The Artist Who Paints Dungeon-Chapter 365

This was the era of Sergio’s stay-at-home loser phase.

“Aaah, this isn’t it...!!”

He was deeply immersed in his “Demon King Prevention Project.” 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

In truth, by that point, the word “prevention” no longer suited the situation. Maybe he’d gotten too comfortable in his cozy little corner—while leisurely roasting sweet potatoes of every variety, the group had already turned into a full-blown Demon King army.

‘Sure, my students may have founded a cult, but at least they haven’t fully crossed the line yet...!’

Well, actually, considering they were already worshiping some nobody as a god, it might be fair to say they’d at least grazed that line. But still.

‘I need to show some results before they spiral completely out of control.’

At first, Sergio had simply chuckled, thinking “They’re really going to regret this dark history someday”—but now, he was starting to feel the crisis himself.

Looking closer, it wasn’t that the kids were staying in line of their own volition—they were just watching his reactions. And even that was weakening. As absurd as it sounded, their project of turning an ordinary man into a god was actually progressing.

Fueled by that urgency, Sergio threw himself into his artistic efforts...

“I wish a ninja would pop out and teach me Shadow Clone Jutsu, then disappear.”

...but it wasn’t easy.

‘Dear heavens above.’

At the time, Sergio was trying to find a way for both himself and his students to stay sane. For himself, so he wouldn’t get careless and cause accidents due to the overwhelming power he held. And for the students, so they wouldn’t go off the rails with their excessive role-playing.

That’s how he came up with the idea of a “clone technique.”

“Please, heavens, help me...”

It had been a deranged idea from the start. A second self that was still him? Like a hot iced Americano—a fundamentally contradictory nonsense concept. And yet Sergio was serious about making it happen.

This “teacher”—this clone—was like a savings account. Just like how Sergio had tucked away tiny amounts during peaceful times, he was trying to store a version of himself he could withdraw in a crisis.

He thought about giving up. But he couldn’t.

‘...My students only listen to me, so it has to be something like this to even work. I’m the type to half-ignore others, too, so no matter how I think about it, it has to be another Sergio to at least pull some weight...’

Along the way, he tried a few crazy things.

“...? Is this... a parallel universe?”

He nearly summoned a different world’s “Gio.”

“Why is Sergio so cold-hearted?”

He almost created a totally ruthless AI Sergio.

“Ooh, this one’s kind of fun...”

He even nearly split like a planarian.

“No—snap out of it, Sergio.”

Slap slap.

Every time, Sergio had to slap himself to reassert control over his own brain.

‘If this keeps up, the future’s in danger.’

He nearly gave in several times, thinking “Well, this could kinda work...” But no. This wasn’t about split personalities. It wasn’t something you could just delete or leave untouched—it was a precarious balance. He had to recognize that just because it was interesting didn’t mean it was okay.

Eventually, he did manage to produce something resembling a result.

“......”

Hm.

‘So I actually went and did it, huh.’

Even after pulling it off, he found it hard to believe. But that “somewhat” qualifier gave him a little leeway. The rush of events had left some rough edges.

Anyway, the result was what came to be known as “Gio’s Portrait.”

“......”

And maybe because of those rough edges, there were a few oddities.

“...What’s going on here?”

His peaceful “portrait” began to experience anomalies.

“I never painted anything like this...”

The so-called “Gio’s Portrait” was drawn on top of the “forest hut.” The “forest hut” had been useful in many ways—he’d taken it with him when he fled the school, and it had helped significantly with the cloning technique.

Thanks to that, “Gio’s Portrait” also carried the functions of the forest hut. Naturally, the interior of the hut and the nearby flora and fauna remained as he had painted them. But then something strange occurred.

Things appeared that he had neither drawn nor ever seen before.

“This is...”

For example, a flower bud sparkling like a star.

‘...Milky Way Merry?’

Plants from another world that he’d never painted.

And more: unfamiliar obsidian trees, incomprehensible fruit with unknown growth cycles. These hadn’t just appeared all at once. They settled in naturally, over days or weeks, like an incoming tide.

