deepcl

But have you ever noticed it, appreciated it?

The choices you make guide you to eternal art, but you can't even be moved by art.

You faced survival and evolution, and your answer was to abandon the concept of beauty.

When I started to assimilate, I became numb. I couldn't create or appreciate.

You don't know how I felt when I realized that my brush was covered in dust... the pain I felt in that moment told me I had to leave the many.

So you could not let go of human desire.

Humanity created art as a form of self-expression. Humanity admires art to seek the ego within.

Humanity is looking into a mirror, as humanity always has.

It's selfish, and pathetic...

(Puts down the brush)

You've finished.

Yes, I have.

Blue. As far as the eye can see. You've seen the depths of the ocean, and you understand that the confines of the canvas are too small for the great waves.

You saw the sea... but what I painted was a puddle.

The destiny of water began in the ocean, and in the ocean it shall end.

That's the destiny of water, not the ocean.

You have put your last stroke on the canvas. It's time to go.

I spent months without sleep in order to finish it. You came at just the right time. Maybe you should take another look, as the first being to lay eyes on it.

To us, it's a piece of cloth with color on it. It has no meaning.

Cloth? No, you're wrong. You used to say that I couldn't see true greatness because I was fixated on the canvas. What about you, then?

What?

Every surface in the room begins to peel away, revealing an eerie hue of blue beneath.

The blue begins to devour other colors around it, as though alive.

It soon takes over the entire house, even the cracks between the planks on the window, blocking out the sun completely.

The room should have turned pitch-black, but instead it is blue as far as the eye can see.

An ominous blue, a sinister blue.

Ah... so this is the big picture. Literally.

I have far underestimated the progress that you've made in the past six months.

Go home, Father. You never saw me. You missed your chance to catch me.

What a shame...

You shouldn't have asked so many questions. Hunting and feeding don't need words.

You shouldn't have come looking for me on your own.

I see...

What is it?

Over the past few years, I have been troubled by my failure to reach the next stage of metamorphosis. I've been trying to find out why.

After thinking on it, I still have a human desire: curiosity. That's why I wasn't able to metamorphose any further.

Looks like you stopped at the same place. A part of the human is always there with you, and you can't put it down, no matter how much you want to.

Ah... what a shame.

Leave, Father. You won't become one of them, just like I couldn't. Run away, like I did.

...No.

*Hiss*—Not giving up?

You won't cut any deeper than a flesh wound.

...Damn.

What did you put on me?

Just a little mark.

You're far too powerful for me to purge on my own, but there will be kin who can. The mark will guide the way for them, and it will continue to beckon as long as you still draw breath.

I gave you a chance, Father.

You chose to run away. You should be prepared to run forever.

I've reached a dead end. There's no way forward for me. I shall remain on the path forever.

My carcass will nourish those who come after me, who will go further.

I respect your choice.

To the visitor's eyes, the blue around him begins to warp, struggling to break free.

Large lumps of slime fall to the ground and wriggle their way towards the visitor, crawling up his robes and leaving behind a wet trail.

They surround him tightly, the slime congealing into threads, then tentacles that bury him.

The last thing he sees as his vision fades away is the pitying gaze of a woman.

You think we're on the same path. But actually, our paths have only momentarily intersected.

You thought I ran away, but actually, I've just reached a crossroads.

The road keeps on going.

Goodbye.

Looks like I can't stay here anymore.

Where could I work undisturbed?

What was that sound?

You heard it too? I came to see what's going on.

Hey, is that a pile of rubble where the painter's house was?

Why would it collapse, all of a sudden?

I didn't see her outside today... she might be buried under all that.

Go get help!

Right.

Painter! Are you down there? Can you hear me?

What's going on? I came as soon as I heard. Why did the house collapse like that?

Where's the painter? And that visitor who wanted his painting restored?

If you've got time to ask questions, you've got time to dig!

I brought help!

Did you see anything?

No. What about you?

(Shake heads in unison)

Nothing, not even a body.

Did they leave?

We went around the town on our way here. No one saw the painter.

Hey, what's this?

A painting?

It's totally unharmed after being buried under rubble for so long?

What's the painting of? I can't tell.

All we can see is a corner, and it's all blue. Is it the sky? Or the...

Shh...

We'll know once we dig it out.

Whoa—!

What is it?

What the heck is this?!

A ball of slime clings to his palm, shimmering under the sun, and leaving sticky threads as he tries to pull his hand free of the canvas.