The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 225
Quite some time had passed.
The wolves would grow wary quickly, then relax just as quickly, only to become frightened again just as suddenly—repeating the cycle.
“It’s because everyone’s turned into cowards.”
Arka, the chieftain’s friend, said that and apologized.
“I’m sorry, my friend. Just ten years ago, the wolves weren’t this cowardly, but as time passed, their bodies weakened, and their minds deteriorated along with them. It’s a sad thing.”
“How could anyone stay the same in an environment like this? Even if everything else remains the same, living creatures change. And the world now is far too cruel to all who live. You must have endured much.”
“I’m glad you understand.”
As Arka let out a sigh, the chieftain, Gargar, came over.
“Don’t say such depressing things to a guest.”
“Well, since you never listen to my ramblings, I have no choice but to grab the guest and talk his ears off.”
“We wolves have our pride, you know...”
“Gargar, pride doesn’t fill an empty belly.”
“Kkheunng...”
Gargar’s groan sounded somewhere between a whimper and a growl. Supposedly, age didn’t hold much meaning among the wolves, and they didn’t concern themselves with it in their relationships—but still, it seemed a seven-year-old had trouble outmatching the experience of someone who was thirty-five.
Argio felt a warm stirring in his chest.
“You two get along very well.”
“You often use that kind of... phrasing.”
“Did it not suit the moment?”
“It suited it so well, it made my fur stand on end.”
In human terms, it was like saying it gave him chills. Gio laughed.
“Your fur still seems perfectly fine to me.”
“It’s just a manner of speaking.”
Once again groaning, the wolf chieftain quietly lay beside Gio, who was much smaller in stature compared to him. It seemed he was being considerate of the sleeping pups.
Despite his massive frame, he made not a sound. It was easy to see why he had become chieftain at the age of seven.
“You're always so silent.”
“You hand out praise far too easily.”
“There’s no wolf as quiet and swift as you.”
“Why else would I be the chieftain?”
“I knew that. I just wanted to say it.”
“You say strange things again...”
Mumbling like that, Gargar slowly closed his eyes. Gio, already accustomed though it hadn’t been long, gently stroked Gargar’s forehead and scratched under his chin. Gargar’s face relaxed in clear pleasure.
“Mmm, good. Very good... under the ear, too, please. Oh, yes, there. That’s nice.”
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Argio teasingly scolded him and kept scratching. Arka, watching Gargar with eyes full of amusement, lay down beside Gio as well.
He didn’t mean to ask for a scratch himself—it was just that the scene was quite entertaining.
“They say humans are good at scratching fur. Seems true.”
“Humans possess the perfect form to bring relief to all beasts.”
“When you say things like that...”
Arka whispered.
“You don’t sound human.”
“Oh? Then what do I look like?”
“Something pretending to be human.”
“That might be true.”
“That might be true.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I embrace all forms of diversity.”
Said nicely, he was open-minded. Said harshly, he had no convictions.
Having evolved into a portrait, Gio had long since lost any claim to being a “normal human.” And yet, he himself still believed he wasn’t so far gone. His mind remained open.
“Anything’s fine.”
People could see him however they wanted.
“We all live trapped in our own little worlds, don’t we?”
“Your love for obscure, ambiguous words doesn’t sound very human either.”
“Then maybe I’m not human.”
He didn’t need to be neatly categorized.
“......”
“......”
“I respect you both.”
Gio had no intention of defining himself as a single thing. That had always been true—and it would remain so. Why should someone so versatile have to be confined to a single identity?
That wouldn’t be fun at all.
***
A fox arrived, having heard the rumors.
“Would you be willing to show us some mercy as well?”
“Well now, this is quite the reaction.”
Gio marveled.
“So even the foxes here know how to take human form?”
“Ah, it’s crude, but it’s our best magic. Our ancestors used it often during the wars with humans. I guess it became hereditary, haha!”
