Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

"Are you drawing?" the nun asked, taking a few steps forward to take in the drawing the artist had created on the table.

“What are you drawing—” Her voice abruptly stopped.

What came into view was a very familiar scene: a wide slope, once a valley, now covered by broken trees and mud and clods of earth seeping from the ground. On that land, there were several scattered ghost-issue weapons that had not been buried by the upturned ground. Moreover, through the perspective drawing, one could see hundreds of undead soldiers, deformed by the weight of the earth, struggling to crawl from the ground to the surface.

This is the place where the nun was not long ago, the place buried by an unknown force that was recently invoked. And now it has appeared here, in the hands of an artist from the world of painting.

"...You drew this?" The nun's fingers trembled slightly, and she subconsciously reached for the scythe she carried on her back.

"I drew it." The artist's voice was gentle and warm, without a trace of hostility.

"Did you do this?" the nun persisted.

"You did it." — The artist added a few strokes to the drawing, depicting several large, overlapping stones above the buried undead's head. Then he brought in a stream, washing the Franzian-style weapons that had not been able to rest in the ground with their owners into the water.

“I can see it, and I can do it,” the artist said softly, “but I can’t do it now, so the one who did it is indeed you.”

The nun knew she wasn't lying, for this was the world of painting, and the living being before her in the form of a young girl was the painter of this world—both painter and creator. The painter, with only paper and pen in hand, could add anything she needed to this world that she had ever seen, regardless of the type of paper or pen.

Within her paintings, her power is almost limitless, and even outside the world of painting, she still possesses a power akin to creation. The only thing that limits her is the special pigments she uses. And as long as the pigments are plentiful, she can create anything.

But she couldn't possibly have any paint right now. The paint used for painting was extremely precious, and even the lesser-quality paints were very scarce, so she couldn't paint anything containing high energy—she only had ordinary ink and charcoal. She could paint food, but not elixirs. She could paint everyday clothes, but not enchanted armor. And it was precisely for this reason that she could, and was able to, remain safely in this library.

For a thousand years, one day, we will never leave or part.

She wasn't imprisoned here; she simply lived here. Perhaps the nun did initially intend to imprison her here, but as time passed and the world changed, all past causes and effects disappeared with the erosion of time—the painter had grown accustomed to this place, and the nun had grown accustomed to the painter.

Their eyes met in the air for about five seconds.

“I want to leave the world of painting, and for that I need you to draw a door for me to leave.” The nun lowered her eyes, thought for a few seconds, and then decided to put aside the painting and the power she had displayed for the time being. “You can make any request, and as long as the request does not conflict with my bottom line, then I will grant your wish.”

"You deliberately sealed yourself off here in the past, but now you plan to abandon it and leave?" The painter tilted his head slightly and asked her.

“I will return, but I must leave now.” The nun replied, “I have some important matters to attend to, so I will not change my mind—if your wish is to satisfy your curiosity, then I can tell you everything I have to say—is that your wish?”

The artist jumped off the table.

“My wish is simple.” Her feet touched the ground, her crimson eyes fixed on the nun. “When you leave, I want to leave with you. While you do your work, I will wait quietly by your side, and when you return to the world of painting, I will return with you.”

"...Why would you have such a thought?"

“This kind of thing doesn’t require much thought to guess, does it?” The painter lifted her skirt and twirled lightly. “I’ve lived here long enough that I’m already tired of it—not tired of life here, but tired of the unchanging scenery. So I’m leaving. I want to see things I’ve never known before, and since you are the guardian of the world of painting, you are naturally my guardian as well. With you, my safety is guaranteed. Besides, you may not be able to find the original painting of Ariandel outside. If I’m with you, your return will not be hindered.”

"...You can draw a knight to protect you; you don't need to follow me."

