The Villain's Story

Chapter 847: Painting.

The very first was nothing but a blank canvas, even though Alan was using the full might of [Dragon Eyes] to pierce through the darkness that hid it, he found nothing. For a moment, he doubted his eyes. Perhaps they were malfunctioning, or maybe the barrier on the painting was far more powerful than his observation.

But it was simply not the case, the very first was but a blank canvas, white as it could be. Alan sighed, and waited for a while.

Who knows? In this place, perhaps something would appear on the painting if he waited a while, an entire work of art slowly taking shape in front of his very eyes? It could happen... such was the case of the world he was on.

This wasn’t Earth, after all. But alas, nothing special happened, the white canvas remained white, and Alan wasn’t willing to stare at it for hours to ponder some hidden meaning or whatnot. He had no plans to study it.

He moved to the next one, the canvas this time was a bit bigger than the last one, and finally, it held something. Although most of the canvas was covered in black and purple paint, the middle of it held a golden and... a pure white spot. Alan squinted his eyes.

"...It’s changing."

Indeed, in the very center, the spot was changing colors every few moments, one time it was a white spot, the other a golden light. The painting was alive, at least, that was what Alan felt as he witnessed the spot try to grow bigger and bigger, only to be pushed back by the black around it.

It broke into that wave of black many times, forming cracks upon the paint, but eventually, it was unable to break free. Alan shrugged his shoulders and went over to the next.

Most of what he found was like any normal painting back on Earth, a depiction of a fruit, a depiction of landscape, and even the other abstract concepts.

For some reason, the dragon of darkness really liked painting a stick. There was quite a f few paintings like that... with nothing other than a large stick. It was a... shock.

What importance did that stick hold? Who knew? Perhaps it was an artifact of untold power, or just a stick he liked.

The most intriguing were those depicting a landscape. He only found two that caused something within him to shift.

The first was a large painting the size of a wall, depicting Elvenheim, the home of the Elves and the stronghold of the alliance. It was rows upon rows of elven architecture at the outer levels, elven history at the middle. So many things cramped into a painting the size of a wall, but perhaps, the most important lay in the very center, stretching to the very top.

A depiction of one of the oldest things in the universe, The World Tree itself. The Birth giver of the Elven Race, and the only thing that made them able to reproduce. He was unaware as to what else the World Tree could do, or what other significance it served.

But if he was being honest, he didn’t really care. It wasn’t the magnificent depiction of the World Tree that made his blood tremble with excitement and longing... But rather the being coiled around it.

A Dragon of the Soara type, the same as Alan and Kazikato’s forms, the guardian of the Elven Race, the dragon depicted upon every elven flag, and even those of the Alliance, a Dragon revered by the known universe.

The ole reason Elvenheim remained the only world in the Alliance to never fall to any threat, any invasionary force from the abyss. The opposite of Ariel, The Primordial Dragon of Death.

Her brother, The Primordial Dragon of Life, Liorakija. A dragon that coiled around the world tree as if a serpent, boasting a size that made even Jormungander look like a normal snake. Alan’s bloodline reacted to Liorakija intensely.

He let out a hot breath of air, something that was foreign to him. Every breath that left his body was cold, it was the characteristic of a frost dragon. Human blood starts freezing at -2 or -3 degrees celsius, but Alan? His blood was always at that range, and if he focused, he could make the temperature go even lower whilst keeping his blood liquid.

Absolute Zero wasn’t something that hindered Alan, rather, it was the temperature where Alan was strengthened to the maximum... but now?

His body wasn’t listening to him, his blood was boiling, but this wasn’t a harmful change of events, rather, it energized him. It was a refreshing feeling.

It was to be expected, he had the bloodline of the Pheonix, also a Primordial Being of Life. Liorathen’s blood reacted to Liorajika’s presence, even if it was in the form of a painting.

The other one was rather simple, a depiction of a wide plain, a single tree bearing unknown fruit in the lower right, whilst the top of it was filled with mountains. He was unaware why, but his heart, soul... everything felt at peace when he stared at that painting, even though it was ordinary.

It was the only one he had ever seen that made him feel this way, when he stared at it, he felt as if all his worries disappeared, and a sudden desire to sleep in those plains arose. Alan muttered.

"Where is this place?"

[It’s home. Dragonium.]

Ariel responded, longing evident in her sad voice. She must have missed that place. Alan didn’t think she had much of a chance to go there considering her circumstances. Being bound by chains in a realm like hers wasn’t a fate anyone would envy.

’So that’s why I feel so much at peace, huh?’

Dragonium, the home world of Dragons, a Utopia unlike anyother. Alan wished to visit it in person when he was able to, but for now, he had other matters to attend to.

Alan turned his gaze away from the painting, albeit struggling to do so, and looked at the final art piece obscured by the darkness. He had a feeling this one would be special... hopefully it wasn’t a canvas of pure white like the first.