“But why choose to appear as a human to come see me?”
“Well, to gain your favor, of course! Living beings open their hearts most quickly when they resemble each other. There are exceptions, of course, but it’s a long-standing, universal trait among lifeforms.”
“Aha, I see.”
Contrary to the sly image he had imagined when thinking of a con artist, the fox chieftain was surprisingly clear-spoken and refreshingly blunt. Argio quietly observed him.
‘...And yet, to feel this much like a conman—it’s impressive in a way.’
Was it the slanted eyes? That paper-thin smile? His expression played a part, but the overall vibe was slick and suspicious.
Still, that made it interesting.
“So you mimicked a human and came to find me?”
“This may be terribly rude for a first meeting, but our bellies are just as empty as the wolves’!”
The fox chieftain, disguised as a human woman, showed a pained expression.
“We have young ones who haven’t reached adulthood yet too—not just the wolves. The adults, who’ve built up some resistance, won’t die from eating anything... but the pups still have very weak immune systems. They’re born with some basic resistance thanks to their mothers, but only just enough not to die the moment they’re born.”
“That’s quite a sad story.”
“Yes. To be honest, I’m telling you this because I want your sympathy. But I’m not lying. The fox tribe isn’t as hardy as the wolves. And we can’t purify poison like the crows with their research.”
The fox chieftain gave an awkward smile.
“The best we can do is feed poisons in small doses at the right time to build tolerance—but even that ‘right time’ often never comes, and too many pups die. At this rate, we foxes too... will go extinct. So I came here.”
“Hm, fox cubs are quite adorable. I’d love to see your cute little ones. Would you invite me? I imagine if I visit under the chieftain’s name, it’ll help ease the others’ anxiety.”
“Ah, of course! If you’ll allow it, we’ll serve you with everything we have!”
The skill with which he rubbed his hands together was astounding.
“......”
Though he was trembling.
“My friend, Gargar.”
“...Not sure if I should get involved in this situation.”
“I’m only asking for another opinion.”
“All right, I’ll listen.”
“Do you think it’s all right if I make more friends here?”
“...That...”
Chieftain Gargar looked at the ever-smiling red-clad human and the fox chieftain Laami, who was trembling pale every time Gio looked away. It was the first time he’d seen his nemesis react like that.
‘But I understand.’
Gargar nudged Gio’s back with his nose.
“...Help them.”
“Oh? Are you sure?”
“We never had a future anyway. All we could do was find the least painful way to die... and the warmest, coziest grave.”
Seven years old—certainly not much, but he had become chieftain for a reason. Often clumsy, yes, but never a coward.
And yet, before Gio, he often tucked his tail like one. Not because he didn’t understand what that meant. But they had no choice. The future was dark, and the hand extended toward them—red though it was—was gentle.
“We want a future.”
Wolves could do anything for their families.
“Only with a future can we choose. Only then can we have even the slightest chance. We already know that if we just keep dying off like cowards, we won’t be able to do anything.”
“So then.”
Argio smiled.
“You’ll take the hand of the evil god?”
He didn’t believe they were unaware.
‘Maybe they didn’t realize it at first—but surely things have seemed increasingly strange.’
An extinct race—humans—wrapped in silk and treasure suddenly appearing alone? That was already absurd.
And from the start, he had asked about the world’s history. The parts he was interested in were all about the “evil god.” Even if records of his appearance were lost, there were enough hints to strike fear.
‘Like student Chara once said—some were afraid of me just for being a portrait.’
Did it feel like he was on another level?
‘When I stacked poison-free meat into a mountain in a world where such a thing can’t exist.’
Able to traverse dimensions. Likely once a historical being. Powerful enough to make even proud wolves tuck their tails. A god of blood. A divine, wicked being.
“......”
“......”
The evil god of ancient history—or at least something close to it.
“You all seem quite afraid of me?”
“...That’s true.”
