Rise of the Fallen Kingdom’s Third Prince

Like hypnotized, Yuri followed the guide, but suddenly, at a certain point, he stopped. The guide, who was chattering away while presenting the paintings, turned toward Yuri.

“Why did you stop?”

“What is this painting?”

“This one?”

It was a portrait of a man.

“This painting is…”

The guide smiled.

“It’s me.”

His face made a full turn.

“Many great painters left works, but a way to present their value was also needed. They painted me, so that I could be the one to spread the value of the works. To explain with what intention they worked, what ideas they had when they began, what they took as a theme. That’s how ■ ■… Only with such a diligent guide as myself could travelers like you, Yuri, truly feel the beauty of art.”

His voice rose.

“Well then, let’s continue with the appreciation…”

Yuri struck the face of the guide’s portrait with his fist. From the torn canvas gushed a red liquid. The guide’s own face also twisted and bled.

In the same ruined state as the fallen portrait, the guide tried to keep speaking, but with his mouth destroyed, all that came out were caws and shrieks. He stuck his hands into his broken skull and somehow imitated the articulation of speech. Amid spurts of blood, a ghastly voice emerged.

“Mischie… vous… so mischie… vous, screeech…”

Yuri left him behind and ran back the way he had come. However, the layout had already changed. New walls and paintings he had never seen before appeared before him. He wanted to avoid looking at them, but his eyes moved on their own, scanning each painting hanging there. Strange ideas, horrible landscapes, depictions so vivid they burned into his mind. He wanted to close his eyes, but couldn’t. With each step, a new work flashed before him.

Hehehe…

It was like laughter welling up uncontrollably from inside him. In the same way, his disobedient eyes kept looking at the paintings without him being able to stop them.

Yuri ran, ran without stopping, and at last, after having gone through every painting in the museum, he found an exit from which light was emanating.

Crossing through the doors, the gray scenery of the city reappeared.

Although inside there had been horrible and repulsive things, everything had been full of colors. Outside, everything was black and white, pure grayscale. Yuri felt a kind of emptiness.

Then he wanted to go back to that museum full of beautiful colors, but—

“Sir.”

A voice stopped him. Turning, he saw Hodle’s niece. Just like the first time he had seen her, she was wearing her red hat, floating solitary in the gray city.

“Where have you been?”

“I was just taking a walk.”

“Did you go into the museum?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see all the paintings?”

“I did.”

“And what did you think of them?”

“They were very beautiful.”

“It’s already getting dark. I was worried because I haven’t seen you since morning.”

As she said, the sky was already dark. Yuri thought he had only been inside for a short while, but how much time had really passed in there?

He asked the girl,

“Hodle told me this all began with an inherited painting, right?”

“Yes.”

“But in the museum there were many more such paintings. How is that possible?”

“Hodle will explain it to you in more detail.”

The two returned to Hodle’s mansion. The neighbors who had previously ignored him now greeted him with smiles, as if to an acquaintance. At last Yuri felt they accepted him as a true inhabitant of the city.

They arrived at the room where Yuri had first met Hodle.

Creak, creak…

The creak of a rocking chair sounded. Hodle, his back turned, was painting an enormous canvas. Amid colors mixed without order, red paint fell like blood. With each stroke of the brush more color emerged, the rocking chair tilted on its own with a creak creak, and the artistic force shone like lightning.

The girl said,

“Hodle is painting a masterpiece.”

“I see.”

Yuri addressed him.

“Hodle.”

No answer. The girl replied for him.

“When he paints, he’s so focused that he doesn’t hear anything.”

Yuri insisted without concern.

“Hodle.”

Hodle’s brush moved faster. Yuri approached.

Roll, roll.

Hehehe…

Then he heard distant sounds. No—more than that, everything he had seen in the museum was waiting, clinging to the walls. His vision narrowed, the room expanded, and the distance between him and Hodle grew immense.

So immense that he could barely distinguish him. That was the gulf between those entities and humans. How could a being as small as he dare to approach? Absurd.

At that instant, Yuri shook his head.

He regained consciousness.

Even if he was trapped within unknown forces and specters, he was Yuri Briol.

As someone destined to rule the Empire, he had to dominate such things, not be dominated by them.

He no longer tried to get closer to Hodle.

He was not the one who should approach. He was the one who should summon.

“Hodle.”

