Dungeon Creation (9)
After a sigh-inducing conversation with the perverted apostle, I finally managed to wring an accessory out of him to use as a dungeon reward.
In exchange, I agreed to accept one of the accessories he made and wear it myself.
So, in plain terms, I'd gotten my hands on two accessories made by the Art Sect.
How does receiving rare, expensive accessories count as payment, you ask?
Don't ask me—I don't understand it either. He's the one who shouted, 'If you will simply accept my work, I shall also contribute an additional piece to be granted to another!' of his own accord.
When the craftsman himself is satisfied with that arrangement, who am I to talk him out of it?
And so, with one of my original objectives accomplished, I changed my clothes and stood before the perverted apostle and the face-obsessed fox.
"What devastating power is this!"
The perverted apostle staggered, spewing blood again, but this time he didn't pass out like the first. Instead, blood trickled steadily from his clamped-shut lips, which probably meant he was barely holding on by biting his tongue.
...Something's off. The bunny girl outfit is just equipment that boosts Charm—why does it deal critical damage to this perverted apostle specifically?
Maybe there's a hidden effect on it. Something like 'deals damage equal to your Charm stat to degenerates who would treasure the very air you breathe.'
A hidden trait even I don't know about. Wow~ reality is so amazing~
I was fleeing into daydreams to keep my sanity while staring at the spectacle before me when, at some point, the perverted apostle finished his preparations to paint.
"Thank you for your patience, my lady! We may now begin!"
'What am I supposed to do?'
"What do you want me to do? Spout it out with that revolting mouth of yours—all your perverted little desires, you garbage apostle of a pervert."
"W-would it be possible for you to strike a few poses for me?"
How many times had this man painted portraits like this before? No sooner had I asked my question than he shot to his feet and demonstrated a pose himself.
"Something that lets your signature confidence shine through, my lady..."
'So, something like this?'
"Mm-hm. So our little perverted apostle likes being looked down on like this? What a revolting perverted bastard."
"Yes! Magnificent! Just like that!... Ah. Um. Might I ask for a few more poses?"
What, one pose isn't enough for you?
You're just using art as an excuse to satisfy whatever desires you've got, aren't you?! Aren't you?!
The suspicion sprang up the instant I heard his words, but it settled just as quickly.
Those eyes, devoid of even the faintest flicker of excitement and brimming with nothing but earnestness, belonged unmistakably to an artist.
So there I was, striking pose after pose at the perverted apostle's direction, when the man—who hadn't stopped muttering to himself this whole time—tilted his head.
"I think this pose would be—*khm*! I believe it will do nicely."
You were about to say 'she says it would be nice,' weren't you? Just now.
You heard it from someone and were relaying it out loud.
Strange. There's no one else in this room besides the three of us.
I hadn't said a word, and I doubt the face-obsessed fox—drooling over me in the corner—would have spoken up either.
...Don't tell me the Goddess of Beauty and Art is coaching her own apostle through divine revelation right now?
The goddess who can barely manage her own sect is dropping everything else to focus all her attention on a girl's portrait being painted?!
Come on. That's going too far.
Even for a useless public menace like that damn crow, this is beyond the pale. Yeah.
It's just the perverted apostle losing his mind and talking nonsense. That's all.
'So I just hold this position?'
"How do you even enjoy this? Your tastes are exactly what you'd expect from a sexual predator whose early death would be a public service. Disgusting. I'm going to puke."
"...N-no, my lady. I shall begin at once."
Frete's hand danced across the paper so fast that even my eyes—far beyond ordinary human limits—struggled to follow it.
And with every stroke of his brush came the unshakable certainty that this was the correct line, elevating the very act of painting into a form of art in its own right.
So he's not just a perverted bastard I'd love to crack over the head given half a chance—he's genuinely an apostle of the Art Sect. No wonder the goddess chose him. The man has real ability.
I'd forgotten entirely how off-putting the perverted apostle's mere existence was, quietly watching his brush move, when he suddenly stopped and stared at the painting with a studious frown.
Then, with a sigh welling up from somewhere deep in his chest, he clasped his hands together in silent prayer, took up his brush again, and resumed.
...I thought there was no way, but she really was coaching him through revelation. You useless public-menace crow goddess.
You're truly beyond saving, in the game and in reality both.
