Chapter 123 - 122: Eye of Color
Inside the timeless realm of the System Space, completely oblivious to the schemes and power plays unfolding in the real world.
This time, the new mentor didn’t arrive immediately, giving him time to put the skills he had learned into practice. After countless days of trial and error, he finally had a piece he was satisfied with. It was the accumulation of all the skills and knowledge he had learned.
He sat alone in front of an easel. His eyes were fixed on the canvas, a silent frustration growing in his chest.
The painting before him was a masterwork in every technical sense—a tranquil nature landscape, where an old, gnarled tree stood tall and dignified in the middle of a sun-dappled meadow. At the foot of the tree stood a small boy, gazing up in awe, his form precisely structured with proper anatomy, gesture, and proportion. Each line held a weight. The background had depth. The composition flowed like music. Narrative pacing, spatial framing, visual direction—everything he had learned, everything the system had drilled into his very soul, had come together here.
And yet, the canvas remained black and white.
When it came to color, Rex hesitated. Every time he picked up the brush, the world inside the painting seemed to flinch. He was terrified of ruining the delicate balance he had created—of misplacing a single stroke and having the entire harmony collapse like a house of cards.
He frowned, gripped the brush tighter, and closed his eyes.
Just then, a warm voice echoed through the space, light-hearted and melodic, with an accent touched by the countryside of 19th-century France.
"Haha! It’s finally time."
Rex jerked his head toward the sound.
From the hazy white mists that bordered the space, a figure emerged—tall, with a wiry build, clothed in simple but paint-stained linen. A wide-brimmed straw hat rested over a head of curly blond hair. His beard was sun-kissed and golden, and his eyes—ah, his eyes—were pools of vibrant perception, shimmering with hues no natural iris should carry. It was as if the world itself had poured into them.