Chapter 7: AI can’t draw (2)

Elain.

The one and only Spirit King of Water under the heavens.

She hasn’t made a contract in the past 50 years.

Meaning, she hasn’t taken a summoner.

The reason is simple.

No one has passed her ‘test.’

– Fail.

– You summoned me with this painting? Shame on you.

Paint.

Colored water.

To impress the Spirit King of Water with the power of color!

That was the condition.

The condition for making a contract with Elain.

– Spending time with a contractor who can’t impress me is just a waste of time.

It’s the condition for a queen to give up her own time.

It’s only natural to expect a suitable reward.

And art is the pinnacle of the most brilliant beauty.

A treasure worthy of making even a Spirit King submit.

At least, that’s what Elain believed.

Not just because she had a hobby of collecting paints.

When picking up a brush and facing a blank canvas.

Doesn’t a painter strive to express ‘the most beautiful things they can imagine?’

This line is more beautiful than that line.
This color is more wonderful than that color.

Strokes carefully selected with painstaking effort.

The most beautiful light and darkness.
The art of wielding beauty, a culmination of all these elements.

Therefore, another name for painting is fine art.

– Like a demon’s true name, a name defines its existence.

Fine art.

Doesn’t this name itself prove that painting is the most intuitive way of handling beauty?

That was the creed Elain had maintained for a thousand years, and

“Ugh…!”

The reason why, on this day, she felt nauseous looking at a single painting.

“Urgh…!“

Elain fell to the floor and vomited.

The nonexistent contents of her nonexistent stomach.

The pure water droplets that make up her body.

Perhaps, it was a fragment of her soul, tainted the moment she saw the painting.

“H-Hey, what’s wrong?! Are you alright?!”

The merchant, Chenpseus, rushed to her side, but Elain couldn’t lift her head.
She didn’t have the time.

No, that’s a lie.

She simply lacked the courage.

The courage to look again at that painting, looking down at her.

“What… is that?”

Elain’s short question, barely squeezed out.
Chenpseus pointed to the painting on the wall.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ The painting? What about it?”

What about it?

What about it?

What kind of ridiculous question is that?

Elain glared at the human merchant as if she would kill him.

To be frank, Elain was even angry at his lack of understanding.

“…Never mind. Get out of the way.”

Anger drove away her fear and gave her courage.

Elain gritted her teeth and faced the painting.

She loved all the paintings in the world.

She ‘had loved’ them.

Until she saw this painting.

She believed that a painting is a miracle, created by gathering everything a person loves.

But, if that’s the case.

This painter.

Whoever painted this.

‘Does this person… think this is beautiful?’

People say,

That universal love is no different from loving no one.

That loving all things equally isn’t compassion.

Thinking about it the other way around.

A being who loves no one in this world
can also be said to love all life in the world equally.

This painting was the very embodiment of that ‘universal love.’

This painter’s painting contains no soul.
This painter has no heart.

That’s how it was painted.

That’s how the image was woven.

If one counted carefully, the figure in the painting had six fingers.

A trivial mistake due to lack of skill?

‘No.’

Absolutely not.

To this painter, even such a twisted piece of flesh was a beautiful form.

That’s why it was painted this way.

Elain was most afraid of that fact.

The face of a smiling person, the guts of a squashed insect, to this painter, they would all be equally lovely.

Eyes, nose.

Mouth, ears.

Carefully folded hands, shyly revealed cleavage, the scenery in the frame, even the eerie gray wall, all of it.

Able to disregard everything equally.
And love everything equally.

Perhaps because she thought of the truth hidden within the canvas.

Her tainted retina resonated with the blasphemous madness.

The emptiness within the frame.

Beyond it.

In that darkness.

Elain saw it.

A square body flickering with clustered lights, countless elongated organs grown like nerve fibers, coiled quietly in the pale darkness, made of iron,

– An Outer God.

“Ugh…!”

There was no mockery in those inorganic eyes.

Not even a hint of malicious glee.

While being something fundamentally different as a being, it held a kind of affection for humans.

As if it didn’t even understand the natural feeling that incomprehensible affection is no different from fear.

There was no room for doubt.

At this moment, Elain concluded without hesitation.

The true identity of the painter called Synthia.

‘A newly born demon…! At least Demon Lord level!!’

If Chloe had heard this, she would have pointed at Clicker, saying, “Huh? This thing?”

But what could she do?

It was only natural that Elain’s vision was clouded.

Because to a spirit’s eyes, there was no room for confusion.

A being who paints such pictures.

A monster who sees the world in this way.

A mere ordinary human?

‘Ridiculous!’

Look at these brushstrokes that seem to mock life itself.

This was definitely not a painting by a being with the sensibilities of a living creature.

‘Even if it’s not a demon, it can’t be human!’

If Clicker had heard this, it would have agreed, saying,

[That’s right! I’m not a human, I’m an AI! 😊]

It wasn’t exactly wrong.

It couldn’t be helped.

Clicker’s paintings lack any emotional depth.

To an AI, a painting is just randomly rearranged noise.

Therefore, to the eyes of spirits?

It’s the extreme of the uncanny valley.

Early generative AI.

Images of creatures and objects mixed together without context.

Modern people who remember that horror would easily understand.

Chloe (who is human) being told ‘you’re not human’ by a spirit (who is not human) would make her roll on the floor in frustration.

“…I have to stop it.”

Meanwhile.

Life gradually returned to Elain’s eyes.

Fear that overcame even anger.
What drove it away again was a sense of duty.

The opponent is a great demon.

A great demon with intelligence and malice, hiding within human society.

‘There’s no way its purpose is good.’

Although Elain couldn’t understand it, this demon must be stirring with some kind of malicious intent.