“I do have this idea, and I’ve even thought of a name and identity for it—it should be called Gale, an old knight who has been through countless battles. Experience and wisdom are its best weapons, while loyalty and a sense of responsibility are its strongest armor. I will call it Grandpa, and it will cherish me as if I were its granddaughter.” The artist tilted his head slightly and suddenly reached out to sketch two bright red fruits in a quick sketch—they instantly transformed from illusory objects into reality, and the fragrance of the fruits quietly filled the small hall.

“But I always felt that was meaningless. Although the creations in my hands are real, the reality woven into them always felt like something was missing. If you had never come here, and painting had continued to decay… perhaps I really would have done that one day. But now that you’ve come, I feel there’s no need for me to waste my time and energy.”

She tossed one of the two apples to the nun, then picked up the other one and took a small bite.

"Try it. Perhaps it's the real thing to you without a doubt. But to me, it's a fake that's almost as real as it seems. I still prefer the pure fruits that strive for sunshine and rain, struggle to grow in the wind and rain, and only mature after enduring hardships. The result of my own hands... even if everyone else considers it real, I still think it's fake."

The fruit smelled wonderful, and its color was beautiful. As the nun held it, the delicate texture of the fruit and its sweet aroma filled her mind, and she instinctively picked it up and gently bit into it.

—The sweet juice exploded in her mouth, and her previously barely perceptible taste buds were fully restored. Her withered heart began to beat, and her decaying blood began to flow—her withered brain, long since ash-covered and incapable of providing any computational power, and the thoughts sealed within it, regained their vitality. A feeling of mental clarity then spread throughout her entire body!

[Damn it! What stupid things did I do before? Is this what it feels like to be brain-dead? Can I really have a brain fart like this?] The nun's pale blue eyes instantly transformed from dull to lively. The gains and losses and responses that she couldn't calculate before quickly took shape in her mind. Countless causes and effects, gains and losses collided in her mind, and finally, a simple sentence came out.

"What kind of fruit is this?" she asked.

"It's just an ordinary apple, but it's a fruit from many seasons ago, and it hasn't appeared in this world for many years... Perhaps it will have an unexpected use for you?" the artist said casually. "See, having me around is still somewhat useful. Not only will you not have to worry about food, but you can also easily change your clothes and other props."

The artist picked up a piece of charcoal and made a few strokes, and a large dressing mirror appeared before the nun's eyes—her hair color changed from silver-white to pale gold in an instant, her clothes changed from a dark nun's coat to a black and red dress, her bare feet were covered by sturdy boots, and a pair of silk gloves appeared on her slender hands.

“I remember you’ve been hunted down by a force called the ‘White Cult,’ haven’t you? Now that I’ve got your help, they’re no threat to you at all.” The artist winked mischievously. “Don’t you think so, Alice?”

Alice examined her hands closely, then looked up at her reflection in the mirror, her figure now completely different from her former self. She suddenly felt as if something very serious had slipped out of her control, a feeling that vanished in an instant.

Alice is a good name, much better than Alice Friede. Anyway, changing my name won't affect my movements, so I'll use this name and this appearance for now... I'll change back when I see my sisters.

However, this makes it indeed necessary to bring her along.

She looked up at the painter who had the appearance of a young girl—she just saw the painter's gray-black long robe quickly transform into a loose red and black coat. Her long braided hair was also untied and draped behind her, leaving only a strand of hair on the side decorated with beads to form a white side ponytail.

“I agree with your suggestion,” Alice nodded. “Then let’s leave together and come back together.”

“That would be wonderful.” The painter smiled. “Painting a door that allows two people to pass through requires paint, and obtaining paint requires time and effort. But before that, I think we should get to know each other better. For example…”

"My name is Shinki."

Transformation - Chapter 8 - The Unpaid King - Fran

“Kamiki.” Alice pondered the name carefully, but didn’t sense anything strange about it. It didn’t sound familiar or unusual, nor did she feel that the name matched the young female painter before her.

"It sounds like a name from the Eastern Kingdom? Is this the name you gave yourself?"