The Art Sect had been barely a footnote in the game, yet here it wielded considerable influence in this world—so I'd half expected the goddess to be different from her game counterpart too.
Ha. My mistake for expecting anything from you.
I didn't want to give away that I'd noticed the goddess's presence, so I forced down the sigh threatening to escape.
Given the crow's tendencies, the moment any point of contact formed between us, she'd latch on to an insufferable degree.
One pervert clinging to my side is already plenty, thank you—the face-obsessed fox covers that quota.
I think about ditching this one once or twice a week as it is. I'd rather not add any more.
"My lady! It is complete!"
'Already?'
"Already?"
"I am an apostle of the Art Sect, my lady. Falling short of even this would be unacceptable."
Curiosity piqued by his confident smile, I hurried over to the canvas in quick little steps.
What kind of painting would it be?
An image warped through a pervert's gaze?
The twisted vision unique to a fanatically devoted artist?
Even a subversion—something mediocre and lazy scrawled across the canvas—might have been entertaining in its own way.
'...Wow.'
"So this is what I look like through the eyes of a revolting perverted bastard, huh?"
The painting on the paper was delicate and true to life, yet it was nothing so sterile as a photograph.
The painter's emotion, left behind in every passage of the brush, breathed vitality into the image—a single frame of art in which a whole spectrum of feelings could be felt at once.
...So the bunny girl outfit was capable of inspiring impressions other than 'lewd.' Good to know.
"Does it please you?"
I'd been staring at the painting in a daze, feeling as though I were being drawn deeper and deeper into it the longer I looked, and I nodded reflexively.
'Yes. It's incredible!'
"You like it, you mean? Puhuhu. Yeah~ I should totally take this home with me~ Show it to my idiot of a father and he'd probably try to hunt down and murder whoever painted it~"
"...Then this painting shall become my final work. It was a short life, but I have no regrets."
Resigning yourself to death the moment Benedict comes up—isn't that a bit much?
At this rate you make it sound like Benedict is some kind of mob boss who hunts down anyone who rubs him the wrong way and beats them to a pulp.
Yes, the man treasures his daughter—that much is true—but he's nowhere near that hot-tempered.
I tried defending Benedict with an awkward laugh, but instead of listening, the perverted apostle simply produced a sheet of paper and began drafting his last will and testament.
Ha. Fine. He clearly wasn't going to hear a word I said. Not my problem.
"Haaah... haaaah..."
Following the sound of ragged breathing, I turned my head to find the face-obsessed fox gazing at the painting with bloodshot eyes.
She glared at the canvas as though bewitched by something, then turned her gaze back to me—and without a moment's hesitation, slammed her forehead into the floor.
"Lucy. No—Lady Lucy! Would you grant me the boon of sharing in that painting?! I would do anything for it!"
'Anything, you say?'
"Anything?"
"Anything at all!"
Mm-hm. So 'anything,' is it? A fun idea came to me, and I crouched down to meet the face-obsessed fox at eye level.
"Transform into your beast form, please♡"
The face-obsessed fox was obedient to my command.
Before I'd even finished speaking, she had shifted into the form of a white-furred fox.
I have to admit, her fox form really is better than her human one.
"Sit♡"
"...U-um. What is this?"
"Didn't you say anything?♡ Did dementia finally get you?♡ Can't even remember what you said thirty seconds ago?♡"
The face-obsessed fox is a fastidious creature—perfectly happy to glom onto me of her own accord, but utterly unwilling to permit me to approach her first.
Because of that, I'd never been able to stroke her fur at will, nor properly order her to do anything.
But right now, she was the one who'd sworn to do anything. Out of her own mouth.
I wasn't about to let this opportunity slip.
"You used to beg me to treat you like a pet—what, changed your mind?♡"
"Th-that only applies when I'm in human form! In my true form I—well—that is to say—"
"Mm-hm♡ Reeeally?♡ What a shame~♡ Since you're clearly not that desperate, I suppose that painting♡..."
Thump. The moment my eyes slid toward the painting, the face-obsessed fox's rear end hit the floor.
"So when it comes to your desires, pride and dignity just go straight out the window?♡ What a revolting little beast you are~♡ Nooow~♡ Paw♡"
"H-here it is."
"Hm?♡ Why is the dog talking?♡ Did I hear that wrong?♡"
"...Woof!"