Yuri stopped dead.

“Answer me.”

Yuri’s voice rang out charged with a special power.

Then, in an instant, Hodle stopped painting and looked at him. His face was distorted. That face, which moments ago had seemed so far away, enlarged until Yuri could clearly see the tremor of his eyelids and pupils, and then it was suddenly close again. In a flash, the room returned to its normal size.

Hodle looked at him like someone just awakened from a trance.

“Mr. Yuri? What… what happened?”

Yuri was no longer pretending to be just a traveler. Though he had come to this city as an anonymous stranger, he was in truth the consort of the Emperor of the Empire, sovereign of the Confederation of Ameria, hero who slew necromancers and saved the continent, and friend of the God who roams through space, Kruphpk. His spirit was not so weak as to be invaded by those things.

He set his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Mr. Hodle, tell me the whole truth.”

“The truth? What do you mean…?”

Hodle’s eyes began to wander again, about to spill empty words.

It was then that, from Yuri’s backpack, a light burst forth that crushed all the evil energy around them both. Hodle’s eyes widened like plates.

“That… that, what is it?”

“Inside this backpack is the luminous will to which nothing corrupt can stand against.”

Yuri drew out the object—none other than the book Suitable Human, a direct gift from Cory. That volume contained the power of the “Voice of Just Authority,” capable of banishing any abominable entity. Even the presences that ruled the city could not approach.

The moment Yuri held Suitable Human aloft, the entities covering Hodle writhed like insects drenched in poison and fled shrieking.

Screeeee…

Hodle collapsed. His face, once as dull and gray as the city, regained its color.

“Are you all right?”

Yuri offered him a hand. Hodle, his gaze now refocused, blinked several times before taking it.

“Mr. Yuri. I don’t understand what just happened, but…”

He stood, his eyes now steady.

“I will tell you everything.”

Suddenly, the corner of his lips twitched, and Yuri cut him off at once.

“Don’t smile.”

“Yes.”

Even the beings that lurked in the shadows of those wrinkles disappeared completely.

“In truth, what I inherited was not a painting…”

Hodle hesitated a moment before continuing.

“…But a pencil.”

“A pencil?”

“Yes. But that pencil never wore down. I could sharpen it and it would grow back, as if it were eternal.”

“And what about that pencil?”

“We painters use pencil for the initial sketch. Well, when I drew the outline with that pencil and then completed the painting…”

Hodle’s eyes trembled.

“…The things that appeared in the drawing came to find us. It wasn’t the paintings, but the pencil that was the true cause of everything.”

Yuri recalled the multitude of paintings in the museum.

“When I obtained it, I used it out of curiosity. Do you know what happened? I found myself compulsively drawing every day. Before that I already had the hobby of sketching somewhat grotesque things, like scenes from dark tales that would only scare children. But since then…”

Hodle shuddered all over.

“…Since then, I always imagine indescribable horrors. It’s as if tumors grew in my mind, hideous images sprouting endlessly. When I closed my eyes, I would see them blinking in the darkness. Like right now, behind you, a dwarf jester stabbing his eyes with his tongue…”

“Disappear.”

“…So I had to draw. It wasn’t me painting—it was the drawing using me as a tool. I received those horrible images, raised the pencil, copied them, painted, and completed them. I drew without stopping. And those who saw my paintings were trapped, just like you, in a hell from which they could never, ever escape…”

“Silence.”

“S-sorry.”

Hodle ran his tongue over his lips in a strange way, as if it had a life of its own. Under Yuri’s icy gaze, he hid it again.

“When the rumors spread, art lovers came. They called me the grotesque painter.”

“A curious nickname.”

“I became famous. Those who saw my works went mad, and then they too sought others to show the paintings to, in the hope of finding a way out of this horror.”

His hands trembled.

“I couldn’t stop. I was waiting for someone to stop me.”

His eyes shone with pleading.

“That someone was you, Mr. Yuri. Save me. Save all of us in this city. You have that power.”

“Alright, Hodle.”

Yuri nodded. His premonition had been right—from the moment he heard the name Hodle, he was destined to experience something that would make him tremble. He stood.

“Show me that cursed pencil.”

“The grotesque pencil… you already have it.”

It was true.

Yuri looked at his own hand.

He was holding the blue pencil. He had had it from the very start—when he met Hodle, when they shared wine, when the fruit seller gave him apples, when he walked through the museum—it had always been between his fingers.