“Oh right, I named it myself. After all, I’m the artist of this world, with neither predecessors nor successors, so naturally, I can only choose my own name—actually, I don’t know what the name ‘Shinki’ means, but I think it sounds beautiful.” The artist lifted the hem of her skirt, a light twirl creating a fragrant breeze. “Don’t you think it’s a beautiful name?”

“Yes, it does sound very nice,” Alice replied.

“If you don’t have any sincerity at all, then forget it.” Shenqi seemed to have immediately discerned the perfunctory tone in her voice, giving her a slightly displeased sidelong glance. However, the sidelong glance couldn’t inflict any real harm on Alice—she simply shrugged slightly and then steered the conversation back in the direction she needed to go.

[I'll set aside what I did in the valley for now—looking back, imitating the elements of the half-dragon Priscilla to acquire the powers she possessed, or even just those she could theoretically possess. Isn't that similar in principle to the miracles of the White Church? To glorify the legends of ancient heroes to recreate their power… After all, we in the Black Church also have our own unique miracles, though releasing them requires meticulous execution of rituals and prayers. But perhaps I just happened to evoke some kind of resonance back then.]

She mentally reviewed the thoughts she had formed in the valley earlier, but this time she didn't feel any resonance between heaven and earth and herself. Slightly shaking the giant scythe behind her had no effect on the surrounding world. She shook her head inwardly and set aside this strange event for the time being.

—Perhaps that's what this painter who calls himself Shinki did? In any case, to suddenly acquire a power that one has never encountered before without warning is simply too astonishing.

“Alright, I’ve agreed to your conditions. Now it’s your turn to fulfill your promise.” Alice glanced at the stacks of books and sketches in the library. “You just said that acquiring paint requires time and effort? So what kind of paint do you need? I think it should be a material available in the world of painting, so getting it shouldn’t be a problem for me.”

"You will have no problem getting it, because one of the key components of the pigment is in you."

"On my body?" Alice raised an eyebrow slightly, immediately understanding what Shinki meant. "My blood?"

“To be precise, it is the blood of a king,” the painter replied, his gaze sweeping over the girl. “You should know that the only throne in this world that is recognized by the world is that of the Lord of Cinder. And the so-called Lord of Cinder is firewood that can be dragged out and burned again after being burned once, or even several times over. When it can no longer be burned, it becomes ashes, and you can obviously be burned again now, so you are now the Lord of Cinder.”

“I don’t think I have the qualifications to be a king.” Alice felt a subtle unease, as if she had suddenly become a monkey wearing a crown. When Shinki asserted that she was the Lord of Cinder, she suddenly had an urge to run away, but this urge came and went quickly, and even with her perception, she could only recognize it as an illusion.

She swayed slightly and emphasized, "I don't think I have one."

"You don't need any qualifications, because you are already the king."

“But the blood of one king is not enough, so some additional preparations are needed.” Shen Qi took out a piece of charcoal from her pocket and drew a simple door on the table beside her with a few strokes. The next moment, a wooden door connecting the sealed library chamber to the outside appeared out of thin air on the wall. She walked over and pushed the door open, and several patrolling knights turned their gazes to her.

Alice waved her hand, and the knights continued their patrol. After eliminating Shenqi and Alice from their sight, Shenqi stepped onto the ground from the naturally formed steps outside the wooden door. After applying a few strokes of charcoal to the ground, a secret door leading to an underground tunnel appeared before them.

Shinki jumped down through the secret door, and Alice followed immediately. After the two of them left, the patrolling knights brought some haystacks and other coverings to block the top of the secret door. The wooden door that had appeared out of nowhere on the wall was also covered with wallpaper, quickly concealing all traces of it.

Then, Shinki continued the previous conversation—as she entered the tunnel, she reached into the wall and took out a lantern, which provided light with a gentle tap. She then led Alice a few more steps deeper into the tunnel, where they found themselves in a mechanical train mounted on tracks. As they boarded, the underground train began its journey deeper into the earth with a soft whistling sound.

