”

“......”

Drip.

Blood fell like sweat.

“...Ah....”

“...What the hell is going on?”

“We’re fucked.”

Dan Haera didn’t respond. Jeong Hae-Woon let out a hollow laugh.

“Shit. So this was the plan from the beginning.”

His gaze landed on the massive congregation of frames.

‘Becoming one with the portrait—that was the goal.’

His vision was filled with endless colors.

A painting of someone collapsing and crying, of someone praying with a sacred symbol, of someone smiling as they swung a weapon, of someone screaming in pain in a thorny field, of someone shedding bloody tears from a friend’s betrayal. Paintings filled with the joys and sorrows of humans...

For a moment, the sheer emotional honesty in those human figures plastered across his vision made him frown.

“Looks like the teacher and Zeorge fully merged.”

“...With his personality?”

“He must’ve been really angry. I did this knowing I’d get scolded by him, but I never thought it would go this far. I’m terrified.”

“I mean, it would’ve been nice if you hadn’t done anything terrifying in the first place. But we’ll talk about that later... I didn’t think he was capable of getting angry.”

“Oh, I thought the same. He lived like someone whose dictionary didn’t even have the word ‘anger.’ But the situation’s changed a lot.”

“Mr. Zeorge must’ve done a lot to make it happen.”

To create something that didn’t exist before.

‘...No, maybe it was everything up till now that made him like this....’

The different “Gios” who lived different lives with different purposes. The thirty-year system where only right and wrong existed. The students who sinned, loved, and were understood, yet remained unforgiven. And Zeorge, who both loved and hated humanity.

‘If even one thing had been different, this wouldn’t have happened.’

As they say, karma and the rules of mystery had led to this moment.

Dan Haera wiped the flowing blood with her hand. As if she had been soaked in sweat after a long workout, there was no part of her that wasn’t bleeding. Once she cleared her sight, she looked to Jeong Hae-Woon.

“Were you one of the garden’s targets too?”

“Anyone who came here would be. But yeah...”

Jeong Hae-Woon wiped the strange-colored blood from his chin and nodded.

“We’re pretty rare as sinners go.”

In the midst of that massive and beautiful cluster of paintings, the largest frame—

With profound sorrow and base joy,

It watches you.

And it glared down at the humans.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrr...!!”

It revealed its hostility.

At last, the final enemy appeared.