He stood on the grassy hills as he stared at the ensuing chaos across the city. A part of him felt guilty at the widespread death and destruction, but in his defense, he didn’t think it’d reach this far.

It had gone far too askew in the last few days. It would’ve taken a little longer, but he’d have gotten what he came here for and left with naught a soul hurt. Just a few snotty nobles, but who cares about them.

The most frustrating part was how he had to employ the help of Joseph. That is gonna deduct his contribution so much. He just hoped it’d be enough to exchange for the knowledge.

As he watched the ensuing chaos, he was reminded of the boy who made this possible. A terrifyingly dangerous friend. The enemies he managed to attract say a lot about him.

Ricono at least knew he was gonna stay far far away from him.

“Well only if he survives, right? What do you think are the chances of him emerging alive after bringing those monsters?” No response followed but he continued.

“Yes, I know it’s infinitely low, but wouldn’t it be interesting if he survives? How the fuck that brat managed to change so much in so few days is beyond me.”

“No, it can’t be possession. You used to be a Section 2 Artist, no Artist of your caliber could possess him, not to mention the profit of doing something so low-hanging.” He frowned at the skull in his hands.

The skull in question was the one he had found underground and had since then promptly been taken away and wrapped tightly in a red ceremonial cloth.

“You should really stop talking to dead people, Ricono. It’s not good for your health.” An aged voice called from behind him. A man in a black cloak appeared behind Ricono as he lifted his hood.

“Please don’t be admonishing right now Joseph. We have completed a way too long mission and I’d rather let loose. Do you know how difficult it is to pretend I’m someone I’m not?” He asked the strange man.

“Well, you tell me, boy. I’ve been there for so long that I almost forgot my name was Joseph and not Agak. But it’s truly time to go back.” The old man sighed with nostalgia.

“When are we leaving then?” Ricono asked, a little impatient. He worried about what was to come and he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Wait. Wait for a while. I need to see what’s gonna happen. This is important for me.” He said sternly. Ricono can’t argue with him so he too shut up.

“Do you think Conor would make it out alive?” Ricono asked as he sat on the grass with the skull in his lap.

“Mayhaps.”

“You think he might survive?”

“His time is connected with us, who knows about the future.”

“Well, I hope you at least brought some wine for the show?”

Joseph, formerly Agak, nodded and a bottle of his favorite wine manifested before Ricono’s eyes. “Ah, you are the best!”

Joseph did not retort but focused on feeling for the spatial boundary separating the city and the outside world. It was strange and he still could not understand how it worked.

‘If he survives this then perhaps it’s time to tell others about him.’

- - - * - - -

Struck by a stroke of executive function disorder, I struggled with making further plans while the world behind me burned. I thought of asking Bri for help but he was gone before I could ask him. His curiosity and lust proved greater than our friendship.

I would’ve been emotionally hurt in different circumstances, but here I couldn’t even muster that.

The world as it stands, made the choice for me.

I used to think nothing worse could come from freeing a prison full of lustful and dangerous criminals on a population of innocents, but I was proven wrong.

A maelstrom of magic washed over me and a deep-rooted bad luck exploded within and outside me as the world quaked and rocked. Something in the sky exploded and as all of us mortals engaged in our petty squabbles looked above, we saw it.

A new moon in the sky. A pink moon that continuously burst apart and reformed itself, runes ran along its surface trying to dampen it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The splendor and the beauty of the moon washed over us as everything turned pink in its glory.

I looked at it and I, for some godforsaken reason, couldn't move my gaze away from it. It was just so beautiful.

So majestic. ‘Maybe this is God’. I wondered.

And stuck in that scene of glory and enthralment, a thought burst from within me. It seemed to have been spoken directly in my ears by the world itself. It spoke to me, in its strangely elusive manner,

“We can make it better.

We can, yes. Me… and?

Ah yes, how can I be so stupid and ignorant as to not understand this. It has always been me and my mist. We can make everything more beautiful. A misty moon, wouldn’t that be just something to die for.

A question I have heard came to my mind,

“Why do you wanna draw?”

Isn’t it obvious? I realized I have neglected my role as an artist for far too long over survival. For me to take so long to find the answer. I was stupid. I was foolish.

