Belvedere, with sunken eye sockets, glanced at the "Artist" sitting not far from him, as if unsurprised by this, and then turned his gaze to the tall figure wrapped in heavy armor.
Benson Hamlet.
The latter raised the teor Hamr in his hand, and with each step, the heavy armor on his body clashed loudly.
It walked up to the "Artist" and exhaled hot breath from under its intimidating mask before carefully lifting its leg to bypass the other party.
Everyone on site watched as the first Tuner, known to the outside world as the ’Undying Demon Armor’, the Self-Destructor controlling the teor Hamr, shuffled out of the theater through the ergency exit, shattering what little faint hope remained in their hearts.
The revival of the "Artist" was too sudden; no one would save them.
Xu Xiaoyou locked eyes with the gaze under that mask of Silence, as the floating red Queen of Hearts descended, scattering across the stage, returning everything to a voiceless oppression and silence.
Above the stage, on the do ford by mosaic murals, black waves surged out from the "Storm Song," creating an inverted pitch-black ocean; countless dead souls wailed in the raging waves, and upon close inspection, those undulating black waves were not flowing water but countless overlapping black hands intertwined.
These hands played a mournful, desolate tune with life itself; the wails of the deceased seed engraved in the murals, echoing in the ears of everyone present, sending chills down their spine.
The "Artist" crossed his legs and looked at the two girls on the stage, and a voice indistinguishable between male and female echoed across the entire theatre:
"Dark Gold Rose, what surprise will you bring before tonight’s performance ends?"
At this, the entire audience fell silent.
People’s astonished gazes fell upon the blonde girl in the center of the stage, who wore no mask, had not donned the iconic trench coat, nor wielded two black executor blades; she seed just like an ordinary girl from high society, exuding no particularly powerful aura.
Yet this "Artist" calls her the "Dark Gold Rose"?
The Light Prism Tier Cleaner, both mysterious and beautiful.
"I’m rely an audience mber tonight, maybe I will share so of my small thoughts on this performance at its conclusion, so please continue with your performance." The "Artist" said, snapping his fingers, and all the lights in the Opera House focused on Belvedere in the judge’s seat and the two girls on stage.
The world fell into silence, fear stole the voices of the spectators, and invisible threads turned tens of thousands of audience mbers into string-puppets; they sat in their seats with dignified postures, witnessing this final act as observers.
"Foolish notions, prejudiced opinions, arrogant accusations, clumsy performances, presumptuous naivety, such ridiculous postures."
Belvedere’s deep dark red eyes finally began to fluctuate, the blood frozen for a century started to flow rapidly, becoming heated, fiery flas consud all the residual ruins of anxiety within him, and although his exterior showed no change, the old vampire was already enraged beyond containnt.
"This city is my life’s work, the crystallization of a century of artistry, my lifelong efforts, my ultimate pursuit; it is autocratic because I can’t allow any dirty speck of dust in what I see as a masterpiece."
"Stubbornness and arrogance are because I cannot tolerate the disgrace of being surrounded by fools."
"Why should I listen to the voices of those idiots, they only repeatedly obstruct this great masterpiece’s birth, preventing art from reaching its ultimate glory, one need not argue with cats and dogs."
"I never need to introspect because I never did anything wrong."
"In less than a hundred years, this city went from faded obscurity to such intricate beauty, I turned ruins into a star within the Cosmos, I have given the highest caliber of response to people."
"Yet you only see the suffering and tornt people endured, never seeing the monunts established in art history, never witnessing this mont closest to a Golden Era in art over millennia, never appreciative that I drew you from ignorance to the boundaries of truth."
"Soon, you will witness the subli, open the gate of truth and see what lies beyond it, yet instead, you question , enurate my sins with grandiose rhetoric."
"Who uses grandiose rhetoric to hijack art?" Xu Xiaoyou calmly said, "Belvedere?"
"Art is the focal lens of an era."
"Two million five hundred thousand years ago, when the ancestors of humans had yet to walk out of caves, they struck stones to ignite sparks, lit the first torch, and for the first ti illuminated the dark wilderness, peering into the world outside the cave—can that be called art?"
"When ancestors, using intellect, carved open hard stones with tools, developed habitats, built irrigation projects, irrigated fields, and danced in the joy of harvest born from their hearts—can that be called art?"
"When the world’s first steam engine roared, and people strode into industrial civilization, can that be called art?"
"When the stars began to chase the fields, and the night’s lights were abundant, and people were no longer confined to thought and began to explore the vast cosmos—can that be called art?"
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