Chapter 192 – Floor 21: Part 2
“Your painting has been deemed…adequate.” The condescending voice of the Mona Lisa descended from where she hovered above. Mathew’s painting turned to liquid and fell to the ground, where the stones quickly absorbed it.
“Your painting has been deemed…exceptional.” Next to him, Gwen’s painting, which depicted a beautiful sunrise over a mountain, similarly disappeared. The Mona Lisa seemed disgruntled by that statement, and Gwen smirked at the floating painting.
“Good job.” Mathew said.
“It was easy; I just imagined the look on her smug face when she realized how talented I was. It was totally worth it.” Gwen responded.
In the distance, several people had their paintings judged. Mathew couldn’t hear what was said, but when their bodies turned to paint and disappeared into the ground, he knew they had failed the test. All told, it only took a few minutes for the first round of testing to finish. Over most people passed, and Mathew could tell that the painting above was irritated by that fact.
“To those that remain, know that the second round will be much harder. Although, none of you have a choice but to participate.” Paint accumulated on the ground, and a giant painting slowly rose from below. It was concealed in black shadows made of paint, preventing anyone from seeing what was on the canvas.
“This is a recreation of my master’s last painting, ‘A Self-Portrait.’ The task here is simple: gaze upon this masterpiece and resist its power. If you can last five seconds, you will be deemed acceptable and pass onto the final test.” The Mona Lisa explained.
“Five seconds? Easy.” Gwen scoffed while Mathew shook his head in disagreement. He could sense the power under the veil of shadow; the mana pulsated like a beating heart. It sent shivers down his spine, and he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking.
“I don’t think this is going to be a walk in the park. We’ll need to use everything we have to resist it.” Mathew advised.
“You! Approach the painting.” The Mona Lisa ordered a young woman near the outside of the crowd. Wearing thick robes, her brown hair cascaded down her back as she walked forward. Standing in front of the painting, she drew in a deep breath and pulled out a staff.
‘Good Instincts.’ Mathew thought, agreeing with her preparations. She began to use multiple protective blessings, and a solid magical glow suffused her body. Finally, a bubble-like shield sprang into existence around her, its surface multi-coloured like an oil slick.
When she was finished, she looked up at the Mona Lisa and nodded.
“I’m ready.” She said. The veil of magic parted around the piece of art, and the young woman was exposed to what was beneath it. Mathew couldn’t see it, and no one could besides the young woman. But its power was undeniable.
The ground shook, and a bright light shot out toward the woman. The air trembled, and the young woman screamed in pain as energy battered at her protective shield. The bubble shattered like glass, along with most of her protective enchantments.
Above, the Mona Lisa began to count the time.
“5.4.3.2.1.” After five seconds, the power of the hidden painting was dissipated, and the young woman collapsed onto the ground. Panting with exhaustion, she was pale, and Mathew could feel the mana within her flickering as if it were on the verge of being extinguished.
“Adequate.” The Mona Lisa judged, and the young woman was moved back to where she had first stood with stone hands that emerged from the ground.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
“Next.”
One after another, people approached the veiled painting. Each used their various techniques to prepare themselves. Some succeeded, while others failed. Those who lived showed how difficult the challenge was; they returned exhausted and injured, while those that failed were burned from existence.
Mathew watched one young man, a tall and muscular warrior, scream in agony as the energy ripped through his body. Eventually, his body turned to specks of paint that smeared across the floor as he was blasted into oblivion.
“Failure.”
When it was Gwen’s turn, Mathew wished her good luck as she pulled a large shield from her inventory. Emblazoned with a griffin on the front, Mathew could sense that it was a powerful magical item. When she was in front of the painting, she slammed the bottom of the shield against the courtyard stone, burying it into the ground for stability.
When the veil parted, flames gushed out and struck the shield with such intensity that the impact rang out like a gong. Even with the shield buried in the ground and her entire weight and considerable strength pushing back against it, Gwen was slowly pressed backwards.
Yelling in anger, Gwen drew her sword. It shone a bright blue, and Mathew was reminded of water as mana gathered along its length.
“Waterfall Divide!” She screamed, and a torrent of mana rushed out from the sword as she sliced downwards. The flames were parted by the blue mana that flowed like a waterfall descending from the side of a mountain. The flames and water slammed against each other, causing a massive explosion of steam that shook everything around them.
When the steam cleared, Gwen was still standing. Her shield glowed red from the intense heat, and the sword in her hand had a muted colour as if it were entirely drained.
“Exceptional.” The Mona Lisa once again judged, this time with a hint of desperation in her tone. It clearly wanted Gwen to fail and was worried that the young woman would be the one to succeed and take her master’s treasure.
Gwen returned to her spot next to Mathew without the need to be carried, and Mathew nodded in approval of her actions. She was stronger than most of the others here and clearly incredibly talented. She had achieved an ‘exceptional’ in both tests, a feat no one else had accomplished.
“Any advice?” Mathew whispered as she neared him.
“Go all out right from the start. This isn’t the time to hold back.” Gwen recommended. He could see how much it took out of her to stand against the painting for five seconds.
“Thanks.”
It was his turn next, and Mathew began to reinforce himself as he walked forward.
“Alter Self – Enhanced Body. Alter Self – Iron Bones. Alter Self – Thick Skin.” The transformations began to take effect; his movement slowed even further as the strain of altering his body made his right leg have difficulty carrying his weight.
Limping slightly, he continued.
“Investiture of Flame.” Fire sprang into existence all around him; his footsteps left lingering flames on the ground as he walked. Finally, he pulled the Wrathful Blade from his inventory and slammed its flat end into the ground, digging the heavy sword nearly halfway into the ground.
Since his right leg would be useless, Mathew knelt before the broad blade and gripped the handle with both hands. Looking up at the Mona Lisa, he nodded to indicate he was ready.
The veil of black paint parted, and Mathew was greeted with his first look at the painting beneath. It was of an old man; his skin was incredibly pale and covered in age spots. He had a long, white beard and hair and a pair of the brightest, bluest eyes he had ever seen.
They seemed to stare into his eyes, and Mathew found he couldn’t look away. A voice spoke out at the moment his eyes locked with those of the painted man, and Mathew wasn’t sure if it was speaking aloud or in his mind.
“When painting, putting a piece of yourself in your work is vitally important. The best Art is a part of you, a connection to your very soul. Do you have the fortitude to tear a piece of yourself out and place it into your creation? To create is to be cruel to oneself.”
“Show me if you are worthy of my art!”
The voice exploded in volume, and Mathew screamed as the energy assaulted him. Like a torrent of fire and light from a sun, the power assailed him. It struck the Wrathful Blade, and the metal instantly heated, glowing a bright orange.
Mathew could feel his skin peeling; his bones rattled from the intense vibrations from the sword hilt in his hands. He felt his legs rise up off the ground as the painting threw everything it had against him. If his hands slipped even for a moment, he would be thrown into oblivion.
With that torrent of energy came a simultaneous assault on his mind. Images, memories and sensations rapidly flashed through his head, a combination of his own past and unknown, foreign, intrusive thoughts.
Mathew could feel his hands slipping; the sword was coming loose from the ground. It was tilting backwards, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“2.1.” The veil returned to cover the painting, and Mathew collapsed onto the ground. The sword pulled free and hit the stones with a loud ‘clang.’
“Barely adequate.”
It wasn’t a great assessment, but he would take it.