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Why was \'He\' smiling, when he was so small and alone against such gigantic and numerous enemies?

The white-scaled Monster pondered that question, but he could understand the feeling.

There\'s a certain exquisite pleasure that comes with toppling things bigger than itself. And when their side also has an advantage in numbers? Even better.

Still, Mark didn\'t fully understand that feeling. Is it simply a meaningless pleasure that comes with defeating those "Greater" than one\'s self? With showing them that they weren\'t truly "Greater"? With showing yourself that you weren\'t truly "Lesser"? Or is there something more to it?

He moved to stand in front of the next block, and stared without wiping the dust off.

He stared and stared, Devouring with his eye anything that could be seen through the dust. There really wasn\'t much he could see, but he could feel his excitement building up.

After a couple of seconds, he closed his eye!

Wipe- Wipe- Wipe-

Only once Mark had thoroughly passed his hand over the whole block twice, to make sure every inch of dust had been eliminated, did he take a step back.

There was something about this particular block.

The whole Mural, while lacking in detail, struck a cord. This block particularly important. In a way, it was the culmination of "His" journey.

Had "His" dark flames burned everything to the ground, or was "He" bleeding on the ground, defeated?

Did "He" manage to end the Giants before meeting "His" demise?

Mark thought that the answer to this last question could add veracity to the assumption that the Mural represented History. Of course, even if it went along with the known fact that the Giants had been wiped out, this wouldn\'t be enough to call it History. It could simply be a Myth or an explanation that was thought of after the fact. Still, there was something about it. Mark could sense it.

It wasn\'t Mana. It wasn\'t Magic. It almost felt like Aura. Almost as if Aura was emanating from the painting.

The Aura had been calling out to him.

Pulling him towards this particular block. Now, he was standing in front of it.

But as he was standing in front of it, he wasn\'t so sure anymore.

Was the Aura pulling him closer or pushing him away?

With his eyes closed, he couldn\'t tell.

There was only one answer.

To open his eye, and see it for himself.

Mark took a deep breath in.

He chuckled internally. But couldn\'t bring himself to do so externally. \'I\'m... Almost nervous.\'

This feeling added to the thought that this wasn\'t just any painting. That this Mural was more than a simple mural.

The fact that he felt nervous, made it feel more real. Which in turn, made him feel even more nervous.

Whether it was a Commander, a Forest\'s Spirit, or a Boss Monster, Mark rarely shied away from a fight. Shying away from "experiencing" something, even a Demon Lord\'s Pet, was practically impossible for him. Was a painting more fearsome than those things?

No. It wasn\'t. It couldn\'t be.

It can\'t be. Right?

Mark opened his eye.

His breathing ceased. In a way, it truly took his breath away.

Completely different from the other blocks.

There was less color, but much more detail.

The previous paintings felt almost primitive. While this one was...

\'Those black flames... Weren\'t enough.\'

It was scarier than the ominous and disgusting creatures that roamed the dark forest.

Much, much scarier.

Scary enough for Mark to take a step back without even thinking about it.

By no means was it ugly though.

The uglier, the scarier. That usually holds true.

Not for this painting.

If anything, it was beautiful.

Beautiful, and horrible.

Horribly beautiful? Beautifully horrible? Mark couldn\'t which of the two was the right way of describing it internally.

\'To fight them all... He transformed... And became something... Something else...\'

The whole block only depicted one being.

Mark instinctively understood that it was "Him".

"His" body had become... Different.

Calling it gigantic would be an understatement. In all the previous paintings, "He" had been depicted with the same size. While he occupied about five centimeters, the Giants occupied three hundred, the Dragons one hundred, and the Archers five centimeters.

Their respective sizes never varied, which is why Mark thought the proportions to be true.

But what about now?

The block wasn\'t larger or smaller than the previous ones.

And yet, the drawing only showed one entity.

Not only that, but its hands weren\'t even part of the painting. The same was true for part of its wings.

Seven? Nine? Ten times bigger than the Giants? More?

If the Giants were one hundred meters tall, then that would make it...

Mark shook his head.

There\'s no way, right?

The painting didn\'t show anything else other than its new form. Not the Giants, not its enemies, not the impact the change had on the battlefield. But...

Did it even need to show anything else? Its Form said everything.

Horrible, and enchanting.

Mark couldn\'t look away.

\'Three pairs of wings... Seven heads... Ten horns... And seven crowns...\'

A horrifying, terrible, and dreadful atrocity that, by all accounts, should be disgusting and ugly.

Was it drawn so as not to be that way? Or was it truly...

Mark raised his foot off the ground.

For the first time in his life, he feared the unthinkable. What if he stepped forward and it came to life? What if he took his eyes off the painting and it moved? What if...?

All rationality seemed meaningless in front of it. Illogical fears seemed logical.

In the first place, remaining rational in a world of Magic is more easily said than done.

A Spirit born from the Forest. Is that really any less plausible than a painting coming to life?

Mark hated asking himself those kinds of questions.

He stepped forward.

He got closer to the Beast, and extended his left arm forward.

"Behold..." Mark whispered.

His fear kept growing and growing.

Why?

Perhaps because he had already seen that painting.

Or at least, one extremely similar.

"A Great Red Dragon."

His shaking hand approached the painting.

The next second...