The painting depicting the arrival of the great being was a rare nightti scene. Deep blue pignts were used in abundance, the cold moonlight outlining the one who had descended—a being of countless tentacles.
They were tentacles, not feelers, for they were slender and long. Then, It enveloped the entire island. The other gods seed to have withdrawn, leaving It to reign supre. Its countless tentacles transford into silken threads that wound themselves around the skies above the cities and fields.
So humans and Elves prostrated themselves before It, while the governor and other dignitaries of the Old Empire tossed aside their exquisite wine glasses, so clutching their bathrobes as they fled in a mad panic. The soldiers of the Old Empire began to battle the Rebel Army of Istani.
The Rebel Army was an allied force ford by Elves, human slaves, and the island’s native humans. A shadowy mass of innurable tentacles always lood behind them as they fought, routing the Old Empire’s army and forcing them into a fighting retreat until they were driven back into the sea.
"Looks like this was when the Old Empire’s rule was overthrown." This was the history Freddy knew well. Whenever he recalled this glorious past, even the poorest, most destitute person in Storm City would puff out their chest with pride. This period of alliance against a common foe also ford the foundation for the coexistence of Elves and humans.
And that tentacled monster was... "Clearly our revered Great Is. Heh, how ugly," Freddy said without a hint of reverence.
What was next? They had already walked across most of the original ceiling, and each scene was packed with characters and scenery. It was then that Singrev spotted an inconsistency. "What about the Master of Light and Order? His little brother got his ass kicked, so why didn’t He co get so payback?"
"I don’t know. In fact, the Old Empire was collapsing at the ti." Rorschach knew this was during the "Great Extinction of the Original Layer." ’The Lord of Order must have had his hands full.’ He couldn’t fathom the thoughts of a Divine Spirit from centuries ago.
He now had two questions. First, the "Great Extinction" should have already begun, so how did this "Is" manage to fish in troubled waters and descend to the Material World? Second, judging by the painting of Deryats being pierced by a Light Spear, these artworks were quite realistic. So, who was the badass war correspondent capable of docunting everything, right up to a Divine War?
’At the very least, it was an organization with deep foundations.’
"Ahem. Of course the Lord of Order made a move." An incredibly hoarse voice rang out, so grating it felt like it was scraping the inside of one’s skull.
The sudden reply made everyone jump. The sphere of light swung over to reveal a dark, lumpy mass sprawled on the floor, surrounded by pignts, paintbrushes, and turpentine.
It turned out the "lump" was an old man lying prone, cloaked in a pure black robe. It seed as if no light could reflect off its surface; the fabric concealed all contours and outlines. He raised his head, turned to face them, and flashed a smile full of rotten teeth. "Welco to the Inverted Church. I am its last keeper. Most people outside call the ’Black Cultivator’."
Rorschach was especially tense. He hadn’t noticed the Black Cultivator at all! He had clearly scanned the entire main hall with [Dark Vision] at the very beginning but hadn’t seen a soul.
If he had used so thod to beco invisible, he should have still emitted a Spiritual Light under [Arcane Vision]. Given Rorschach’s pride in his sensitivity to and control over fluctuations in Magic Power, he should have been able to detect so sign of even the most powerful invisibility spell.
’Was my attention so focused on the paintings that I failed to notice him?’ Panicking now was useless. Rorschach could only bring his Magic Staff to a state of semi-activation, ready to act at a mont’s notice.
"You want to know the rest of the story? Co, co..."
As he spoke, he shifted his body to the side. The area that his small, black-robed figure had been concealing, along with a large section of the mural, suddenly brightened, becoming clear under the sphere of light. It was as if the old man had pulled back a curtain woven from shadows.
The murals after the arrival were unfinished; so parts were colored, while others remained as rough sketches. In a completed section, Rorschach and the others saw twelve majestic-looking Knights. They wore flamboyant helts that made it impossible to tell if they were human or Elf. These figures were bowing their heads to a veiled lady wearing a crown.
’A coronation?’ The crown was held aloft by two of Is’s tentacles, which were placing it upon the Queen’s head.
"The Queen!" Freddy exclaid, a look of confusion on his face. "That’s not right. Istani was founded several hundred years ago. How could Her Majesty the Queen have reigned for so long...?"
"When did your current King ascend the throne?"
"Of course, it was..." The poet choked. "I... I can’t quite rember. But I rember the coronation, so it couldn’t have been that long ago. See? I’m still a strapping young lad, not so immortal monster."
"Mm-hmm." The Black Cultivator humd through his nose. Rorschach stared at the painting. The veil made it impossible to see the face, but the long hair and physical characteristics indicated the person being crowned was female. ’Oh, Freddy, my dear great poet, just because you’re not immortal doesn’t an others aren’t.’
The paintings that followed showed the twelve Knights galloping across the island. Wherever their iron-shod hooves trod, the tentacles of Is followed. Old tropolises were taken over, new cities were born, and Churches that worshipped Is were erected...
So Elves seed to reject the faith of Is. They shot at Is with crude spears and bows, a futile and ridiculous gesture. However, the tentacles truly did not reach for them. Instead, enraged Knights brandished their swords and cut down those defiant Elves.
The island fractured, a corner of it severed by the sea.
Rorschach guessed which piece of land that was. "El Island?"
"Correct." The old man nodded, pleased. It was unclear whether he was satisfied with Rorschach’s insight or with how vividly his own artwork conveyed the event.
Finally, there was the unfinished mural. On it, they could see tentacles, far thicker than the tendrils, rising from the earth, accompanied by ooze and strange, unknown creatures.
The black tentacles easily shredded Is’s slender tendrils, while a scorching golden light shone down from the sky. The main assault seed to be aid at the earthen tentacles. Is, caught in the middle, was suspended in mid-air. The side of it closer to the earth was rotten and corrupted, while the side facing the sky was desiccated and fractured, with fierce flas burning upon it.
In the final scene, which was little more than a line drawing, a battered and broken Is, its tendrils nearly all gone, fled into the Void, half-concealed within a nebula.
’That’s just tragic...’ Although the Divine Spirit’s form was just a blurry mass, Rorschach could sohow read a trace of desolation and aggrievent in the final scene.
Freddy and Singrev were dumbfounded, unable to believe what the painting depicted. "So... Is ran away?"
"Heh. It is a thoroughgoing coward. It took advantage of the Empire’s collapse to co here and wreak havoc, then fled the mont Istani fell into crisis. It abandoned Its people, abandoned Its most devout followers, and with its last breath, it still deceived the world!"
The Black Cultivator was filled with hatred. As he spat out his hoarse words, his black robe stirred as if in response to his emotions, though there was no wind. It revealed not limbs and a torso, but a horrifying mass of countless tentacles writhing nacingly in the air, a mirror image of Is from the oil painting.
The Dwarf and the poet felt their scalps tingle. They simultaneously raised their firearms and aid at the Black Cultivator. Rorschach also conjured a Blue Light Barrier, placing it between their group and the old man.
Two slender tendrils pierced the barrier without any resistance and struck the firearms with pinpoint accuracy. Instantly, everything from their tal barrels to their wooden stocks dissolved into a black, viscous ooze.
User Comments
0 comments from readers