Leveling Up by Executing Monsters

Chapter 125: Chapter 125: That’s Not How It’s Written in the Book

Lloyd regulated his breathing, doing his best to slow his heart rate as he patiently waited for the pattern on the canvas to form.

The blood-red special paint slowly spread along the strands of nerves, looking as if a network of blood vessels and nerve bundles were gradually taking shape.

If you stared at it long enough, you could even feel a faint pulsation and tremor, as if it were about to come to life.

Lloyd waited patiently for five minutes. According to the Chief Judge’s experience, the red on the canvas should have already solidified and set by now.

But on the canvas before him, the paint was still flowing and changing.

’Is it because the materials I’m using are too high-quality?’

He rubbed his chin, mulling it over, and then waited patiently for another two minutes.

However, the pattern on the canvas was still changing, refusing to set.

Lloyd quickly leaned in for a closer look.

In reality, the special red paint had already solidified and completely permeated the canvas, using the Nerve Endings as a base to form a pattern of its own accord.

It was just that the pattern itself was constantly writhing and shifting, refusing to settle down, like a restless heart unwilling to be still.

’Fuck, this isn’t what the book described! Someone else’s ritual is a .jpg, so how did mine turn into a .gif?’

Lloyd couldn’t help but curse as he reached out and touched the paint.

’Don’t screw with me at a time like this! What are you, a meme?’

Such complaints were naturally pointless. The pattern continued to change, never even repeating itself.

’At this rate, this isn’t a ’.gif’, it’s an ’.avi’...’

If this kept up, never mind using Veto on the errors—Lloyd wouldn’t even get a chance to find them.

’Is half a month’s salary about to go down the drain just like that?’

Lloyd grew increasingly agitated. He had to shake his head hard, chiding himself internally.

’Calm! I have to stay calm! I’ve always been a calm and composed, cautious young man!’

’Think of something! Let’s see, my skills...’

Lloyd quickly called up his status panel.

’High-Efficient Learning? Useless...’

’Divination? Useless...’

’Extraordinary Swordsmanship? Wouldn’t dare...’

’Blessing Distortion? Not the right time...’

’Twisted Realm?’

Lloyd composed himself, activated [Twisted Realm], and enveloped the canvas before him.

He wasn’t sure what effect it would have, but he had to give it a try.

The moment he activated the skill, the pattern on the canvas became even more animated. The lines even began to dance, looking utterly pleased with themselves, as if they were fish in water.

Lloyd was about to deactivate [Twisted Realm] when he suddenly noticed a change in the *Book of Truth* from the depths of his memory.

It stopped spinning and grew still, then began to turn its pages of its own accord.

After a few pages, it stopped.

Lloyd’s vision suddenly blurred, and the pattern on the canvas before him became indistinct.

He blinked, and the pattern on the canvas instantly transformed from meaningless, chaotic lines into a simple drawing with a clear meaning. The style was similar to that of an ancient mural carved on a rock face, as if a rubbing had been imprinted onto the canvas.

Lloyd had no energy to spare wondering why this had happened; he could only focus all his attention on the "mural," trying to understand its meaning.

The image depicted a tall stick figure, grander than the mountains around it, its head already touching the clouds.

It wandered the earth alone, aimlessly. Its pace was slow and steady as it stepped over mountain ranges and across rivers.

Finally, It came to the edge of an ocean.

Even the great ocean was only knee-deep to It. It continued onward, walking toward the deep sea.

Then, It glanced down and discovered that the once-azure ocean had unknowingly turned blood-red.

It felt a slight pain in Its feet, as if being bitten by leeches.

Its gaze pierced the red surface of the water, looking down at Its own legs.

They were already covered in tentacles of all sizes, like a swarm of leeches, frantically gnawing on Its flesh.

The gushing blood had dyed the ocean red.

The giant stick figure watched quietly for a moment, then, saying nothing, resumed its aimless walk.

This small loss of flesh and the accompanying pain were insignificant to It.

It waded deeper and deeper, the water gradually rising from Its shins to Its waist.

The pain in Its legs had faded, as if It had grown accustomed to it.

Feeling a little tired, It stopped to rest for a moment.

Then, the blood-red ocean began to boil and churn. Tentacles shot out from the surface, writhing madly toward It and letting out a unified, chittering shriek.

It was like an act of prostration, like the singing of a hymn.

The giant stick figure seemed to enjoy this atmosphere, and no longer had any desire to move on.

With Its head slightly bowed, It stood there, slowly falling into a deep slumber, surrounded by the throng of tentacles.

It seemed unaware that beneath the water’s surface, Its legs were now nothing but bare bone, with countless tentacles still clinging to them, gnawing and feeding.

Perhaps one day It would suddenly awaken and continue its journey.

Perhaps one day It would suddenly collapse and sink into the deep sea.

The vision before Lloyd’s eyes came to an abrupt end. There was nothing more.

The pattern on the canvas once again became a chaotic, meaningless mess.

Then, a wave of suffocation and a headache washed over him. He realized his back was soaked through with cold sweat.

He quickly collapsed onto the sofa behind him, gasping for breath.

"Hahh... hahh... hahh..."

He desperately wanted to rest for a while, just like that giant stick figure.

But a strange Intuition was screaming at him:

Now!

Lloyd remembered that the Chief Judge had made special mention of [Intuition] in his notes:

"Trust your inspiration, trust your Intuition, and... trust yourself."

Lloyd quickly pulled himself together, unleashed his inspiration, and locked onto the canvas at his feet. Then, he gathered his Spiritual Power, preparing to activate [Veto Declaration].

"By the power of Veto—"

Halfway through the incantation, he suddenly realized something was wrong and quickly corrected himself:

"In my name, I bestow Blessing Distortion upon you!"

[Blessing Distortion], activate!

In an instant, the chaotic lines on the canvas began to fade. The vivid red turned yellow, then black, then blurred bit by bit until it completely dissipated.

Cracks like weathered stone appeared on the once pristine white canvas.

The entire painting looked as if it had been weathered by eons, so fragile that the slightest touch would cause it to crumble.

But even without Lloyd touching it, it ultimately disintegrated, turning into a pile of fine dust.

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