chapter 124

The Painter Who Draws Dungeons - Episode 124

Gio nodded.

“If that’s all, may I leave?”

“Why won’t you listen a bit more.”

“It’s heavy enough.

I can’t breathe.”

“My, what a piece of whining.”

“My limit for violence is up to friendship fights and lovers’ quarrels.”

“The main point isn’t over yet, so wait.”

“I’m good at that.”

“You truly are diligent.”

Pleased with such a commendable listener, ‘Argio’ continued his explanation about himself.

“And so the wicked god called ‘Argio’ was born, and the world approached destruction even faster.

Countless saints’ souls—too many to count—gained divinity... and do you think that would stay quiet?”

Humans said the wicked god used evil monsters to torment them, and in truth, that is what happened.

“To make it easy for you to understand, should I compare it to a Demon King?”

“I’ll understand it as the Demon King from a fairy tale where a kidnapped princess and a brave hero appear.”

“It’s not that different—since it’s roughly lumped together and expressed that way.”

A peaceful world, and the only ominous region.

From there, the Demon King spread a plague through schemes and used monsters to torment humans.

It continued for so long that it could be thoroughly recorded even in history books.

Humans began living with bated breath under the Demon King’s tyranny, and the world came to be ruled by horrific monsters.

“When the Demon King’s tyranny reached its peak, what should appear next?”

“The hero?”

“As the wicked god appeared and time passed, those who would seal this evil beast began to appear.”

“It’s so typical I don’t know whether to call it a response...”

“In the end, they succeeded in sealing this ‘Argio.’”

In the process, the heroes even came to learn the truth of the Black Forest, but well.

“That part isn’t so important.”

In the end, they hid the origin story of the wicked god’s birth.

“Perhaps they could not accept the foolish mistake committed by ancestors they believed were good.

If the existence they believed was the world’s evil was in fact made by human hands, wouldn’t that shock be immense?”

“Do you resent them?”

“No, to begin with, they weren’t the lunatics who burned my home and family.

They aren’t a target I should be enraged at.

More than anything, being crushed beneath countless souls and having to carry on rage I never wanted—was not something I could welcome either...”

‘Argio’ said calmly.

“I’m grateful.”

Rage had to be wholly his own.

“Do you know how dreadful it is to vent rage that isn’t even your share?

Do you know how stupid it feels to get angry for something with no value at all?

I came to understand why a wicked god is called a wicked god—imagine having to enjoy massacres I never wanted.”

It made no sense.

“I know I did not live so well that I could receive a god’s mercy and grace, but isn’t this a bit too much?

Slaughtering those without fighting spirit and without sin is not my joy.

What meaning is there in killing a terrified child who knows nothing?”

“Surprisingly normal words...”

“Rage must be equal for you to feel its value and its joy.

But the saints’ pain and despair were far too great for me alone to stop.

The rage of those who had to die horribly in darkness without even knowing why was far too vast.”

But to him, rage was not something that flimsy.

“I affirm myself.

I affirm all that I am, so life is enjoyable and there is nothing to hold back from.

So the rage I feel, too, should have a value worthy of it, and...”

In that sense, he was grateful.

“They call them heroes, but they were no different from sacrifices.

Dragged to a battlefield with no responsibility at all simply because they were strong and talented, they had to seal the Demon King and suffer much pain and sorrow in the process.”

“...”

“They did not want to fight.

They were not warriors, but individual humans—someone’s family, and someone’s friend.

And to get back their happy daily lives with them, to clean up a mistake that wasn’t even theirs, they had to hurt so much.”

How can something be so contrary to reason?

“But in the end, the world was destroyed.

Isn’t it only natural?

To begin with, this wicked god was made by humans, and even if you seal him, do you think the rage of the beasts that remain will disappear?”

“Then how did Mr. Argio’s world perish?”

“It perished while humans and beasts fought so miserably and so vulgarly that there was no point distinguishing between them.

It was a very childish fight.

Those who remain by now will have long since degenerated into monsters, and...”

Tsk, ‘Argio’ clicked his tongue.

“Humans committed evil acts while using me as an excuse so many times.

Even if their lover cheated, they babbled that the wicked god tempted them, and even after killing someone they said the wicked god led them down that evil path, and every reason for fighting with the neighbor’s house and for war breaking out with the neighboring village was all said to be the fault of this cruel beast?”

In the end, their shifting of responsibility birthed the wicked god and made him even stronger.

“They must not have realized that such laziness would also become a thing that stokes the wicked god’s ferocity.

Thanks to that, the story of ‘Argio’ was recorded in history in an even more dreadful form, and in step with those records and memories, ‘Argio’ became a very cruel monster.”

“So you got it back in return.”

“So stop using me as an excuse so much.

Isn’t that so?

They inflated and fattened our bodies and even made us ill-tempered.

If they hadn’t been ashamed of the beasts they birthed in their own bellies and had revealed the saints’ secret, perhaps anything might have been fine.”

And so ‘Argio’ asked.

“Listen, Gio.

You’re a friend who resembles me very much.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want to get angry only for my share.”

That was what ‘Argio’ wanted.

“Those who want to fight can fight me, and those who have sinned against me can offer blood to me.

I am an honorable warrior with my family, and I am a greedy one who cannot be satisfied unless I accomplish all the things I want.”

That was his wish.

“I’ll give you myself, so take care of my family’s descendants.”

“These ‘Gio’ people keep talking about their own family.”

“The one called Giovanni before me wished to support his father, didn’t he?

I’m similar.”

“How should I take care of them?”

“Go to the ‘Animal Kingdom’ you drew and bestow mercy on the pitiful beasts.”

