Limited Extra Time - Chapter 190

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Doomed Extra’s Time

Special Side Story Episode 15

If I keep spouting meaningless drivel, I’ll probably get annoyed.

Carina Leopold exhaled sharply, her expression decidedly reluctant.

“The God of Art’s love… what is this?”

It doesn’t bring me joy.

No matter how much the God of Art claims to love me, isn’t he the one making my life miserable?

Of course, painting brings me happiness, and wielding miracles is ecstatic. But if those miracles are whittling away my life and ultimately destroying the happiness I dreamed of—the life I yearned to live—then I don’t want them.

I don’t want to completely ruin my life that was trying to become happy like that.

‘But…’

Because of the miracle, my dream-self found the courage to venture into the distant Northern Territory. I found courage in the face of death itself.

When I think of it that way, this miracle can only be a love-hate relationship for me.

I want to let go of this power, yet I also want to live while witnessing the beauty this power creates with my own eyes.

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Having finished her thoughts, Carina Leopold opened the book once more.

[Creation is the most magnificent and extraordinary ability among the powers possessed by the divine. Those who possess the miracle of creation are all talented individuals directly chosen and nurtured by the great God of Art. However, the great God of Art unfortunately does not understand that divine affection, when excessive, can become an unbearable burden for humans.]

Carina Leopold swallowed a sigh as she read through the incomprehensible book.

[Therefore, if you reading this book find yourself in distress, know that it was not the great God of Art’s true intention. Miracles are fundamentally blessings bestowed by the God of Art, and opportunities are given to all who pursue art. Those who prioritize art above all else in their lives occasionally manifest miracles. However, because miracles are divine powers, it will be difficult for the fragile human body to endure them. (Of course, this too was not the God of Art’s intention. The God of Art is magnificent and extraordinary above all else, but unfortunately is not perfect, and thus occasionally makes mistakes.)

To prepare for such circumstances, the God of Art devised one countermeasure. It was absolutely not hastily prepared! This is the ‘Ancient Scripture’ written long ago, so this technique has been passed down since ancient times. However, I suspect that as time progressed, it was forgotten…]

The author of this book seemed to be quite fond of the God of Art, and appeared eager to

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shield him. Yet even so, since the author was ultimately human, their voice could never reach the ears of a god.

[The God of Art had prepared for such circumstances by leaving behind in the world a “Sword that Steals Divine Authority.” Naturally, should one wield this sword, miracles would become unusable. Since Art’s Curse is a side effect born from the use of miracles, this sword could also be considered a cure for the affliction.]

What sword? Where was it placed?

She furrowed her brow. The author had written only that such a sword existed, without revealing its location—a fact that left her somewhat bewildered.

[However, since the “Sword that Steals Divine Authority” was created by the God of Art himself, it cannot steal the Authority of Creation, which shares the same fundamental source.]

Carina Leopold paused. Her lips pressed together slightly as she shifted her gaze to the next sentence.

[In truth, the God of Art was originally a being of great freedom and refinement, one who wandered in search of beauty and possessed an appreciation for the elegant arts. He took little interest in the human realm. The catalyst for his attention turning toward humanity was a single human—a woman of extraordinary talent who sculpted magnificent works of art. The God of Art’s aesthetic sensibility was renowned even in the Divine Realm, yet she created sculptures that moved even him to awe. With bronzed skin and draped in a turban, she was a nomadic woman who traversed the desert with chisel and blade in hand, carving into wood and stone, or sometimes dwelling in small villages where she would create sculptures for modest compensation.]

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Once, she had carved a sculpture imagining the God of Art, and he fell instantly enamored with that statue.

The sculpture, shaped as a youth, bore a mischievous and carefree expression tinged with playfulness, golden eyes as beautiful as stars, and soft, tousled hair that was utterly endearing.

Moved by this work, the God of Art descended before her in a form identical to the one she had imagined and sculpted.

Even as a god descended, the woman merely laughed lightly. “What a pleasant evening, Divine One,” she said.

“…You do not seem surprised,” the God of Art replied, making no effort to conceal his bewilderment.

“I was surprised, but since you stand before me in the form I have always imagined, it feels quite familiar. Did my work please you?”

“It pleased me greatly. I wish to possess it. Is there anything you desire in return? I shall grant you a gift.”

The woman opened her eyes wide and shook her head.