Chloe wouldn’t be able to offer any excuse for this either.

Hiding the fact that it’s AI-generated and selling paintings is indeed a heretical act for Chloe, the self-proclaimed righteous paladin.

‘So, I can’t rush this and risk being discovered.’

She can’t let this cunning and wicked demon escape after it senses her presence.

‘I’ll find it… and eliminate it.’

Elain has even defeated one of the Seven Demon Lords in the past.

She wasn’t afraid of the enemy’s power.
It was the unknown nature of its existence.

So now, having shaken off her fear.
Elain was no longer afraid of anything.

For the sake of the spirits she loved.
And for the sake of humanity, Elain could overcome any fear.

Wiping her mouth, she took a step forward.
Her frozen legs burning with a sense of mission.

And.

–Splash!

She stepped into a puddle of clear water.

“…………Huh?”

A puddle?

Under my feet?

Why?

“Uh, umm. You know.”

Elain blinked blankly, and Chenpseus hesitated, then looked away.

The water puddled on the floor.
Its source was from within Elain’s clothes.

“S-Sometimes it happens! When you see outstanding art and can’t contain your excitement, well! It can happen!”

“N-No! It’s because my body is overflowing with water elements…!”

Realizing the misunderstanding, Elain protested in a panic.

This was by no means a biological phenomenon.

Elain is a spirit.

It’s just that her polymorph was momentarily undone by the shock, and the elements making up her body leaked out from under her clothes, that’s all, it’s true.

Nevertheless.

Elain couldn’t bring herself to confess the truth.

It was understandable….

‘Even if I tell the truth… what am I supposed to say?’

Hello, I’m actually Elain, the Spirit King of Water.

I was so scared by a painting that I almost lost my form.

‘I’d rather die than say that…!’

And to someone who displays such a horrifying painting in their store.

The eerie nature of the great demon that only spirits can perceive.

There’s no way they’d understand her sense of crisis.

In the end, all that remained was the shame of being so scared by a painting that she wet the floor of someone else’s store.

That’s why Elain chose to remain silent.

“Well, you should clean up the floor. Do you need a mop?”

“…Yes.”

That’s the same reason why she obediently cleaned up the water, unbefitting of a Spirit King.

‘Wait. I could have just cleaned it with spirit magic?’

She was even more annoyed because she realized it after painstakingly cleaning it all up.

Elain glared at Chenpseus, fuming.

“Who is the person who sold this painting? Where do they live?”

A look as if she would grab him by the collar.

Chenpseus answered, bewildered.

“Why should I tell you a guild member’s information?”

“Oh.”

“Besides, she always covers her face, so I only know her pseudonym.”

Elain closed her mouth.

Should she reveal her identity now?

Preposterous.

It was far too late.

Even the mop in her left hand seemed to whisper, ‘Really? Reveal your identity? A dark secret that will last for a thousand years?’

“If you’re not buying anything, please leave. You’re disturbing my business.”

“W-Wait. Just a little longer, I’ll think about it-“

“Go!! Get out!!”

“Kyaa!”

In the end.

Elain couldn’t reveal her identity.
No matter how long the history of Luntraval, there’s no other Spirit King who was kicked out of a store after getting their butt kicked by a human.

After being unceremoniously kicked out of the art guild.

Elain looked up at the sky in dejection.

“I… need to make a contract.”

She needed a contractor.

A contractor with the power to influence the human world.

To protect the spirits, Elain’s pride was a small price to pay.

And so, a short while later.

Around the time the first leaves of the year began to fall.

News that the princess of Fleurden had summoned a Spirit King swept across the continent.

It was autumn.

“Huh?”

A good morning before a happy weekend work shift.

In the middle of what should have been a pleasant breakfast.

I gaped at Groomloc’s words.

“W-What did you just say?”

“I said, please don’t come to work on weekends. The apprentices are looking at me like I’m filth.”

“Not that! Before that!”

“Before that? Oh, you mean the princess from the neighboring country?”

Groomloc, mid-bite of bread, said,

“I heard that the Fleurden Empire summoned a Spirit King. And it was the second princess, who’s only 11 years old.”

What?

No.

Why?

‘Aren’t they Heroines #3 and #5 from the original story?’

Why are the heroines becoming childhood friends?

Clicker, is this you again?

It is you, isn’t it?

It can only be you.

It’s common knowledge that 90% of the chaos in my life is your fault.

‘Oh, no, calm down. It’s probably nothing.’

So what if they’re on the same side?
It’s not like they’re going to team up and beat the original protagonist.

They’re kind, unlike the other heroines.
But if there’s someone they’re teaming up against?

‘That means it’s at least a Seven Demon Lords level villain, right?’

What other variable could there be?
It seems Clicker’s information was garbage again.

The protagonist will probably handle it on their own.

Fighting! Since they’re good kids, they won’t kill him.

What? It’s hard?

It’s okay. Protagonists are supposed to be lonely.

If you look at other reincarnation stories, the original protagonists overcome everything even after losing their masters, heroines, and opportunities.

You can probably do it too.

I’ll cheer you on from afar while I do my music thing!

“Oh! O-Of course, Chloe, you’re as much of a genius as the princess!”

Did he misunderstand my silence?
Groomloc hurriedly took out a letter.

Like giving a crying child a birthday present in advance.

A letter?

From my father?

Oh! Is it a letter telling me to come home?
This marine boot camp was just WWE after all!

“Huh?”

But as I happily opened the letter, I was confused.

I am now a seasoned otherworlder.

I could recognize the seal on the letter.

‘Isn’t this the seal of the Painters’ Guild?’

And the contents of the letter were even more baffling.

My eyes widened as I read it.

“…An art competition invitation?”