Chapter 18
Chapter 18
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Artworks
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The world revealed by my right eye was a mere instant. We perceive time as flowing, but within that glimpse, time stood still—from beginning to end, every process and outcome etched into my mind like a seal.
"You've all shot your films, and I've taken the liberty of viewing them through certain means. Truly impressive works."
That was how I'd glimpsed the 131,272,211 re-filmed scenes they'd captured. I didn't remember them all, but I recalled the common thread running through most.
"Videos brimming with violence and sex, blood and drugs, gore and twists—delivering catharsis to the audience. They were quite intriguing. If your works escaped into my world, they'd spark endless debates online, no doubt."
No matter the genre, primal stimulation was always front and center. As if a story without blood, corpses, and murder wasn't art at all.
"But it's all too much. Not every violent work lacks artistry. Some craft clichés from primal thrills, others infuse violence with fresh meaning, elevating it to true art."
Such primal entertainment boils over fast... but cools just as quickly.
"Are the films you're shooting commercial ventures? Or artistic statements? No need to ask, really. Either way, the excessive stimulation dooms them to rejection—commercially and artistically."
I lit a cigarette.
"Even primal works need variety. You can't just scream 'violence and sex' endlessly and expect audiences to love it. No, they won't. Repetition breeds boredom, fatigue, and taints future works with the same disdain."
I drew the smoke deep into my lungs.
"In the end, no one will watch your films. You've re-shot them by the millions, so clearly you're passionate. Please don't take my words harshly—consider them seriously."
Hoping they'd be swayed, and abandon these primal violence-fests.
"No response, huh."
I chain-smoked while waiting, but nothing came.
"A craftsman never settles, challenging himself until the ideal work emerges. People call it craftsmanship, praising their noble perseverance."
No choice, then. Time for another approach.
"Amateurs sometimes ape that spirit. But here's the truth: craftsmanship matters only from a true craftsman. From an amateur? Meaningless. Your re-shoots strike me the same way."
First things first—back to the clearing.
[You.]
[Hey.]
[You.]
[You bastard.]
[You there.]
[This punk.]
In that instant, voices rained from the sky.
[Think you know art that well?]
True to form for the troupe, they weren't one voice but many, overlapping in chorus.
"Hard to say."
I knew art inside out—learning's always key. But I'd never worked in the field or created art myself.
"Still, one thing's certain."
Better than their pointless primal shocks.
"Don't I know it better than you?"
[Fine.]
In that moment, the air grew heavy.
[Think you're such an expert? Then make one.]
[We'll judge your masterpiece.]
[Haha! This dog of a bastard dares claim he knows art better than us?]
Instinct told me something had taken root inside me.
[Go on, make one.]
Like them, I could now invite anyone into dreams, puppeteer them at will. This dream-stage was mine to command—the power had nested in me.
"Two conditions."
[Conditions?]
"Yes. First: don't interfere while I film. No disrupting the work—or even watching. Seeing creation spoils the finale, dulling the thrill and emotion."
[Fine. Deal.]
"Second: judgment by third parties. You're rivals in this artistic feud—your solo verdict wouldn't be fair."
Even the heavens agreed.
[We'll call judges too.]
[You summon yours, we summon ours.]
"Yes, let's do that."
Then they declared:
[Lose, and you'll be our eternal actor.]
I nodded.
"Agreed."
The crushing weight lifted. Was that their gaze? My enhanced physique must've sharpened such senses.
"Alright, then..."
I closed my eyes. The other 98 participants, dragged here forcibly, registered in my awareness.
"Send them home first."
Thankfully, the troupe's gift was intuitive—no training needed, like a simple tool. A few thoughts, and they vanished in a blink—all but me.
"Alright, then..."
Time to film.
'But what to make?'
I knew films and theater, but never directed. Book-smarts without practice? Limited value. Trouble from the start.
"...No."
It didn't have to be hard. To counter the troupe's primal shocks, go the opposite way.