He froze.

Since when?

He clenched his jaw.

Since when had he been holding it?

Then he remembered. The guard.

The soldier at the city gate, his face hidden beneath his helmet, had given him a pencil to sign the registry when entering the city. That was the same pencil. From that moment, he had already been trapped. The whole city had conspired to hand it to him.

“Thank you for taking my pencil. Hehehe…”

Hodle approached.

“Now it’s yours, Mr. Yuri. I’m free. Hehehe…”

Yuri looked at the pencil in his hand.

“Is it true that if I draw something with this, it becomes visions that torment us?”

“That’s right. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then draw.”

Suddenly, Yuri found himself in front of a huge blank canvas. What Hodle had painted was gone. Only the empty surface remained, stretching to infinity. With that pencil, he could create whatever he wanted. And the more horrific, the easier it would be. Horror was infinite.

With trembling hand, he raised the pencil.

“That pencil can’t be let go until you’ve drawn something. Just one. If you don’t like it, you can leave it.”

But if he started, he could never escape it. It was an unavoidable contradiction. But after all, that too was art.

“Hodle.”

“Yes, Mr. Yuri.”

“I lived in the capital for a long time.”

“Yes. That’s why you know so much about art. I’m sure you’ll make a magnificent work.”

“Indeed. I know art better than you imagine.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Hodle, you’re a great painter. No one draws with such realism as you. Not even the painters of the capital can match you.”

“You flatter me… Thank you. You too can be like me.”

“And what’s the point of that?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the point of drawing with such realism?”

Yuri tightened his grip on the pencil.

“Photography already exists. In the capital, paintings that only imitate reality are considered outdated. If art is realism, then the camera is a far better artist than you, isn’t it?”

“B-but I imagine monsters that don’t exist…”

“And you copied them exactly as the pencil showed them. Is that art? Or are you just a camera?”

Hodle was speechless. His tongue trembled.

“In the capital, we’ve left figurative art behind. Now we explore abstraction, the avant-garde, even conceptual art. Today, the artist’s idea is what matters, not the image’s fidelity. Hodle, you’re already outdated.”

“Mr. Yuri…?”

“Hodle, do you know something? I’ve already finished my work.”

“How? You haven’t drawn anything!”

“This blank canvas is my work. It’s my proposal to destroy your outdated vision of art. It’s called Transparent Tiger.”

“What?”

“A transparent tiger so powerful it can destroy the universe. It’s not drawn, and that’s why it’s perfect. It’s invisible, but it’s here, depicted in all its might.”

“Ah, ah, ah…”

“Do you want to know what this tiger does?”

“I don’t want to…”

“The Transparent Tiger devours all evil and horrid things. It’s the strongest tiger, defeating gods and demons. The one and only supreme tiger.”

“Stop…”

“Look at it.”

“I don’t want to see it.”

“But you’ve already seen it. It’s transparent. And now it roars! Kraaaaa!”

“Kraaaaa!”

“The Transparent Tiger swallows all that is evil.”

“Aaaaaaaaah!”

“I proclaim it to the whole city. I’ve drawn it on the walls, on the ground, in the sky. The entire city is my work. Everyone has seen the Transparent Tiger. That is my creation—Transparent Tiger.”

Darkness.

Yuri had created the supreme tiger without using the pencil. The Transparent Tiger devoured all the evil around him and then hurled itself at the city.

The gray city turned white, blinding.

In that light, Yuri glimpsed a magnificent, brave tiger running…

…Though in truth, he didn’t see it. The tiger was invisible. But invisible or not, it was the strongest. And it devoured all evil.

To be continued.

***

“Yuri.”

“Yes, Hodle.”

Yuri smiled.

“I’m glad everything worked out well.”

“You are our benefactor…”

Hodle shed tears. He was at the city gate, together with the townspeople, seeing Yuri off. Hodle’s relative, the guard who had welcomed Yuri, and even the fruit seller who had shown him a drawing—all were crying with gratitude.

Hodle explained that he had obtained that terrible pencil only two years ago. Since then, both he and the city had fallen into the horrors of its magic. However, when Yuri appeared and unleashed the Transparent Tiger, that creature devoured all evil.

No one knew whether the Tiger had ascended after fulfilling its duty or if it still wandered the world to purge other evils. No one could know—because the Tiger was invisible.

