Mythology: Ragnarok

Chapter 314 The Tragedy of Art

At this point, Marcini shuddered, as if he were still in that desperate and helpless situation.

After a long while, he calmed down and continued, "The Spirit Child of the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Races quickly discovered the mistake. They rescued me in just five seconds, but I still suffered damage to many parts of my body due to energy radiation and the low temperature and pressure of space. Fortunately, the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Races has a very high level of medical care, and they arranged for a senior healing priest to use advanced healing magic to save me."

After narrowly escaping death, I fell into a long coma. In my dreams, I saw the world I witnessed in those five seconds countless times: the space fluctuating with energy, the breathtaking scenery, the despairing and suffocating beauty!

Later, I woke up in my hospital bed with a start. The first thing I did after waking up was to pick up a paintbrush that I had never tried before and, according to the impression in my mind, to paint that beautiful scene that lingered in my mind bit by bit.

Thus, 'Otherworld' was born, and I have to admit that it is my best work. In the days that followed, I devoted myself to honing my painting skills, but no matter what I did, I could never create a painting that could be compared to 'Otherworld'.

Even though I can now paint what I see and imagine with unparalleled realism, I still can't take even one more step forward. Later, I realized I was missing something crucial, and that something was precisely what that painter from your hometown possessed.

Hearing this, Xuanyuan Muze asked curiously, "What exactly are you missing?"

Marcini sighed and slowly said, "What I lack is dreams, the ability to fantasize, the talent to create beauty! What's the use of a painting, no matter how realistic it is? It's still as cheap as a photograph. A true painting belongs only to one artist, something only I, Marcini, can create! It cannot be found in reality; it exists only in dreams. It is my fantasy of beauty, my interpretation of dreams. It cannot be replicated, cannot be replaced, and cannot be found in reality!! Only a painting that can achieve all this is a true painting, but I have only created one painting in my entire life: Another Dimension."

But... he's different. The painter from your hometown is different. He's not like me. He's clearly never seen it before, he's clearly never had any contact with it, yet he still painted it. He still dreamed about these things. He... is truly amazing. From an artistic point of view, it's a blessing for your race to have him.

After learning about him from you, I have to admit I'm far inferior to him. I'm just a cheap 'camera,' while he's a true painter. You must be very proud of him, right?

Xuanyuan Muze nodded in agreement, saying, "Many of his paintings are still the most valuable artworks in my hometown. His works truly amazed an era."

But upon hearing this, Marcini shouted angrily, "Money? How dare you use such a vulgar thing to measure the value of his work?! He suffered all kinds of humiliation from you during his lifetime, and now you want to insult his hard work with such vulgar things after his death!"

Seeing this, Xuanyuan Muze retorted, "His works were not recognized in that era. Art that is not understood is worthless. Although he suffered humiliation and hunger during his lifetime and eventually died of depression, at least his paintings were admired by later generations after his death. At least those paintings were preserved in the world, weren't they?"

With mixed feelings, Marcini leaned against the wall and slowly sat down. In that instant, Xuan Yuan Muze could even feel that he was like an old man on his deathbed. After a long time, Marcini finally spoke: "It's a pity that he was born in a civilization that was not rich at all. If he had been born in the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Races, he would have become an art god that all the planets in the country would admire."

However, you have taught me a lesson. I always thought that art was something that only a wealthy country could create, but I never expected that there really is a group of people who would rather go hungry and cold, who would rather live a life of humiliation and pain than not add color to this bland and colorless era, and bring civilization to this era.

You are very lucky, and you have much better things than we imagined.

Looking at the dejected Marcini, Xuan Yuan Muze felt a mix of emotions. In the end, he simply bowed and took his leave, saying, "I won't disturb you any longer. Ethan and the others are waiting for me. It was a very pleasant conversation with you, and I look forward to talking with you again next time." After exchanging pleasantries, Xuan Yuan Muze opened the studio door and prepared to leave.

At this moment, Marcini suddenly shouted, "Traveler! If you return to your hometown, could you go to his grave for me and pay him a visit? Tell him that a friend who has come from afar admires him, not because of the value of his paintings, but because that friend knows just how exceptionally talented he was!"

Xuanyuan Muze stood at the door without turning around, and simply replied slowly, "If I really go back, I will try to help you, if the situation allows." After saying that, Xuanyuan Muze walked out of the studio and closed the door. Marcini stared at the closed door, looking sad and as if lamenting the unfortunate timing of his confidant.

After leaving the art studio, Xuan Yuan Muze searched around for Agrede and Stukov. He soon found them at the literature exhibition. Agrede was looking through some books while Stukov was lecturing him with an annoyed expression.

Xuanyuan Muze walked over and immediately understood why Stokoff looked so annoyed. The bookshelf of those books prominently displayed the title "On Emperors and Politics in the Kingdom of Myriad Races," and Agreed was patiently flipping through a series of books on the shelf, such as "The Merits and Demerits of Emperors," "The Defects of Politics in the Kingdom of Myriad Races," and "A Comprehensive History of the Development of the Kingdom of Myriad Races," nodding and making annotations as he read with great interest.

At this moment, Stukov, who was standing to the side, was impatiently shouting at Agreed: "Can you stop reading these reactionary books? The people who write these books are seriously ill in the head. They've had too many good days and have forgotten what life was like before the Kingdom of All Races ruled this planet."

If it weren't for His Majesty's compassion, any normal monarch with selfish desires would have been torn to pieces long ago—no, they would have been thrown into hell to suffer a fate worse than death!

I advise you to tone it down. If you continue like this, you'll be arrested by the police of the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Races sooner or later. I really don't understand what you people are after.