Chapter 7: AI can’t Draw (2)

The Water Spirit King, Elain.

Elain.

The one and only Water Spirit King beneath the heavens.

For the past 50 years, she had not made a single contract.

This meant she had not summoned a contractor.

The reason was simple.

No one had passed her “trial.”

Failed.

You summoned me with such a picture? How shameful.

Paint.

Water, imbued with color.

It was the power of that color to move the Water Spirit King.

That was the condition.

The condition to contract with Elain.

Time spent with a contractor who cannot impress me is nothing more than a waste.

The queen had set the condition to abandon her time.

It was only natural to expect a worthy price in return.

And art was the epitome of the most brilliant beauty.

A treasure that could sway even the Spirit King into obedience.

At least, that’s what Elain believed.

It wasn’t that she had a particular hobby of collecting paints.

When an artist picks up a brush on a white canvas, Don’t they strive to express the most beautiful things they can imagine?

This line is more beautiful than that one.

This color is more magnificent than that one.

Each stroke, carefully chosen, created with the utmost attention.

The most beautiful light and shadow.

These were the essence of the skill of beauty—

Thus, another name for a painting is “fine art.”

Like the true name of a demon, a name defines existence.

Art.

Isn’t the very name evidence that painting is the most intuitive technique for dealing with beauty?

This had been Elain’s creed for a thousand years.

And that was why she felt bile rise in her throat upon seeing the painting before her now.

“Ugh…!”

Elain collapsed to the floor, emptying her stomach.

Not that it had anything to empty—it was nothing but a hollow, voided content.

Pure water droplets, the very essence of her being.

Perhaps it was the tainted fragment of her soul, corrupted the moment her eyes met that painting.

“W-wait, what’s wrong?! Are you alright?!”

The merchant, Chenseps, rushed over, but Elain could barely lift her head.

She simply had no strength left to do so.

No, that wasn’t it.

She just lacked the courage.

Courage to look back at the painting that was staring down at her.

“What… is that?”

A short, strained question from Elain.

Chenseps pointed to the painting on the wall.

“What? You’re asking about this painting? Why?”

Why?

Why was she asking why? What kind of absurd question was that?

Elain glared at the merchant as though she might kill him.

To put it plainly, she felt nothing but anger at his inability to comprehend the situation.

“…Enough. Step aside.”

Her fury drove away the fear and gave her the courage she needed.

Elain gritted her teeth and faced the painting once more.

She had loved every painting in this world.

Had loved.

That was, until she saw this one.

She had always believed that a painting was a miracle—a collection of everything a human loves, brought together on a canvas.

But if that was true, then…

The artist.

The one who created this…

Is this what they think of as beauty?

People say that universal love is the same as loving no one at all.

That loving all things equally is not compassion, but something else entirely.

But if you think about it in reverse,

A being who loves no one,

Could also be said to love all things equally.

This painting was the very embodiment of that universal love.

The artist’s work contained no soul.

The artist had no heart.

This was the kind of painting they made.

This was the kind of figure they wove.

When you looked closely, you could count six fingers in the painting.

Was it a minor mistake due to lack of skill?

No.

It couldn’t have been.

To this artist, even a twisted lump of flesh was just another beautiful form.

 That was why it was painted that way.

Above all, that fact terrified Elain the most.

The smiling face of a person,

The guts of a dying insect,

To this artist, there was no difference between the two.

Both were equally lovable.

The eyes, the nose,

The mouth, the ears.

The delicate hands folded carefully, the shy little chest, even the pale, lifeless walls.

Everything—everything—was treated equally with disdain.

And everything could be loved equally by this person.

Perhaps it was because her thoughts had drifted to the truth hidden within the frame,
But her polluted retina resonated with the blasphemous madness.

The void within the frame.

Beyond it.

In the darkness.

Elain saw it.

The darkness, swarming with countless long, nerve-like tendrils, clinging to the jagged form.

