The Artist Who Paints Dungeon

Joo-Hyun used to say:

“If you want to convincingly imitate a human being—”

“Imitate? Do you want to see a crying portrait? It’d be your first time, right?”

“Don’t start sobbing just yet, Mr. Gio. I’m not done talking.”

He was worried this scatterbrained portrait might return as a half-baked god beyond human reckoning. Anyone who’s seen what so-called evil gods do for fun would get a rough idea of where it leads.

“Instead of taking action yourself, use items.”

Joo-Hyun truly worried about Gio.

“Don’t get frustrated and jump in, only to create some weird fanatic. Just listen to me.”

“I am a pure sun that does not deal in fanaticism.”

“You’re not filled with just the sun, are you? Right? I have more experience in life than you do, Mr. Gio.”

“If we count everything, I’ve lived longer.”

“Okay, I said that wrong. At the very least, I understand what counts as ‘normal’ better than you do.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Gio gave a double thumbs-up.

“I lack social awareness.”

“I don’t think it’s just that. Yoo Seong-Woon told me some things.”

Joo-Hyun asked, full of concern.

“You once carved out a sea tunnel in a dungeon called ‘The Nation of the Deep,’ right?”

“I was told it wasn’t illegal. I stand falsely accused.”

“I’m not scolding you. So keep listening. They say you made stairs instead of a slide—is that true?”

“Well, of course I made stairs. Think about it, Miss Joo-Hyun. If I made a slide with that kind of insane depth, the acceleration would kill someone.”

“I appreciate your concern for human life, but humans don’t carve stairways through the sea just because they don’t want to die. Especially not in dungeons.”

“I understand what you’re worried about.”

Gio nodded.

“But I’ve lived on Earth for 29 whole years. Please believe in me.”

“You’re in this state after 29 years, so how am I supposed to believe in you?”

“Shall I show you a crying portrait?”

“If you want to stop pretending to be human, feel free to keep saying things like that.”

“......”

It wasn’t exactly pretending, but there was a sting of truth to it. Gio quietly shut his mouth. Joo-Hyun nodded in appreciation and continued.

“But it’s not like you’re someone who can just sit by and ignore human affairs.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“My trust in you hit rock bottom the moment I found out people called you the ‘smiling tyrant of the seaside village.’ Isn’t that right, you mercy-bombing maniac?”

“Mercy-bombing?”

“I know you’re not one to sit still, so let me offer one piece of advice.”

Joo-Hyun said solemnly:

“Don’t get directly involved.”

“And use items instead?”

Gio looked disheartened.

“I’m broke. I don’t have any items.”

“Amazingly enough, your entire hut—down to the last drop of water—is made of items.”

“Please don’t belittle my peaceful and cozy hut.”

“You know exactly what it is and are just playing dumb. So I’ll keep talking. Use your items.”

Joo-Hyun offered sincere advice.

“That way, you at least have some room to make excuses later. Remember, during the necromancy incident, the only reason you weren’t treated like some divine figure was because Dana served as a buffer between you and everyone else.”

“So what would I be explaining afterward?”

“That you’re human. If you start throwing around miracles just because humans look amusing or pitiful to you again, don’t. And if you absolutely must, at least make sure there are no witnesses.”

“Are you suggesting I eliminate witnesses? That’s... quite fascinating.”

“Don’t bring out Argio just for moments like this, Gio. I’m being serious. Even if the Collector’s Guild is a corporate powerhouse, it’s difficult to keep things under wraps when this many people are involved. Especially since this is an event hosted by the Church of the Sun.”

“I’ll behave.”

And Joo-Hyun never once said he trusted him. He was a truly meticulous man.

***

But even a meticulous man like Joo-Hyun had overlooked something.

“Th-The bleeding stopped?”

“What? I... I feel warm again.”

“...My organs are healing.”

He should’ve placed a limit on the type and number of Gio’s items as well.

Severed arms reattached, lost flesh and organs regenerated, cursed bleeding wounds were instantly sealed, and the half-dead regained body heat and tasted miracles akin to resurrection.

The culprit behind it all: Gio’s blood dumplings.

“......”

About seven had been scattered.

“......”

“...Ngh...”

Gio saw, in the distance, Priest Kang Seodam covering his face with both hands, trying to stifle sobs.

“P-Priest, please don’t cry! Everyone’s recovered...!”

“I... I didn’t expect Priest Kang Seodam to be so worried...”

“I didn’t realize how deeply he cared...”

Despite the warm gratitude and comfort pouring in from the others, Gio felt like the sorrow radiating from Kang Seodam had only grown stronger. It wasn’t just his imagination—the priest wasn’t recovering well.

