Chapter 6: AI can’t draw

Yaltarion dislikes the title of Archmage.

The reason is absurd.

It’s because one of his titles is Archmage.

– Grandpa. Your head is really weird.

– Not the hairstyle. What’s inside is weird.

This was the impertinent assessment of his nine-year-old granddaughter, Emil.

Because of this, some people ask.

Is it because the title of Archmage is impractical?

Well, it’s true that there are three in the City of Arts alone.

They don’t know what they’re talking about.

Yaltarion’s most cherished title. People with that title are ten times more common than Archmages.

– My name is Yaltarion. I am a Ribeyong Artist!

Ribeyong Artist.

A grand title given to masters of the art world.

However, it wasn’t as grand as Archmage.
Yaltarion knew at least 30 of them.

Nevertheless.

Yaltarion has called himself a Ribeyong Artist for the past 40 years.

Ever since he first received the title at 17.

Even at the Archmage conferment ceremony, even when he was being honored for his feat of annihilating an army of 25,000 monsters, and today was no exception.

It was only natural. Because Yaltarion’s identity has always been that of a painter.

“After living for so long, I’ve become an Archmage….”

Yaltarion sat in the meeting room chair and clicked his tongue.

“Seeing this makes me lose my dignity.”

The 43rd day of Sanghwawol.The regular meeting of the Mages’ Guild that Yaltarion attended.

The nature of their intellectual discussion was reminiscent of a chaotic marketplace.

“The distribution of materials for artifact repair this year will be-“

“What’s with this ledger? You guys embezzled half of the mithril brought into the guild? Let’s see who opened the trade route?!”

“Thunder Tower Master! Duel me!”

“Fight the Flame Tower Master…. You said you wanted to fight a strong opponent! Fight the Flame Tower Master, who is stronger than me!”

Is this… a conversation between the nation’s greatest minds?

The speed of Yaltarion’s tongue-clicking increased, eventually rivaling a woodpecker.

“Tsk, tsk, you money-grubbers.”

The money-tainted squabbles were an insult to an artist’s soul.

He quietly slipped out of the meeting room and chanted a spell.

A meticulously constructed teleportation spell.

The destination was Yaltarion’s spiritual home.

The city of water and art, Yaltesance.

‘Now that I’ve taken care of urgent matters, there’s no one to stop me.’

He didn’t want to stay in this vulgar meeting room a moment longer.

He longed for the elegant drizzle of the City of Arts.

He wanted to be drenched in the rain and become intoxicated by inspiration.

However.

“Ten new paintings were unveiled today!! Whose works could these be?!”

“Saintess! Saintess! Saintess!”

“Oh, Saintess of Art… is it you again….”

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaa-!!”

“Why are you praising this garbage?!”

Unfortunately for Yaltarion, Yaltesance was also a chaotic marketplace.

“What in the world?!”

The Painters’ Guild of Yaltesance.
Arriving at their meeting room, Yaltarion doubted his eyes for a moment.

It was understandable. The Painters’ Guild had become a gathering of cultists.

“This innovative technique! The insane work speed! This proves that she is undeniably a genius!”

“We believe!”

“We worship and repent. Apostates, please kill yourselves.”

What the h*ll, did my teleportation fail?
No? These are the painters I know.

Fortunately, new factions are often oppressed by conservatives.

There were also painters who opposed these fanatics.

“Aaack!! You crazy bstards!! Are your eyes just for decoration?!”

“What kind of disgrace is this for a painter?!”

“Dmn it, who is this painter anyway? All we know is her pseudonym, Synthia!”

‘Synthia?’

Yaltarion had heard the name.

A rising painter who recently made a name for herself with her incredible work speed.

“What? ‘This painter’? Did you just disrespect the Saintess?”

“Kill him! Let’s offer his head to Her sanctuary!”

“The Saintess desires red paint-!!”

…Are these really painters?
Not like, the leaders of a new cult?

“You psychopaths! If you offer human heads as sacrifices, that’s a Demon Lord, not a Saint!”

“Synthia must have made a pact with the devil!”

Crazy artists gathered, chanting “Ooh! Ooh!” around a makeshift altar.

Painters wielding their brushes, resisting them.

Even Ribeyong Artists were among both sides.

Yaltarion felt dizzy.

“You’ve arrived, Your Excellency.”

“Guild Master! What’s going on? Have I gone senile?”

“You’re seeing reality correctly.”

The Painters’ Guild Master sighed and turned away from the guild members.

“It seems a few paintings sold recently have sparked their inspiration and… discussion.”

“Dis-cussion?”

“…Since there are no casualties yet, it’s a discussion. Yes, for now.”

It was absurd.

Painters are the epitome of artists.

Walking egos wrapped in clothes.

People who live and die by their pride.

For such painters to be arguing over the paintings of a much younger artist?

‘How much of a genius is she?’

His admiration was short-lived.
Yaltarion stroked his beard pretentiously.

“Hmm, for young people to be so spineless….”

“Indeed.”

“You’ve seen that painter’s work, haven’t you? What do you think?”

“That painter… Ah, you mean Chloe A. Turing.”

Yaltarion realized without having to ask foolishly who that was.

That this was Synthia’s real name.

It wasn’t that Chloe had been investigated.
She used her real name when registering with the guild.

It couldn’t be helped.

Falsifying documents to hide her identity?

There’s a limit to playing the hidden genius game.

It’s not like she’s committing a crime, so it would only make things harder later.
That’s how the Guild Master learned Chloe’s name.

However.

“Her fundamentals are lacking.”

The Painters’ Guild Master frowned.
A cultured disdain.