Alice reached out and gently pressed her hand on the handrail on the outside of the car, and a thin layer of dust settled on her fingers.

[Did Shinki prepare this tunnel a long time ago? Did she just draw a door?]

[Or did she just casually create all of this? She even managed to recreate the complex mechanical structure and the dust on it… Is the artist really that skilled?]

"Have you ever heard the proverb, 'When ashes are in pairs, fire is kindled'?" Shenqi suddenly asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“…I’ve heard of it.” Alice placed the scythe she was carrying on the shelf beside her, glanced at the young female artist in front of her whose clothing clearly had Eastern characteristics, and then added, “According to the Eastern saying, it means ‘two tigers cannot share one mountain’?”

“A very straightforward explanation, but also quite one-sided.” Shen Qi shook her head slightly. “This proverb is actually more than just a proverb; it’s also a ritual. It represents an important part of the fire-lighting system in the world of painting—you come from the outside world, so you must know the procedures involved in the fire-lighting rituals there?”

Alice blinked, and some memories that had been dormant deep in her mind surfaced as she searched them up.

“Yes, I know.” Alice nodded. “There are two sets of fire-lighting rituals besides painting: one is the normal fire-lighting ritual, and the other is a remedial ritual when the normal fire-lighting fails.”

“That would make things much easier.” Shinki gently placed her ten fingers together, about to explain, but then paused. “Hmm… however, we’re still quite a distance from our destination. If I reveal the answer directly, we’ll have a rather long and boring time. So, perhaps you would be willing to explain the fire-lighting process to me, beyond the drawing?”

Alice rolled her eyes at Shenqi—she didn't know why she had acted this way towards Shenqi, like a peer, or even a junior pleading with an elder. But she didn't mind, nor did she refuse Shenqi's request.

She organized her thoughts and then began to speak.

"As far as I know, whenever a season of linking the fire begins, when spacetime becomes disordered and the world gradually shows signs of instability, the Church and the Dynasty outside the painting consciously cultivate four monsters that absorb a huge amount of souls—they are called the Four Giants, because the excessive concentration of souls exceeds their control, causing their bodies to swell. They also act as a filter; the souls devoured by the Four Giants are purified within their bodies, and then the firewood is formed."

"A hero will be chosen when the four colossi are fully formed. He will then embark on a pilgrimage to link the fire, just like the kings of ancient times. He will roam the land, defeat the four colossi, and then, with the chosen hero's extraordinary will and strength, and with the assistance of the Fire Keeper, further absorb the purified souls. Finally, the hero who has collected enough fuel will enter the Initial Fire under the blessing of the king and the pope, becoming the fifth piece of fuel as he carries it. The weakened flame will then be rekindled."

She reached out and looked at her slender arms, now that she was back in human form. "However, because it's not always possible to find a hero fit to bear the responsibility of linking the fire, the priests of the White Cult devised a fallback method—they would arrest sinners and dissidents, and then, after the current Firebearer began linking the fire, throw these unworthy people into the furnace. Then the missing firewood would be replenished, and it is precisely because of this that ashes, which did not exist in ancient times, have appeared extensively in this era."

She stared at her arm, her fair skin rapidly carbonizing and scorching before her eyes, emitting thick smoke, accompanied by waves of excruciating pain. The carbonized skin cracked inch by inch like parched earth, from which wriggling flames emerged—she shuddered violently, and then everything returned to normal.

"Did you think of something bad?" Shenqi asked.

“It’s not exactly a bad thing, it’s just memories that were burned before.” Alice shook her head slightly, leaning back slightly, her whole body swaying gently with the movement of the mechanical car. “Becoming ashes is not a good thing, but it’s hard to say whether I can come back from ashes—I thought I would only be able to regain my sense of being human when I finally lost my mind and couldn’t help but touch the flames of the painted world, but I didn’t expect this happiness to come so suddenly.”