Even Gio, who normally ignored the stares of others, couldn’t pretend not to notice this time. He slowly slid over to Garasani’s side.

And whispered,

“I think I made a pretty big mistake.”

“I’ll say it was a Collector’s item. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

Gio thought to himself,

‘How do you write a self-reflection essay again...’

He was more used to receiving such things than writing them. But in the face of such a colossal mistake, things like pride or dignity were flung into the abyss of dark matter. Gio preemptively apologized to Joo-Hyun.

‘I’ll write and send him a letter when I have time later.’

It would be a pretty letter, one that the recipient wouldn’t even read, but better to have something than nothing. Sensing people approaching, Gio looked up.

“U-Um, Priest...?”

“I’m not a priest.”

“Ah, right. Hunter.”

“You haven’t fully recovered yet. Wouldn’t it be better to lie down a bit longer?”

“No. After receiving such a precious gift... how could I just lie there...?”

The hunter, who had just come back from the brink of literal death, was teary-eyed with emotion. Gio wanted to bury his head inside a frame. It was overwhelmingly awkward.

“H-How could you give us such an elixir...?”

“Ah, that medicine...”

At that moment, Gio realized something.

‘Saying it’s a Collector’s item won’t cut it.’

He tried to bluff it, but the atmosphere didn’t allow for it.

The Collector’s Guild wasn’t known for handing out valuable items as charity. And anyone could see that the owner of these blood dumplings was Sergio.

“......”

Giovanni decided to just trust in his holiness and go with a bold-faced lie.

“...I named the medicine ‘Blood Dumpling.’”

“Blood Dumpling?”

“Yes. It’s a dumpling crafted from medicinal herbs I found with the help of the god I serve. I was lucky enough to stumble upon an herb colony in a place the Sun guided me to, and I prepared it before coming to the dungeon.”

“Unbelievable...”

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure what effects it would have. But seeing the herbs, I thought they’d help with clotting and recovery, so I made it just in case. Never imagined I’d have to use it like this.”

Gio drew a cross across his chest with a saintly expression.

“This too must be the Sun’s will. The divine one I love and revere must have wished for this expedition’s success. I merely followed the will of my god. So please, direct all gratitude—not to me—but to the Sun.”

There were too many holes and questions in the story. But the sheer sincerity in Priest Giovanni’s voice, paired with his melancholy appearance, made the hunters accept it.

“Come to think of it, the Collector’s Guild only joined shortly before deployment...”

“So that’s it. Hunter Sergio’s divine power must’ve pushed him to participate.”

“This expedition is being supported by two Suns!”

“Right. Without divine help, we wouldn’t have survived this.”

Too tired to think deeply, the people were easily swept up in emotion. Of course, there were still some with doubts—but even those soon faded as the crowd self-managed the story.

“Wait, wasn’t Hunter Sergio a tamer?”

“Idiot, it’s not just priests who can serve a god.”

“Oh... didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, it’s rare though.”

“Even priests rarely get chosen by a god... but a tamer?”

“At this point, isn’t he basically a saint? Must be super loved.”

“But if he’s not from the Church of the Sun... does that mean it’s a different Sun?”

“Seoul’s Church of the Sun is probably not thrilled.”

Being battle-hardened hunters, they quickly became lively again after recovering. Gio watched the resilient humans, then leaned toward Garasani and whispered:

“How long do you think this will last?”

“If the Collector steps in, quite a while.”

“I’ll think of a more stable cover once we’re back. But please, help me with this one.”

“You don’t even need to ask.”

Technically speaking, Gio’s excuse wasn’t completely impossible. Just extremely rare—once-in-a-generation rare. People would question it once their reason returned.

But that only mattered if nothing else was done. If Giovanni kept calmly “educating” them with the truth, and if the mighty Collector provided “support” here and there, then the tale would become common knowledge.

So what. If we say it’s true, then it is. What are you going to do about it?

“......”

Of course, there were still people that logic wouldn’t work on.

“Sun God?”

“Yes.”

“Sun... God...”

“Yes.”

“......”

“......”

Sanarae looked at Gio with a face that had lost its usual smile. A subtle expression, hard to interpret—but Gio understood. It meant, ‘That’s a pretty weak excuse, don’t you think?’

And Gio ignored it.

‘It’s not entirely a lie.’

His stepfather was the Sun God. Even if he was currently shaped like an adorable teddy bear, his divine majesty remained.

‘He even lives at my place.’

Gio had devoted himself to the Sun in more ways than one. Saying he served the Sun wasn’t a lie. Sure, it leaned more toward caregiving than worship, but still.