‘Isn’t it just so I could capture the world in my colors?’ It was not for money. Nor for family. Neither for survival. I don’t need to live forever if I could just live one more day to capture the beauty of this world and its many splendors and translate it into my colors.

As if a key was turned, the world around me changed. I was back in the strange town I had visited in my dreams and the fishes around me were dying again. Yet no dart ever came close to me.

But what I saw was the floating town itself. It was dying.

The town was disintegrating, piece by piece. Speck by speck. The skewered building collapsed and the hanging moon and stars who hung with strings attached were falling down, deep deep down in the abyss where I couldn’t see.

The sun was gone and darkness slowly overtook the world. In the middle of it all, I found someone. He stood like, walked like, looked like me. But he wasn’t me.

He had an ancient feeling to it, yet he felt wrong. Looking at him my eyes hurt.

He too looked at me, and without a word said, he jumped down. Chasing the moon and the stars forever.

And suddenly I was back. Cipetel burning and ravaged by the earthquakes. But I felt nothing. A boy in the bubble, I was away from the world. Only two people stood in front of me, similarly unaffected by the world.

‘It’s Him!’ I suddenly realized that the man who stood in front of me was the same person with trenchcoat and green eyes. His quill now in his hands, he stared at me with a faint smile.

“We meet again.” He said his voice as I remembered it. Soft and soothing. He still felt so grand, but I felt no discomfort looking at him.

I don’t know how I had the strength to remain standing, but I answered “Who are you?”

“That is not for you to know right now. In fact, you’d forget this conversation ever happened in a few minutes. As you can probably guess, this place is doomed and you are not yet fit to be at this stage. Madein is not exactly fit either, but he has me for now.” He pointed at the man behind him and only then I remembered there was someone else too.

“Let’s get this done quickly then. First of all, congratulations on answering the first one and starting your real journey as an Artist. I knew Canvas wouldn’t forsake its favorite for anything less.

“In fact, the only reason we could meet was ‘cause you found the answer. If it was before the metamorphosis, you’d have died under my presence.

“Secondly, you need to grow. You need strength and a real passion for Art now that you are also the last survivor of the city called Cipetel, the second last surviving member of the Servouz family, and finally a convict on escape.

“Grow oh young Artist, have faith in the Canvas and we’ll find you when you’re ready. I’m sure it would be an interesting tale when we see each other in the eye again.

“Farewell then.”

And before I could even raise my voice, I felt a scorching across my left face as pain clouded me, and the next thing I knew, I was once again completely disintegrated and dark, and once again, completely alone.

- - - - * - - - -

“Do you think it was wise?” Alan asked.

“It was the necessary thing to do. You know as well as I do, no Artist was ever born in a dungeon. He needs to discover himself, and discover the world to grow up properly.” Ameryic said.

“Plans really are unreliable huh?”

“I know, they are. Who would’ve thought the new favorite would be an adult. How is it possible? Soul from a different world? An abomination of Canvas? We can’t know, but all we can do is trust it and him.

“You should go now. The others are waiting.” He ordered and the next instant the bubble of space disappeared along with Alan.

Left alone in a wide clearing of death and destruction, Ameryic deeply inhaled, filling his nostrils with smoke and gunpowder, he opened his eyes to find five pairs of eyes on him.

“You were chosen indeed huh…” A woman said, her voice echoing through the air.

“Your reverence has been paid in full. But even you didn’t expect it to be an adult, did you?” A man asked, his body covered behind layers and layers of tattoos.

“No, I did not. Gave me quite a shock.” Ameryic said.

“Cavas must be really desperate to attempt something like that. Tricking our senses and even magnifying the time for the region just to protect a person. From the signs, they are 5 days ahead of us.

“A magnification of more than a thousand would void this place, but still it went with it. Do say Ameryic, where have you sent him?” Another man asked, his voice coming in intervals.

“I don’t know. I believed in the Canvas to send him.”

“So random. It’s gonna be hard locating him again.”

“For me too, yes.”

“A wasted trip it was.”

“Perhaps.”

“How I wish to kill you right now.”

“Heh, why but thank you. Heaven is a graveyard, and I prefer mine with the mist for some suspense. So please look forward to it, a new era is upon us.”