ch-4

In a place where no sun rose and no shadow fell…

A realm without time.

A place even gods rarely visited anymore.

Here, a faint laughter echoed—calm, soft, but filled with sorrow.

A figure cloaked in shifting strokes of color sat alone, looking through countless floating mirrors. Each mirror showed a different world—some filled with beauty, some corrupted by chaos, and some broken beyond repair.

The being laughed again. It wasn't because something was funny. It was just… strange.

That laugh was soon interrupted by another voice.

"Oh my… why are you laughing all alone again?"

A different presence appeared—this one with an aura that moved like flowing soundwaves. Notes, harmonies, and vibrations surrounded him as he stepped forward.

The first figure looked up and said with a sigh, "Nothing. I was watching one of the worlds again… and I saw something."

"Another pitiful soul?" the second being asked with a slight smirk.

"Yes," the first being nodded. "A weak human… but he still tried to protect others, even though he had no power. No one would have blamed him if he just ran away. But he stayed. I… was thinking of making him my apostle."

"Hah!" The second god burst into laughter. "Your apostles? Again? Don't start that again."

The first god stayed silent, but the other didn't stop talking.

"Let me guess. You want to improve the state of art again. Restore balance. Inspire humanity. That same old dream. And just like before, you'll give them a system to help them."

The tone grew sharper.

"And just like before, they'll turn into greedy pigs."

The first god's face darkened.

"You've seen it," the second continued. "Your so-called apostles go mad with power. They start with dreams of creation… but end up building harems, chasing cheap fame, exploiting the system… behaving like saints in public while doing the worst behind closed doors. Hypocrites."

The air between them trembled slightly.

"Especially those Chinese variants. They become obsessed with controlling women, spouting righteousness, while doing all sorts of illegal things. They make art a joke. They pollute the worlds you send them to."

The first being finally spoke, his tone cold.

"…Not all were failures."

"Name one," the second god challenged. "You've never had one proper apostle. Not a single one who stayed true to your ideals."

Silence followed.

It was true.

The god of art had failed. Over and over again. His power was fading. Across many realms, art was dying—replaced by greed, copied trends, recycled content, and hollow entertainment. Music was no longer created to move souls. Stories were no longer told to inspire. Paintings had become filters and quick images. Dance, theater, craft—all were sinking.

Because power had entered art.

And with power came corruption.

But the god of art… he still hadn't given up.

"I'm not choosing the same type this time," he said. "This one is different. He didn't crave fame. He just wanted to help. Even when no one helped him. Even when he was mocked. Even when he was weak."

The god of music raised an eyebrow. "And so? You'll just throw him into another world and give him some overpowered tool again?"

"No," the god of art smiled faintly. "This time… there will be limits. He won't get endless cheats. He won't be able to grow infinitely. He'll suffer."

"Suffer?" the god of music asked.

"Yes," the first god said, his eyes glowing softly. "I'll give him Gen-69Z."

The second god fell silent for a second. His expression changed instantly.

"Are you insane?" he whispered. "That system… it was never meant to be used. You sealed it yourself. You said it was too unstable."

"I know," the god of art said. "It has penalties. It has its own will. It has… personality disorder. It's not obedient. It doesn't give clear rewards. Sometimes, it even argues with its host."

"Sometimes?" the music god asked. "It's basically a lunatic. It talks back, it punishes randomly, and it nearly destroyed its last test subject."

"Yes," the god of art admitted. "But that's the point."

"…You've lost your mind," the other god muttered.

"No. I finally understand," the art god said calmly. "The more power I gave, the faster they fell. I made it too easy before. This time… I'll make it hard. Truly hard. Only someone worthy can even survive Gen-69Z, let alone use it properly."

The god of music frowned. "You're risking too much. If this fails…"

"It won't," the art god said, almost whispering. "Because this time, I'm not choosing someone who desires power. I'm choosing someone who wants to save people from power."

The realm grew quiet.

A glowing orb formed in front of the god of art. It showed Zack—a man who had lived a painful life, died with regrets, and yet never stopped trying to protect those around him, even when no one protected him.

"This is the one?" the god of music asked.

"Yes. His beliefs are fragile… but real. If I watch over him quietly, if I let him grow without giving him shortcuts, he might succeed."

"…And if he fails?" the god of music asked.

"Then I'll accept the truth," the art god said. "That I failed again. That maybe art cannot be saved."

There was a long silence.

Then the god of music chuckled. "You're hopeless. But fine… I'll watch too. I want to see what your broken system and your pitiful apostle will do in that slow-evolving world."

He vanished into the distance with a wave of melody.

The god of art stared at Zack's image for a long while.

"…Zack," he whispered. "You don't know me. But I'll be watching. You'll wake up in a different world, in a younger body… in a place where art still breathes faintly. The system you get won't be a blessing. It will be a curse. It will test you. Break you. Confuse you. But if you survive… maybe… just maybe… you'll become the first true apostle of art."

The orb glowed brighter.

And then…

Zack's soul was pulled through the void—headed toward a new world.

A new beginning.

With the unstable Gen-69Z waiting for him.