Yet the God of Art was not content with this refusal. A desire seized him—he must somehow bind this human of such magnificent artistic talent to himself.

When the God of Art persisted, the woman finally spoke.

“We nomads like us wish for a country where we can settle stably. A nation where anyone can freely sculpt and pursue art.”

The Nomadic Woman and her friends, along with their families, were nomads who traversed the desert and made the streets their home. They desperately longed for a place where they could settle.

Unable to resist the God of Art’s persistence, The Nomadic Woman spoke of her desires, and the God of Art rejoiced greatly.

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“Then I shall create such a place for you. And I shall grant you ‘Creation’—the most powerful authority I possess.”

The God of Art’s assistance did not end there.

The God of Art hoped that The Nomadic Woman would strive further and create magnificent works.

Thus, the God of Art personally crafted a place suitable for weak and tender humans to settle and live—a quiet land that would not be easily invaded by foreign powers.

It was a location in the heart of the Desert, surrounded by three Central Oases.

The Nomadic Woman spoke with great joy.

“Would it be acceptable for you to become the god of this nation, Divine One?”

The God of Art originally didn’t want followers, but because he enjoyed spending time with the Nomadic Woman and her friends so much, he gladly permitted it.

“You may do so.”

With great joy, The Nomadic Woman made the God of Art the nation’s divine patron and, with all her strength, sculpted a statue of him and erected it in the heart of the nation.

Carina Leopold’s eyes widened as she read, so absorbed that she had forgotten to breathe.

She suddenly tore her gaze away and exhaled sharply.

“…Is this the story of the Karlan Empire?”

It was as if an ancient legend had been recreated before her.

At first, she had thought it a strange text with few similarities, but the ancient tale was written with remarkable realism.

‘I thought it was strange…’

Ordinarily, even a single oasis is extraordinarily difficult to form, yet here in this region, there existed not one, but three oases.

Though I could not pinpoint the exact location within the Desert.

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But if someone had forcibly created them, it would make perfect sense. ‘I never realized the First Shah was a woman.’ I had assumed the Karlan Empire was a nation where men wielded greater power, yet I was unaware that the first wielder of authority had been a woman. I never imagined the Empire had been built in such a manner. ‘So gods truly do exist.’

When I was told this story was no lie, if gods existed, I wanted to ask why it had to be me, to demand the reason. No matter how much I pondered, I could not understand. Why I had to live as a criminal when I bore no guilt. Whether all that misfortune truly stemmed from the blessing of the God of Art. Yet no one would ever answer that question for me. Understanding this, I simply lowered my gaze to the next line.

[The Nomadic Woman’s works became widely known throughout the world. All recognized their true worth, and all marveled at their beauty. Each year, the Nomadic Woman performed rituals in honor of the God of Art, offering him the most beautiful sculpture of that year. The God of Art would occasionally descend to the human realm to appreciate the Nomadic Woman’s works and those of the successors she had cultivated, then depart. When the Nomadic Woman fell ill, he would secretly appear, bestow his blessing, and vanish. Yet the Nomadic Woman, whom the great God of Art cherished so dearly, met an untimely death. She had sculpted without rest to establish a nation and performed miracles of creation, and her premature passing brought chaos to the realm. The people began to revere the miracle worker as a prophet. Blinded by miracles, they sought to create another artist of creation, and so they

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offered tributes, forced siblings to pair together, and compelled exceptional artists to unite with other exceptional artists.

The blessing flowed from blood to blood, from land to land. The people of Karlan dared to confine the blessing of the divine within the earth itself.

Blood that should never have mingled was mixed, sorrow upon sorrow was compounded, and a nation that grew in twisted directions was, at last, forgotten by the God of Art for a long time.

“How futile.”

The God of Art muttered in hollow despair.

The first human the God of Art had ever loved could not bear such overwhelming power, and her very soul shattered, plunging the God of Art into profound sorrow.

The God of Art searched the human realm far and wide, seeking another talent as extraordinary as the Nomadic Woman.

He bestowed blessings upon many and waited for them to spread their wings as she had, yet no one created art that stirred the heart as profoundly as hers.

The blessing of the God of Art can only manifest its true power when it travels across the world. Such is the nature of the God of Art.

A blessing that stagnates in one place for too long rots and decays, eventually becoming not a blessing but a curse.

The Creators fall ill, their power weakens, and eventually, merely possessing such power becomes poison.

This was not what the God of Art desired.

Never, it was not.]

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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