A grotesque mass, silently curled up in a spiral, made of metal—

The demon of the outer world.

“Ugh…!”

In those inorganic eyes, there was no mockery.

Not even a trace of sinister joy.

It wasn’t just that the being was different in its very essence—

It seemed to possess a strange affection for humanity.

The affection that denies understanding—

Was nothing less than terror.

As if it didn’t even understand such a natural emotion.

There was no room for doubt.

In that moment, Elain reached her conclusion without hesitation.

She had figured out the true identity of the artist, Cynthia.

‘A newly born demon…! At least a Demon Lord level!’

If Chloe had heard it, she might have mistaken it for a joke, pointing to the tiny figurine and asking, “What? This thing?”

But what could she do?

It was only natural that Elain’s vision blurred.

After all, there was no confusion for a spirit’s eyes.

A being that paints like this,

A monster that views the world through such eyes—

You’re telling me it’s an ordinary human?

‘What a ridiculous claim!’

Look at that brushstroke, a mockery of life itself.

This was no painting made by a creature with any kind of empathy.

‘Even if it’s not a demon, it can’t possibly be human!’

If Chloe had heard it, she might have responded with [That’s right! I’m not human, I’m an AI! 😊], and Elain might have almost agreed.

After all, it wasn’t entirely wrong.

Because, of course—

The painting had no emotional depth whatsoever.

For an AI, paintings were just noise, randomly rearranged into shapes.

Thus, to the spirits, it was the epitome of the “uncanny valley.”

The early days of generative AI,

Images where creatures and objects mixed with no coherence.

Anyone familiar with that grotesque phenomenon could easily understand.

Chloe, who had been branded “not human” by the spirits, might have rolled on the floor in indignation, but…

“…I have to stop this.”

Meanwhile, a spark of life gradually returned to Elain’s eyes.

Fear, even the fear she had felt, was defeated by anger.

And once again, it was her sense of duty that pushed her forward.

Her opponent was a great demon.

A demon of the highest caliber, hidden in human society, equipped with both intelligence and malice.

‘There’s no way this has any good intention.’

Although Elain couldn’t even begin to understand it, this demon must be growing in some form of malice.

Chloe wouldn’t be able to offer any excuses for this.

Hiding the fact that it was AI-generated and selling the painting was like betraying the essence of it, a betrayal that Chloe herself would never accept.

‘So, I must act carefully and not reveal myself too soon.’

She had to ensure that the sly, wicked demon didn’t escape.

She would not let this demon slip through her grasp.

‘I’ll find it… and eliminate it.’

Elain had once defeated the Seven Great Demon Lords.

What she feared wasn’t the demon’s strength.

It was the unknown nature of its existence.

Now that she had shaken off the fear,

She feared nothing.

For the spirits she loved,

And for humanity, Elain could overcome any terror.

She wiped her mouth and stepped forward,

 Her frozen legs burning with resolve.

And then—

Splash!

She stepped into a puddle of clear water beneath her feet.

“…Huh?”

A puddle?

Under my feet?

Why?

“Uh, um, well…”

Elain blinked in confusion, and The merchant, Chencept, hesitated before averting his eyes.

The floor was covered in water, But its source… was Elain’s clothing.

“That… it happens sometimes! When someone is so taken by great art, they can’t help but—ah, that’s right!”

“No, no! It’s just that my body is filled with the water element!”

Realizing the misunderstanding, Elain frantically protested.

This wasn’t a biological phenomenon, not in the least.

After all, Elain wasn’t human.

This was just a momentary lapse in her polymorph form, causing the elemental body beneath her clothes to leak out.

However,

She couldn’t bring herself to explain this truth.

Because…

What would I even say?

“I’m actually Elain, the Water Spirit King, and I almost lost control after seeing that horrifying painting…”

I can’t say that! I’d die first!

The creator of that horrific painting, displayed for sale in a shop,

Would never understand the chilling terror of a demon that only spirits could sense.