“I don’t think I’m in a position to bestow mercy.”

“No, you have ample qualifications.”

And.

“More than anything, stop this... stop this crazy wicked god’s venting.”

“Pardon?

Me?”

“I believe you can do it.”

“Good heavens.”

“Is that what you call the source?

How reliable.”

“There is a misunderstanding—I don’t know how to deal with a dangerous existence like a wicked god.”

“I’ll take even this as a witty joke.”

“You really only hear what you want to hear.

You’re definitely a ‘Gio,’ too.”

“This narrow hearing is one of the tricks that let me survive in the Black Forest.”

Laughing as if it were nothing, ‘Argio’ said,

“Don’t worry. Your vessel is larger than this ‘Argio’s’ vessel, so there’s no way you won’t be able to handle it.

I’m only the last personality to die who came out here—if you want to become one with ‘Argio,’ then in the end you’ll become one with those countless lunatics as well.”

“So I shouldn’t be soft, after all?

I’m not confident.”

“Didn’t I say it’s venting?

In the end, the wraiths of the Black Forest are, at most, children just past ten.

No matter how long they lived, they didn’t even make it past thirty.

I’m asking you to take the venting of such immature things with an adult heart and let it pass.”

“...”

A question arose in Gio, and he asked,

“Then how old are you?”

“I died at the age of twenty-four.”

“You were covered by a mask, so I didn’t know you were that young.”

So he died around college age.

“For that age, you’re quite... mature.”

“Isn’t it that the culture of the Earthlings you remember is simply much slower?”

‘Argio’ tilted his head.

“In Seo Gio’s memories, Earthlings would pout and throw tantrums even past the age of twenty. It’s culturally different in many ways from my dimension, where from fifteen you’re treated as an adult who must shoulder a household.”

“Fifteen is middle school, Mr. Argio.”

“Think of it as a cultural difference.

It’s a matter of an entirely different dimension, so it can’t be helped that even the brain’s structure is different.

Anyway, since you’re older than me, I’ll trust you to handle it well on your own.”

He laughed.

“Because in the end, I’ll be with you too.”

“...I don’t want to become antisocial.”

“I think you’re already sufficiently antisocial at this point.”

“How can you say that when I’m such a model student?”

“They say on Earth there’s a limit even to self-delusion, don’t they?”

“...”

The haunted portrait wilted.

“...Mr. Argio is right.”

“I’m very glad to have won you over.”

* * *

“...”

The Animal Kingdom_Argio

“This mood... isn’t very good.”

Argio’s Quest

“To think there’s such a quiet world.”

“Ggur?”

“Yeah, I don’t like it much.”

Control of the Wicked God

A Sweet Rain in the Parched Forest

“It feels like I’ve guzzled a bellyful of bad liquor...”

Assimilation Rate 1%

“That’s right.”

“Kkuk.”

“This could be fun, too.”

“Ggururur?”

“And I’ve even got a cute son.”

Lying in bed, Gio lunged and pulled the small waterbird into his arms.

“Peace isn’t as bad as I thought.”

The idiots screaming in rage beside his ear were gone now.

Control of the Wicked God

Assimilation Rate 21.1%

“...”

“...”

“Isn’t there anywhere to fight?”

“Koong-koong-koong-koong-koong!!!”

“Ayaaya...”

He lost his senses and got scolded by his son.

* * *

While Gio was gathering up his mind as ‘Argio.’

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing.”

“You can draw too?”

“Want to see?”

“Yeah.”

The youngest of the Cha family, Cha Isol, was chatting with his partner.

“Ta-da.”

“...Well, you did say you draw, but I don’t think you ever said you draw well.”

“At this level, didn’t I draw everything that needed to be attached properly?”

“I don’t know what’s attached.”

“Look, this is the cloak, and...”

“Ah.”

Cha Isol’s partner, Iruda, nodded.

“Is it a Black Cloak, by any chance?”

“Yeah, now that you know, doesn’t it look pretty convincing?”

“It’s definitely convincing in that it’s black.”

“Iruda, at least lie and tell me I drew well.”

“You draaaaw well.”

“This is the first friend I’ve met who can’t even lie.”

Cha Isol laughed heartily.

“Now, look again.”

“I don’t think I need to.”

“This is the arm.

This is the leg, and this is the torso, and...”

“Uh-huh, yeah.

I see.”

“This is the eye.”

“...”

Iruda tilted her head.

“...The eye?”

“Yeah, the eye.”

“...You mean a person’s eyeball, right?”

“Did I draw it that badly?”

“That’s not the issue...”

The eye was too big.

“...”

So big that it went far beyond a human face, a human body—drawn behind them.

“...I thought it was a kind of halo.”

“Huh?

Does it look like that?”

“Usually, when you say ‘eye,’ it’s attached to a person’s face, like ours.”

“There are people it isn’t attached to.”

“People it isn’t...”

Iruda looked again at the picture stained in black.

“...It’s still a person, right?”

“Black Cloak is a person too.”

“I don’t think so.”

Both the Black Cloak in rumors, and the Black Cloak in this picture.

“...Mm.”

Just a moment ago, she’d thought it was simply a badly drawn picture, but.

Seeing the many eyes, huge and complexly intertwined, it became a little eerie.

“Cha Isol, you said... you don’t have a god you serve right now.”

“Yeah, I don’t.

I still don’t know what I should do yet, and I’m not confident either.”

“Yeah?”

And yet.

“I see.”

From that ugly drawing, she could feel a ‘gaze.’

A gaze of lower temperature than what she was receiving, an ominous gaze.

“Fantasy, Modern,”