Laami, the fox chieftain, tried to hide his fear. For all his weakness, his mind moved faster than any other race’s. And yet, here he was, in his own body, as chieftain.
‘He must be desperate.’
Even conflicts between beast races had nearly disappeared in the past decade. They could no longer afford to fight when they barely had strength to raise their young.
Especially the foxes, always most anxious about their possible extinction.
And now, suddenly—this “human.”
“I’m still scared. But...”
“But?”
That gentle, coaxing voice led the chieftain to make a decision.
“You treated us as friends.”
Wolves don’t abandon family. They don’t betray friends.
“So... can’t you help us just a bit more?”
“Hm...”
“Survival means nothing if the wolves are alone. The damned foxes, the proud crows—they all must survive. Otherwise, what’s the point of enduring so long?”
“You speak rather prettily.”
“F-Fine, forget it if you don’t want to!”
“Ahaha!”
Gio ruffled the wolf’s face with both hands. He was too proud and too adorable to resist.
“You really are a coward!”
What fear could a helpless human possibly inspire?
“Fox chieftain, what should I call you?”
“L-Laami is fine! That’s my real name, not an alias. If you give us a chance, we’ll do our best to win your favor!”
“I don’t extract vows so easily. You can rest easy.”
Gio was a rather gentle evil god.
‘Feels kind of nice to know my infamy has spread this far.’
He never denied being the evil god. He loved it. The river of blood born from his own and his enemies’ blood was a sacred wickedness—something to be welcomed, and something that came naturally to him.
Unaware of the future trouble it would bring, Gio smiled in satisfaction.
“I thought I’d been forgotten by history—but to know everyone remembers me feels... rather nice.”
“You have strange tastes...”
“Gargar, if you have something to say, speak up.”
“N-No, I didn’t say anything.”
“Well, if my friend says so, then it must be true.”
Argio turned again to the fox chieftain, Laami.
“Lead the way.”
“Ah...”
“I’ll give the help you seek.”
There was only one thing Gio wanted in return.
“Be my friend.”
Let’s live happily.
***
Left alone, Gargar was approached by the flapping of wings—a crow.
“Was that truly your decision?”
“Elder Valf.”
It was Valf, the chieftain of the crow tribe.
“There was an overwhelming stench of blood on him. He dispenses mercy with joy, yet holds not a sliver of goodwill for his enemies. If he really is the ‘Forgotten Wrath’... his feelings toward us are likely not so kind.”
“......”
“Even if he isn’t the ‘Forgotten Wrath,’ it makes no difference. That thing is not human. It is nature imitating humanity. It is wrath, pain. And it lies effortlessly. That makes it not divine obedience, but wicked rebellion. Can you still accept it?”
“I chose the future.”
“I see...”
Valf sighed with pity.
“Do you really think he can distinguish between friend and slave?”
Gargar blinked slowly at the elder who had helped him so much over the years. He, too, feared the brilliant, blood-scented being pretending to be human.
‘If only he were a ghost, it would have been easier.’
But Gio’s blood ran warm. His heart beat. He had a tongue to taste, a stomach to fill. These were the privileges of the living. And Gargar had grown weak before that fact.
In the end, Gargar affirmed the existence of that bright-red being.
“He gave blessings to our young.”
“Perhaps a wicked blessing.”
“More than that... he smelled like sunlight.”
“...Sunlight?”
“A savory, sweet scent.”
Gargar closed his eyes.
“Warm, soft, fluffy...”
He could still smell it clearly.
“...A comforting scent—one I wanted to swallow whole.”
“Wolves are so hopelessly instinctive, it’s almost foolish.”
The crow let out a long sigh.
“I understand your choice.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I must watch more. If we want a future too.”
“Go safely.”
“You as well.”
Flutter―!
The crow took off.
“......”
Gargar looked toward the direction where the foxes were.
“...Anything is better than this.”
Better pain and anger than a world of only death.
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