"And then?" Shinki drew an apple and took small bites. "What's the second plan for linking the fire?"

Alice paused for a moment.

"When the formal ceremony of linking the fire is forcibly interrupted for various reasons, the second alternative will be activated—the great bell at the fire-linking shrine will ring, and those heroes who have linked the fire in the past and become Lords of Cinder will awaken from their slumber. They will then serve as the Four Great Spirits, using their unburnt firewood to pass on the dying flame—this is only a contingency plan. Even if such a flame can be passed on, it will be so weak that it can only illuminate a brief period of less than a hundred years. Its purpose is to buy a second chance for those outside the painting, so that the Church of the Gods and the Kings on Earth can once again nurture the Four Great Spirits and new heroes of linking the fire."

She shrugged.

"However, because a powerful hero unlike any seen before has appeared in the world of painting, the flame that maintains order has been burning for nearly a thousand years. Even the bell that awakens the ashes has rung several times spontaneously under the protection of the safety mechanism because it has exceeded the safe time of the season of linking the fire and no new ritual has been initiated. But the flame is still burning brightly. In contrast, the world of painting has begun to decay."

“You know this world is starting to corrupt, huh?” Shenqi finished the apple, core and all, and then clapped her clean little hands. “The corruption of the painting is actually a side effect of the flame weakening. Similar to the outside world, the flame must be passed down for the world to continue. But unlike the outside world, there is no initial furnace in the painting, or in other words, the entire world of the painting is the initial furnace in the painting.”

"Once the fire is started, the flames will spread to every corner of the world, burning everything old to ashes, just as washing a canvas with a potion leaves everything blank. And I, as the painter, will then be able to begin painting on this blank canvas, thus creating a new world."

"But I stopped the flame from being passed on."

“You did stop it.” Shinki did not deny her actions. “But just as there are contingency plans for failed attempts to rekindle the flame in the outside world, the world of painting also has corresponding measures—once you became the ruler of this world and sealed the flame, this hidden mechanism was activated—this world is actually already giving birth to another king. And you will inevitably meet it in the future.”

"When ashes are paired, fire is ignited—this world of painting is small, unlike the outside world where five kings' firewood are needed to continue. Here, only one is enough. When a ruler emerges in the world of painting, the painting will guide the flow of power to the other vessel with the best potential in this world, or more simply, it will pull in an ashe from the outside and guide it to acquire a soul. And as the literal meaning suggests—'two tigers cannot share one mountain,' when two kings with the potential to become firewood begin to fight, regardless of who the victor is, the loser will passively inherit the flame and become the firewood for the world's continuation."

"And now, the new firewood has been prepared."

The mechanical vehicle stopped, and Shen Qi jumped off. She stretched out her hand, and a biting cold wind rushed into the secret passage through the slowly opening door.

"There are very few people with heroic talent in painting, and I don't know if this is because of your unintentional suppression. But there is a hero slumbering in painting who is a powerful figure you would inevitably forget. That is the leader of the Farron Ghosts, the only Farron Undead Legion member who died a natural death in a mortal body, unable to pass on the flame but possessing the status of a king. And when he is resurrected as an undead under the power of painting, or rather, the curse, you will face your destined challenger."

She pushed open the door, and a huge tomb covered with countless ice crystals came into Alice's view.

“Go, Alice. Defeat her and take her blood as paint. The corruption at this level will not trigger the forced inheritance of the flame, so this is the best time to have the best of both worlds.”

"Go defeat her, defeat Fran, the last inheritor of the Undead Legion before its resurgence. The only unpaid king who named himself after Fran—Fran of the Undead Legion!"

Transformation, Section Nine: Characters and Script

The French Immortals.

The nun knew very well what the Farron Immortals were.

In distant past times, the White Cult was corrupted by various internal and external factors, and when the Black Cult, which he led, rose to power, these undead, who took it upon themselves to suppress the Abyss, left him with a deep memory.