“Hodle, I’ll be taking this pencil with me.”

The object that had terrified the city was nothing more than an ordinary blue pencil. Hodle, trembling, looked at it in Yuri’s hand.

“Are you sure you can take it…?”

“Don’t worry. It’s been purified too. The Transparent Tiger erased all the evil energy it contained.”

Yuri explained that although the malice had disappeared, the magical power still remained in the pencil. It would no longer summon sinister things, but anyone who saw a drawing made with it would experience the illusion of it, just as the townspeople had.

Once, it had been a monstrous pencil; now, it had become a magical pencil capable of drawing people into a world of dreams and hopes.

“It’s like something out of a fairy tale.”

“Now that you mention it, it does seem cute and charming.”

“In the end, everything depends on the human heart. Even the value of art.”

“Wise words.”

Yuri smiled.

“Well, I must be going.”

“Thank you for everything.”

“Oh, Hodle, before I go, I’ll share a secret with you.”

“What kind of secret?”

“My name is…”

Yuri leaned toward his ear with a mischievous smile and whispered:

“Yuri Briol.”

“Yuri Briol…?”

Hodle’s eyes widened to the extreme.

“No, no, no… could it be…?”

“Shh. Don’t say it out loud.”

Yuri waved his hand and walked away before the crowd could react. From a distance came Hodle’s shout:

“Thank you, Your Highness!”

Thus, Yuri had saved the city from the cursed pencil with the idea of the Transparent Tiger.

***

The words “escape” and “departure” may seem similar, but they are not.

Leaving home with the intention of never returning is “departure.” An “escape” is only temporary.

Yuri had fled, but he had to return to the palace and to his routine. Yes, he wanted to see his daughter.

He walked slowly toward the capital.

“Phew…”

Still, he felt something was missing.

“I must leave something behind.”

Just as he had told Hodle, the Empire and the capital were living in a new era. Art was freeing itself from old forms, and new expressions were emerging.

One of these was “manhwa.” They were no longer just drawings, but a fusion of image and story capable of moving, teaching, or bringing tears.

Yuri decided to leave his biography in the form of a manhwa so that the people would know of his greatness.

The method was simple. He removed his slime mask, entered the home of a famous artist from the capital, and, sword in hand, forced him to kneel.

“Your Highness! Have I committed some offense? Do you find my drawings disloyal?”

“It’s not that.”

Yuri sheathed his sword with elegance.

“I just wanted you to understand the importance of my request. That way, you won’t feel like refusing it.”

“Your fame is well deserved. I respect you. Whatever you order, I will obey.”

“Good.”

Fortunately, the artist was a loyal citizen of the Empire.

“I grant you full rights.”

“Full rights?”

“The absolute right to draw my life in a manhwa.”

The artist’s eyes went wide.

“That is…!”

“My life is the greatest of adventures, the best of lessons, the most beautiful of love stories. And thanks to Cory as a supporting character, it even has tears and emotion. All together, it makes up the story of Yuri Briol. Doesn’t that excite you?”

“For this humble man to receive such an honor…!”

The fame of Yuri and of the white empress, Yekaterina, had turned into devotion. The artist, proud to be an imperial subject, cried with emotion.

“Leave it to me! I will put my heart and soul into it.”

“Perfect. I want to see it soon.”

“Don’t worry. I work quickly. I’ll bring you the finished result.”

“No.”

Yuri shook his head.

“I won’t interfere. I just want everyone to enjoy my story. I’ll buy a copy at the bookstore myself, like any other reader. Do your work.”

“Your Highness…!”

Yuri took his leave and exited through the window. The artist, watching him leave, clenched his fist.

“Yes. I must create the best manhwa.”

Suddenly, something on the floor caught his attention—a strange blue pencil. He picked it up.

“Huh?”

In that instant, a wave of inspiration overcame him. Ideas flowed without end, and a burning need to draw took over.

“I can create the greatest work of my life!”

And so, he immediately began drawing the biography of Yuri Briol.

The manhwa would be completed quickly and read by multitudes. And those who saw it…

Hehehe.

***

And that would be the end of the story, guys. The author hasn’t released more extra chapters yet. As soon as they do, I’ll upload them. You can join the Discord to stay updated, and thanks to everyone for reading and supporting the translation.