Thankfully, Sanarae didn’t press further.

“...You really are loved by the Sun, huh.”

“Sharp eye, Hunter Sanarae. We’re practically family.”

“If that’s the case, then you’re basically a saint. Wonder how the Church of the Sun will react.”

“Sounds ominous.”

With a voice full of experience, Gio asked:

“Am I going to be branded a heretic and face trial, stoned by angry citizens?”

“Are you insane?”

“Or imprisoned without trial, locked in a tank with man-eating fish...”

“What are you even saying?”

“Being eaten alive isn’t as thrilling as it sounds.”

At that moment, Kang Seodam stepped in.

“Please don’t see the Church of the Sun as such a primitive cult, Hunter Sergio.”

“Oh. Was that primitive?”

“...There may be some religions like that, but we are not among them.”

“My apologies.”

“As Hunter Sanarae said, the Church may respond... but nothing hostile.”

“What kind of response?”

“......”

After hesitating, Kang Seodam answered.

“...Let’s say, at worst, they’ll try to recruit you.”

“But I serve a different divine entity altogether.”

“If we cared about that, we wouldn’t be Seoul’s representative religion.”

“That’s... a surprising thing to hear. You’ve changed my perspective.”

“...I’ll do my best to protect you. I’ll try my hardest... huuuh...”

Watching Kang Seodam—who sounded like he was crying—Sanarae glanced at Gio with a complicated expression.

“Say it.”

“Mm. It’s nothing...”

“Say it.”

“It’s really nothing.”

“Say it.”

“I was wrong.”

With his hands clasped in apology, Sanarae quietly left—probably to greet the Haryeong Guild hunter teamed up with Kang Seodam. Left behind were Gio, Kang Seodam, and Garasani.

Surveying the chaotic surroundings, Garasani asked Kang Seodam:

“What happened here? Communications were down—I didn’t get the full picture...”

“I believe I mentioned it: monsters appeared during the false moon’s time.”

“We know those creatures become especially aggressive at that hour.”

“I believe the monsters we faced may be unfamiliar to your team.”

Kang Seodam furrowed his brow, clearly troubled.

“They were undead.”

“Undead?”

“Yes, rotten corpses. They vanished quickly after a light trigger, but...”

“......”

Garasani’s silence prompted a nod from Kang Seodam.

“It was indeed a baffling situation.”

Why would undead monsters inhabit this rainforest dungeon?

“I thought it was a standard plant-based dungeon, but clearly there’s more going on.”

“Then it’s likely a narrative dungeon.”

“And such dungeons are difficult to conquer without knowing the story.”

“Were you able to identify the monsters?”

“It was dark, but as a priest of the Sun, I confirmed what I could.”

“Thankfully, they weren’t anyone you knew?”

“The clothing style didn’t match Earth’s, so it seems unlikely.”

“They might’ve changed clothes. Did you see their faces?”

“They were too damaged to recognize. But I didn’t sense any familiar presence... So I don’t believe they were priests of the Sun.”

The Church had previously failed an expedition in this dungeon. There were worries the undead might be former priests—but Kang Seodam shook his head.

“It’s strange. Not a single trace of our brothers’ remains.”

“I believe the four-legged beasts here don’t eat corpses.”

“Even if the Church’s info was wrong, there should’ve been leftover gear. But nothing.”

“With a dungeon this vast, there must be many unsearched areas.”

“Yes, but...”

Kang Seodam continued, hesitating.

“Our team found something.”

“What a coincidence. So did we.”

“We found drag marks—signs that something heavy like a body was moved.”

“Our team saw monsters migrating toward a single location.”

“...Then our course is clear.”

Kang Seodam looked at Gio for a moment.

“......”

“How can I assist?”

“...No, this is...”

Biting his lip, Kang Seodam carefully asked:

“...If the expedition succeeds, would you attend the Church of the Sun’s funeral mass?”

“Of course. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. Truly, we’re immeasurably grateful for your mercy and kindness.”

As Kang Seodam whispered quietly, making sure no one else heard, Gio thought:

‘Why doesn’t anyone ever ask me to help with funerals...?’

Who else was better suited for such things?

As Gio wondered if he wasn’t seen as trustworthy enough to assist with death rites—unlike his father—and mused about whether he needed formal training in kingship, Kang Seodam called the surviving hunters together.

“After a short rest, we move.”

Until now, it had been exploration. But with this many clues, everything changed. The real expedition was beginning. One of the hunters, checking his wounds, asked:

“Priest, where are we headed?”

“Deeper in.”

Kang Seodam replied.

“We go where the monsters are gathering.”

There was definitely something ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) waiting there.