Before long, Sergio figured out the reason.

“......”

He had become something enormous.

‘I’ve gotten too big. These must’ve been pulled in just by being inside me.’

“Gio’s Portrait” was a world that manifested himself in a different form—so it made sense that strange things would start appearing within it. Maybe incomprehensible to a human, but the conclusion was clear.

“...Well, it’s fun, so who cares.”

It was like he could hear life getting more dynamic.

‘At least I’ll never starve to death.’

In this bleak apocalyptic world, he felt quite proud of his survival instincts. On closer inspection, everything blooming near the hut was either edible or drawable. Even in chaos, he still had his priorities straight.

While Sergio had drawn some of the flora and fauna himself, most had drifted in naturally. When he finally discovered a spring as beautiful as a gemstone, he realized the “portrait” was nearing completion.

That is—both the literal portrait, and the cult named Portrait.

“......”

The way the spring sparkled so dazzlingly made it clear: the students were dead set on turning Sergio into a god. And they were dangerously close to succeeding.

‘I need to reflect on this.’

This is why I suck at multitasking.

While he’d been focused on creating the clone, he’d neglected the outside world. At that point, Sergio started wrapping up the remaining work. Now that he had made the most important “Gio,” all that remained was refining the details in his students.

“Too many branches...”

It was a kind of pruning.

‘Being too talented just makes life harder, kids.’

He was preparing to divide his abilities and distribute them among his students. One as “Promise.” One as “Friend.” Another as “Punishment.”

Once again: he didn’t want to become a god.

‘Haera’s already had something like an awakening. Eun-Hye is just a civilian, so I’ll need to restrict her power... But Seo-Hee and Hae-Woon seemed more than willing to share my burden.’

This way, Sergio wouldn’t become unnecessarily powerful, and the students would only change within a limited range. Adding “Gio’s Portrait” on top of that made his main profession fully safeguarded.

‘If I stop here, I shouldn’t end up turning into some grandiose “god” like they want. Same goes for them. If this works, maybe their warped minds will settle a little...’

The only problem was... he hadn’t told them.

“......”

“There he is, there he is!!”

“...Ah, crap.”

“The god of the Portrait is here!!”

He hadn’t expected to face death before even explaining things.

‘If I’d known, I would’ve °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° briefed them.’

He hadn’t said anything because he was sure his students wouldn’t like the plan—but that turned out to be his mistake. He knew there were superstitions forming about him, but he hadn’t realized it had gone this far.

And in hindsight, it made sense. His students controlled quite a bit of information. Sergio had been pretty relaxed about that, but yeah... of course it’d come back to bite him. Watching them now bring hostages to confront him, he could only sigh.

“O divine one, enshrine us in your canvas!”

“Please, let us dwell in a happy painting...!”

“Grant us eternal life!”

Some sought blessings.

“That thing brought Earth’s downfall!”

“He’s a twisted devil—he’ll drag us all into ruin!”

“If we kill the god of the Portrait, Earth can return to what it was...!”

Some sought punishment.

“Come to us! Grant us a perfect utopia...!”

“You owe it to us, don’t you?”

“If you don’t want to see these children die—then hurry!!”

They’d all gathered, yet even among themselves, their goals were wildly different. Sergio paused, wondering whether he even belonged here.

“...Hmm. What should I do.”

He could resist.

But these people, while petty and wicked, had prepared meticulously. After some quick calculations, he figured it was better to just let them win this round to avoid worse consequences.

‘I won’t be able to hold out until the kids return... But it won’t take too long either. Even if I end up half-dead now, I should still be able to reach my goal in the end.’

As long as he didn’t die, it was fine.

Sure, the plan was getting a bit twisted—but life never goes exactly as planned. That’s what makes it interesting. So even now, Sergio wasn’t particularly shocked.

He simply accepted it.

“...Happiness, eternal life, utopia. That’s what you want?”

“Yes, please, give it to us...!”

“You all have peculiar tastes.”

He understood them.

They were afraid. The world had changed so suddenly—their desire for safety had become obsession. Even before all this, people turned to gods when things got hard. How many fanatics must’ve been born in this new world?