“Calling that kind of painting art? These young people are too quick to assign meaning.”

Those messy paintings.

The haphazard fingers, eyebrows, and accessories.

Everything was repulsive.
As if a third-rate painter had drawn them while intoxicated.

“I was planning to take action soon anyway.”

“Take action?”

“If that person dabbled in illegal drugs while chasing inspiration, it would become a scandal for the guild.”

“Indeed.”

A short reply.

The Painters’ Guild Master noticed the hidden interest in his words.

“Would Your Excellency like to see them as well?”

“…Ahem. Cough, cough.”

Honestly.

He was curious.

There’s no artist who isn’t starved for inspiration.

Still, Yaltarion shook his head.

“No, I’ll go see my granddaughter first.”

“I see. Is young Noemillica preparing for the competition these days?”

“Indeed.”

The old man stroking his beard grinned.

“Haha. Winning is a given, so I don’t have any advice to give, but she’ll be disappointed if I don’t visit her.”

“I don’t think that would be the ca-… I mean, yes, please do visit her.”

The Painters’ Guild Master tactfully adjusted his words and retreated.

He was adept at protecting himself.

‘Chloe….’

Chloe A. Turing.

Yaltarion repeated the ordinary name.

It was the name of a promising junior, and more importantly.

“Compared to our Emil, who is more talented?”

His beloved, genius granddaughter.
She needed stimulation and competition on her path.

‘I doubt she’s Emil’s age, though.’

He chuckled and left the guild to find his granddaughter.

If Chloe had seen this, she would have vehemently agreed with the Guild Master, but wouldn’t have condemned the other painters.

Opposing vice, but not forcing virtue.
Saying something about the proper way of the Jianghu.

It is the king’s role, not a martial artist’s, to establish laws.

Chloe’s hyup.

In other words, that’s what it meant by human principles.

But there was something Chloe had forgotten.

This is Luntraval.

A land ruled by gods and magic.

The kings of this continent weren’t just humans.

“Huh, the more I see it, the more impressive it is. That Synthia.”

One of the many general stores in Yaltesance.

Chenpseus, the owner, clapped his hands in admiration.

The object of his admiration was a painting.

A portrait commissioned by the daughter of a wealthy merchant.

Chenpseus was deeply moved by the finished product.

‘To produce three such masterpieces in a single day…!’

This wasn’t the appreciation of an artist.
It was the appreciation of a merchant and broker.

Is she even human?

Maybe she’s a tentacle monster wielding a brush?

And that wasn’t all.

The truly frightening thing was something else.

The process by which Synthia painted portraits.

‘Normally, you’d have the customer sit for hours for a portrait….’

The method of this extraordinary genius was indeed different.

Synthia saw her client only once.
On the day of the meeting, wearing a robe.

And then, to the clients who had come prepared to sit still as a rock all day, she said,

– Thank you for your time. You can go home now.

– Excuse me?

– I’m finished. In my head.

I’ll finish it by tomorrow and deliver it to the store.

It was just the other day she said that and left.

‘And she really did finish it and deliver it.’

Was there another monster like this in Yaltesance?

At least, none that he had heard of.

A once-in-a-generation genius.
Even that exaggerated praise was understandable.

That’s what made it even more thrilling.
The fact that he was doing business with such a monster.

‘Of course, it’s not a very good painting.’

Objectively speaking.

Chenpseus, the art critic, could criticize Synthia’s painting all he wanted.

Saying, her use of color is crude.
Saying, her understanding of objects is lacking.

Saying, her reinterpretation of depiction is excessive.

Saying, the level of completion is inconsistent between works.

Saying, saying, saying….

Paintings with numerous flaws.

Ordinary people would be satisfied.
Cheap, fast, and pretty.

‘But it’s true that the more you love art, the more likely you are to criticize it.’

Continuously brokering such flawed works?
The guild could impose fines.

However.

‘So what?’

Chenpseus decided to wear the mask of a merchant.

Meaning, he put on a thick skin.

The colors are bizarre?

The depiction is sloppy?

You can see distorted anatomy if you look closely?

What does it matter?

‘It’s so cheap!’

A painting only needs to sell, to sell!

He can just recoup the fines through brokerage fees.

He didn’t understand why the guild kept demanding fines with their administrative power.

Clang-.

“Shopkeeper. Do you mind if I take a look around?”

Perhaps it was because they favored the ambition of the middle-aged merchant.
Another customer visited his store.

Chenpseus greeted the customer with a wide smile.

It couldn’t be helped.

“Feel free to look around. Are you looking for a commission by any chance? A famous rising painter has signed a contract with us!”

“A rising painter?”

“Haven’t you heard of Synthia? She’s the one who painted this.”

Introduce good products subtly.
Chenpseus casually recommended Synthia’s painting.

However.

‘The reaction isn’t very good.’

The mysterious beauty’s face paled as soon as she saw the painting.

Chenpseus quickly changed his mind.

As he said before, the more one loves art, the more hideous Synthia’s paintings appear.

This woman must be well-versed in art.
That’s what Chenpseus thought.

In other words, the reality was slightly different.

‘What… is this painting?’

That woman, Elain, the Spirit King, gasped and stepped back.

A chill ran down her spine. Desperately suppressing her instinctive fear.

She couldn’t understand.
As a spirit, she saw the world differently from human painters.

She could see the painter’s heart, their soul, through their paintings.

That’s why she couldn’t understand.

‘…Beautiful? This?’

Elain stared at the painting, cold sweat dripping down her face.

How do humans…

…see this horrifying painting?