'A pure artwork, devoid of violence.'
What is art?
'Creative expression of emotions, thoughts, experiences, and imagination in varied forms.'
Audiences are individuals—likely the entities judging too.
"Art humanity presents to individuals."
I realized this moment was pivotal.
'An opportunity to reveal humanity to troupe-linked entities through my work.'
Show them humanity's beauty, worth, mystery?
'At least those entities might aid us?'
Cherish humans like jewels, moved by our allure.
"Ah."
Thoughts settled, I wielded the power. The island vanished, replaced by an ordinary city.
'No dialogue.'
No other actors needed. Just me. The dream-manipulation stored everything from here on.
'Words mean nothing if unheard—capturing communication's duality: connection and isolation.'
I walked the empty city endlessly. Hours passed at crossroads, agonizing over paths.
'Human life lacks destination—we merely live. At life's myriad forks, we're insignificant.'
Soon the city faded to desert. I crossed it, quenching thirst at oases.
'Yet in this aimless world, we savor life's rains—like oases—finding joy.'
Night fell. I gazed at the starlit Milky Way. Timeless, spaceless, I became one shining star among them.
'Not just humans—all existence shares this. Nothing special. Humans, world alike.'
In the cosmos, I shed my clothes, baring pure human flesh to all.
'Yet that's why humans are special.'
Nude, I danced through space. Gestures meaningless in void gained purpose through nuance, weaving into choreography that lit the universe.
'Quantum fluctuations birth meaningless chance—this world gains meaning through humanity.'
I pointed at stars, labeling them below, connecting into meaningful constellations.
'Humans deem ourselves special, rendering all special. Naming, imbuing significance, centering the universe on us.'
I extended a finger toward the filming dream itself.
'Even if you're entities.'
So, entities—pity us humans. Won't you become special to us?
"Cut."
I'd crafted footage laden with that meaning. All done, we returned to the island; my film crystallized as a small orb in my palm.
"Perfect."
I called to the sky.
"Filming's complete."
[Finally.]
[Time to punish you.]
[Amateur mocks us?]
[Taste reality's bitterness.]
Amid the clamor, a solemn voice cut through.
[Before judges arrive, we want a look first.]
"Here it is."
The air thickened. Their gazes locked on the orb.
[......]
Long silence, then:
[What the hell is this crap?]
[This is art?]
[Mocking us?]
[This isn't art!]
I'd anticipated as much.
"As expected—you're dopamine addicts. Can't recognize art anymore. No primal hit, no thrill. Tragic."
[Clever. Provoke us to rescue the others? Noble sacrifice.]
"No, this is sincere art. Can't you feel the philosophy woven in?"
[Nonsense! Utter nonsense!]
Time to summon fair judges.
'Can't call humans.'
My power could kidnap them, but this was for entities—judged by entities.
'Who to call?'
The shady dealer? Only met once. Connections aren't just about meetings, but still too soon.
'The blindfolded girl?'
No—she just watches. Doubt she'd come or act.
'Only one left.'
Eyes closed, I invoked the power. From my mental notebook, I summoned what I knew, crystal clear.
[What the—?!]
[What are you doing?!]
[You, you!]
In that instant, the troupe yanked the power away.
[Who the hell did you call?!]
As power fled, I sensed it—that entity, alerted in the instant, barreling in to shatter everything.
[Oh shit!]
[The maniac's coming!]
[Troublemaker inbound!]
[Run! He's here!]
[Damn it! His world?! Blacklisted! Never coming back!]
Then the sky turned vivid blue.
『Fleeting dream, foolish artists, minions of blood and madness, pitiful unpublished playwrights, spawn of hubris and arrogance.』
A colossal blue moon, studded with countless ears, eyes, and mouths, dominated the heavens.
『You dare summon me?』
I greeted it before it was too late.
"Hello."
Eager for judgment from an entity untainted by dopamine.
"Long time no see."