"PUHAHAHA♡ Good girl♡ THIS is what a pet is supposed to be♡"
When I scratched the face-obsessed fox behind the ears, I could see her paws twitching and squirming.
Looks like she wants to bolt. Well, fair enough—I never even gave her the chance to experience this under normal circumstances.
But no. I've suffered at her paws plenty; there's no way I'm stopping at something this tame.
Watching the face-obsessed fox's tail droop as I wore a leisurely smile, I put her through every trick I'd ever dreamed of teaching a pet.
Sit. Paw. Down. And onward from there—stuffing her nose between her fingers, playing dead when I shouted "Bang!" and everything in between.
Smiling down at the face-obsessed fox as she panted belly-up on the floor, I fiddled with her toe beans and let my voice drip with playful menace.
"I wonder what the beasts of the forest would think if they saw you like this~♡ The guardian of the forest, acting all cutesy for a human—what kind of looks would she get, I wonder~♡ I'm just so curious~♡"
"...Nngii."
Judging by how completely she'd tossed aside every shred of pride, she really did want that painting by any means necessary.
Mm-hm. That settles it—my own desires have been sated, and I've confirmed exactly how desperate she is.
Now, is there anything else worth squeezing out of the face-obsessed fox right now?
Nope. I milked everything this one had to offer ages ago.
So where should I put all this desperation to use?
...Oh!
Pfft. Pfffthahaha.
I've got it.
"I can see just how desperately our perverted little fox wants this♡ So I'll make a special exception and give you a choice♡"
"Woof?"
"Pick one: a walk on a leash, or that painting♡"
"...You want me to choose between the two?"
Despite being in her fox form, the anguish carved into her face was crystal clear.
"Yep♡ Just one♡"
"You can't be serious?!"
Listening to the face-obsessed fox's scream of despair, I couldn't hold back my laughter at all.
PUHAHAHA. Ahh. I really am a genius.
To come up with the idea of offering up two equally desperate choices in that split second just to torment the face-obsessed fox!
There you go, face-obsessed fox. This is karma.
You tormented me every chance you got, so shouldn't I get to torment you a little in return?
"The painting. No—wait. A painting is merely an object. It is not inscribed upon the body. What meaning is there in that? The walk, then. No. But to trade everlasting happiness for a moment's—!"
I was watching with placid amusement as the face-obsessed fox clutched her own head in her paws when I heard a heavy thump beside me.
I glanced over to find the perverted apostle's face, soaked in blood.
Given the smile of pure bliss painted across it, the two of them make a lovely matched pair.
I'd rather not lay a finger on anything that filthy, so I'll just leave him be.
Having reached that conclusion, I rose from my seat and headed for my room to change clothes.
Whatever conclusion those two reached, it was bound to take a while, so my plan was to get some training in until then—
But right before changing, one amusing thought crossed my mind.
The Chief God—that pedophile pervert lolicon sexual predator who sits at the center of that crowd of perverted lesser gods including the public-menace crow—wouldn't he hand out extra rewards if I prayed while wearing the bunny girl outfit?
Partly to confirm once and for all whether Armadi really was a pervert beyond all redemption, I clasped my hands together at my chest and offered the daily prayer to the almighty Chief God, just as I had every day lately.
— Ding.
And when my routine prayer came to an end, the notification chimed, right on schedule.
Armadi is moved by your heartfelt prayer!
Strength increases slightly. Charm increases. Divinity...
Excuse me. Lord Armadi?
Why have the rewards increased so noticeably?
I told you it was a sting operation and prayed anyway—why is there a change at all?!
Don't you think this would be the moment to hide your perverted tendencies?!
...I seriously want to fall to the dark side right now.
Come to think of it, couldn't I just build dungeons however I pleased on the evil gods' side instead?
Maybe I should just defect to the Dark Gods already?
— Ding.
What now, Lord Armadi?
It's too late to weasel your way out of it.
That little stunt just soured my faith in you beyond recovery.
If you're going to preside over the assembly of gods, at least have the decency to maintain some dignity.
This is exactly why menaces like that damn crow exist, you know.
I suppose I'll check your message since you went to the trouble of sending it, though.
Your Pride
The dungeon you built at the Academy has become the examination grounds not just for the first-years, but for the entire student body! Prove yourself to those who sneer, "Just a dungeon some first-year threw together"—by making absolutely certain that no one clears it!
...Huh.
I'm sorry?
Come again?