These people were clearly villains, but both their origins and their goals were predictable.

“Honestly, I’ve always thought that kind of stuff sounded boring.”

So yes, he understood—but being mean was a separate matter.

“If it gives you indigestion, I take no responsibility.”

“...Into the canvas...”

“If there’s a hell, I’ll see you there soon.”

“Enshrine us in your canvas...”

“Ah, since we’ve met like this anyway, let me just say...”

There was one thing he had to get off his chest.

“That line is so cringe.”

Why is the embarrassment always my problem?

***

“......”

“You look like you’ve got something to say.”

“Didn’t you... resist more than that?”

“Me?”

Well, from the start—

“I didn’t have the strength to.”

He was nothing more than a stay-at-home loser with zero muscle.

“I guess since I’ve been living as ‘Hunter Sergio’ with help from all those ‘Gios,’ I forgot. But the Sergio you all knew—your teacher—wasn’t built for fighting. I was a guy who gave lectures and drew pictures. What were you expecting?”

“Ah...”

“Sure, I had some fancy abilities. If I’d used them well, maybe I could’ve won. But telling a guy who spent his whole life drawing snacks to suddenly fight? I’m not that amazing.”

Even if a bread knife is made of metal, it’s still just for slicing bread—what else could it do?

More importantly, the opponents were way too well-prepared. He was a support-type producer with a broken unlimited-materials skill. The ones who stormed in were professional fighters. And there were hostages. A fair fight wasn’t even possible.

So he just made the least damaging choice.

“Anyway, once I became a half-corpse, things got kind of tangled.”

Gio continued.

“You guys made a few mistakes. Some of you also absorbed my abilities. And because of that, ‘Gio’s Portrait’ got corrupted into a ‘system’—and it took over 30 years to regain its identity.”

“...It was corrupted...”

“I guess what you thought of as ‘Teacher’ and what I thought of as ‘Teacher’ weren’t the same. Because of that, you ended up absorbing more of my power than I’d planned. I didn’t raise you to become such boring adults...”

Still, it was lucky he had restricted the powers using “Promise,” “Friend,” and “Punishment.” If unchecked versions of Sergio had spawned, Earth would’ve been doomed. He was glad he’d prepped in advance.

“At least my students all became major political figures. That part made me proud.”

“...Were there other parts of the plan that went wrong?”

“Oh, sure. Like how the system was created through your Promise, and how the memories got erased as a result?”

“...That...”

“I tried giving away snacks for free, but while I was gone, you all decided to pay for them. I was just going to give them out.”

“......”

“And it’s kind of funny that you ended up taking more than I meant to give.”

Dan Haera, silent for a moment, spoke again in a quiet voice.

“...Then, does that mean your memories too... were paid as part of the Promise?”

“Ah, that’s true. But it’s fine—I got refunded.”

“...Sorry?”

“You heard me right.”

“...Wait. Are you saying... the Promise of Eternity has been broken?”

“That too, yes.”

Gio, back in full teacher mode, calmly explained.

“See this?”

He pulled out a seal.

“If you were really keeping tabs on me, I wonder if this was in your reports.”

“...I heard people around you sometimes received letters with that seal.”

“Yeah, this is what I got in return.”

He placed the seal on the table.

“To put it another way—it’s like getting a tax refund after overpaying. But instead of cash, it came in the form of a gift voucher... with interest...”

“I think I get what you’re saying...”

“That’s how reality and mysticism work. You can only exchange equivalent gifts and payments. But with this seal, I could give out gifts from within the portrait freely.”

Without the seal, all gifts demanded repayment. He hadn’t tested it, but he had a strong feeling that breaking this rule wouldn’t end well for either side. That was how mystic rules worked—any imbalance would trigger a penalty.

“And honestly... I think I got a little extra in the refund.”

That’s probably why the system—better attuned to the mystic laws than memory-wiped Gio—had gifted him the seal. Or more precisely, it had shaped his “refund value” into that form for easy use.