There was no way they would comprehend the level of danger.

In the end, the only thing left was the shame of accidentally soaking the floor of someone else’s shop because of one painting, a consequence of Elain’s fear. 

This was the reason she chose silence.

“Still, you’ll clean the floor. Should I bring a mop?”

“…Yeah.”

It was also the same reason Elain, despite being the Spirit King, humbly cleaned up the water on the floor.

‘Wait. I could’ve just used spirit magic to clean this up, right?’

She didn’t realize this until after she had finished cleaning, making her even more frustrated. 

Elain glared at Chencept in frustration.

“Where’s the artist who sold this painting?”

Her face looked like she was about to grab him by the collar.

Chencept answered, bewildered.

“Why should I tell you the info of a fellow guild member?”

“Oh.”

“Well, they always hide their face, so I only know their pseudonym.”

Elain clamped her mouth shut. Should she reveal her true identity now?

It was too late for that.

Even her mop seemed to whisper in her left hand, “Really? You’re gonna reveal yourself? This would be a black mark that would last a thousand years!”

“Well, if you’re not gonna buy, just leave. You’re disrupting my business.”

“Wait, just a bit longer—”

“Leave! Get out now!”

“Ahh!”

In the end,

Elain never revealed her identity.

Even though the history of Rundraval was long, there had never been a case of a Spirit King being kicked out of a shop with their backside in the air.

After being unceremoniously thrown out of the art guild, Elain looked up at the sky in resignation.

“I’ll need to make a contract…”

She needed someone with power to influence the human world.

 A contractor.

To protect the spirits, Elain’s pride was a cheap price to pay.

And so, a little while later, 

As the first autumn leaves of the year fell,

News that the Princess of Fleurden had summoned the Spirit King shook the continent.

It was autumn.

“Eh?”

It was a cheerful weekend morning, just before work,

The middle of what should have been a happy breakfast.

I was dumbfounded by Grumlock’s words.

“What did you just say?”

“I mean, don’t go to work on the weekends. The students treat you like dirt.”

“No, not that! Before that!”

“Before? Oh, you mean the princess from the neighboring country?”

Grumlock shoved a piece of bread into his mouth and spoke.

“I heard that the Spirit King was summoned in Fleurden. 

And it was the second princess, who’s only 11.”

What?

Why?

‘She’s the third and fifth heroine, right?’

Why are the heroines becoming childhood friends?

Dollclack, is that you again?

It’s always you.

If there’s chaos in my life, 90% of the blame goes to you, that’s common sense.

Wait, calm down. It’s probably nothing.

What if they teamed up?

So what?

They’re not going to start attacking the main character, are they?

Unlike other heroines, these ones are nice.

But is there really someone strong enough to face them?

‘Are you saying this is at least someone on the level of the Seven Great Demon Lords?’

There’s no way.

 I bet the info from Dollclack was completely useless again.

Let it go, the main character will handle it.

Fighting! Since they’re good, they won’t kill anyone.

What? It’s tough?

It’s fine.

The main character is supposed to be lonely anyway.

If you look at any other reincarnation stories, the protagonist loses their mentor, heroine, and even their lucky chance, yet they overcome it with sheer grit.

You’ll probably manage too.

I’ll be cheering from the sidelines, doing my usual thing.

“Oh! Of course, Chloe, you’re a genius just like the princess!”

Did Grumlock misunderstand my silence?

He hurriedly pulled out a letter.

It looked like he was trying to give it to me like a birthday gift to a crying child.

A letter?

Is it from my father?

Wait! Could it be a letter telling me to come back home?

So this military camp is really like WWE after all!

“Eh?”

But when I excitedly opened the letter, I was surprised.

I’m now a proper otherworlder,

 So I could easily recognize the seal on the letter.

‘Wait… isn’t this the seal of the Artist Guild?’

The contents of the letter were even more unexpected.

As I read, my eyes widened.

“…An invitation to an art competition?”