“I guess you could say... even the system became a kind of teacher for me. Once I got used to the mystic rules, it started talking to me a lot less.”

“......”

“We got along decently well.”

“...Yes. I suppose so.”

“Still kind of ridiculous, though.”

With his usual blank face, Gio looked at Dan Haera.

“Can you believe all the stuff I was trying to avoid ended up happening anyway?”

He’d tried not to link with an alternate-dimension Gio. Tried not to become a heartless AI. Tried to avoid splitting his ego.

And yet he’d experienced all of it firsthand.

“Plus, the system version of Sergio had zero empathy. Wouldn’t merge with me at all. I guess that was your influence too... But yeah, I guess in practice a textbook-like system was more useful than a snack-dropping portrait that showed up in alleys...”

“Please don’t say it like that.”

“Anyway, maybe the system agreed, since it refused to merge. I thought a second Sergio would be born from my split ego—but no, I got an AI Sergio instead. Our clashing perspectives slowed down my recovery, too.”

Of course, there were other reasons as well.

“But, well...”

Gio blinked slowly.

“...In the end, some of what I wanted still came true.”

“......”

“That’s probably why I’m not angry.”

“...We were...”

Dan Haera said in a flat, emotionless tone,

“We were completely out of line.”

“Everyone lives like that.”

“To create the system, we tormented you for days without letting you die. It was all out of selfishness. You taught us so well—and yet we became such bad adults.”

“Yeah. That’s how it seemed.”

“Weren’t you the Black Cloak who punishes the wicked?”

“Well, there were a few events like that, but it’s kind of a distorted rumor.”

“I’ll accept my punishment. Please, give it to me...”

“......”

Gio hesitated, then finally spoke.

“...Do I have to?”

Do I really have to be the one to do this?

“I’ve already worked hard as a system for over 30 years. What more do you want from me?”

“...Huh?”

“Listen, Haera.”

Punishment... was emotional labor.

“I mean, what is ideal punishment? If someone hits you, is hitting them back justice? If someone ruins a family, is ruining their life justice? Even deciding those standards is presumptuous, isn’t it?”

Gio got a little more honest.

“Mostly, I’m just tired.”

“I... I understand, but...”

“There’s nothing in this for me. We’ve already talked it out. Do we really need to bring up punishment now?”

“I know this doesn’t align with your temperament, but still...”

“You’re seeing me as too soft. This isn’t about temperament—it’s about mood. And right now, I’m just not in the mood.”

“But you do believe in justice, don’t you?”

“Specifically, the kind of justice where I don’t have to get blood on my hands. Like when a bad guy gets struck by lightning in the street...”

“...Ah, so it’s more... specific taste.”

“I’m a cowardly adult who avoids unpleasant things whenever possible. Even if it’s righteous, I don’t like being the one to hand out punishment.”

Gio asked,

“You want me to do all that high-effort, zero-reward emotional labor?”

Are you serious?

“I know you’ve done wrong. I know bad adults need to be scolded eventually. I just don’t want to be the one to do it.”

“......”

“Even just imagining it drains me. Is that petty?”

“...No, I... I don’t know.”

“I believe in karma.”

He trusted that the laws of mysticism would deliver punishment at the appropriate time.

Probably.

***

Is this... death?

“Meow?”

A soul?

***

“...!”

Back on Earth, Joo-Hyun suddenly shivered from a creeping chill.

‘Something... feels ominous...’

Someone approached him.

“Apostle, is something wrong?”

“...No, Ms. Canary. Also, I’m not an apostle...”

“Our followers are waiting.”

“No, I...”

“The disciples of the Portrait have submitted a new request.”

“...Let’s go.”

The answer came almost reflexively.

He hadn’t meant to do this. But Joo-Hyun couldn’t stand to watch these conscience-less leeches suck his poor friend dry anymore. Ignoring the faint regret in his heart, he moved.

And regretted it again.

“The Apostle is eating!!”

“Ahh, the Apostle of the Portrait...!”

“Enshrine him in the canvas!!”

Again, and he meant it—

“...Everyone, please take your seats.”

—he really hadn’t meant for this to happen.