"This is impossible…"
"Meteora" doubted the reality before her eyes, unable to comprehend it at all.
With steadfast, devout faith, she'd followed her god, conquering countless worlds and connecting the minds of countless beings across untold millennia. Over all these long years, through her contributions and the god's favor, she had obtained immense knowledge from Him.
Though incomparable to a certain supreme deity guarding the gate of truth, the Flower Outer God nonetheless possessed extraordinary intelligence and advanced scientific knowledge. Under His rule, Martian civilization had flourished, even creating ether ships capable of traversing space to conquer other worlds.
"Meteora" quickly searched through the vast knowledge she'd received from her great god, desperately trying to find a rational explanation for this inexplicable scene.
She was puzzled, and because she was puzzled, she began to think deeply.
"How are you still alive? Could it be that at the very last moment, you awakened and chose to follow our Lord as we do? No, that can't be—if it were true, I would have seen you long before now… Or did I somehow fail to kill you completely back then, letting you narrowly survive? Even if that were true, how could someone like you so openly appear before me now? I'm now the true Chosen One! The one who receives the most favor from our Lord! I've long surpassed your former self! You couldn't possibly appear here without attracting our Lord's attention!"
"Oh! I understand now… You're not the real Clytie Van Gogh at all! You're just an illusion born from my lingering obsession with Clytie Van Gogh. Yes, that's right—the real Van Gogh was killed by me long ago. I've surpassed you long ago! Killing you now is no harder than crushing an ant!"
With just a thought, "Meteora" shattered the illusion of the girl before her. Watching the figure dissolve into nothingness, she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
Yes, it was merely an illusion—a flaw in her heart.
Back then, she'd easily crushed Van Gogh like stepping on an ant. Now, she would only find it even easier.
Besides, she was the most favored follower of the Flower Outer God, receiving the greatest attention. While she herself might be careless enough to let Van Gogh survive by luck, her god would never make such a careless mistake, let alone allow Van Gogh to appear openly in front of her.
"Hehe… Frightened by my own delusions. How immature. How can this be acceptable? I am my Lord's most trusted follower, having received His grace. I must dedicate my body and soul completely to Him, tirelessly resolving His troubles, becoming ever more diligent, ever more vigilant, eliminating all flaws and imperfections…"
"But... living that way must be really tiring, right? If it were Van Gogh… Actually, as long as I can eat until I'm full every day, relax and bask in the sun on a comfortable chair, and paint together with my friends every day… painting whatever I want... sunflowers, streets, cafes, wheat fields, starry skies, cities under nightfall... just living that kind of life is already more than enough... hehehe…"
"Meteora" saw Van Gogh once more, standing openly before her without any guard, a sunny smile on her face.
"Meteora" stared blankly at the girl, utterly speechless, unable to react for a long time.
"…What a stubborn illusion."
It was viciously persistent—exactly like the real Van Gogh. Memories she'd deeply buried, never wanting to recall, surged to the surface, causing uncontrollable anger and jealousy within "Meteora."
Thus, the hidden fury in her heart surged forth as a destructive wave, once again shattering the illusion before her. She washed away even the fragments repeatedly, venting her anger long after the girl's figure had vanished, leaving only emptiness.
This heart demon was far more stubborn and troublesome than she'd imagined. "Meteora" began to realize she alone might never eliminate this illusion completely. She couldn't achieve perfection by relying only on herself.
Even though it might lower her god's opinion of her, "Meteora" finally gave in helplessly, deciding to request her god's assistance to resolve the issue.
Right now, she was her god's most beloved follower—in simpler terms, she was the god's favorite. As long as she submitted a request, her god would surely respond, casting His gaze upon her.
Thus, she reverently called upon her god, explaining the situation and humbly asking for help. To her great excitement, her god indeed responded…
"The reason you've never been able to banish me completely is because… I'm not an illusion at all."
"!!!"
Hearing the hateful voice haunting her like a nightmare, "Meteora" stared ahead in shock… she saw no divine projection from her god, only the smiling girl with short orange hair.
She hadn't returned to their stronghold. The surroundings were still pure white nothingness, like an unpainted canvas.
"You... you..."
Why?
Why are you here?
Where is my Lord?
How are you still alive?
What did you just mean?
Am I dreaming right now, or is this reality?
In an instant, a flood of questions surged through "Meteora's" mind. She desperately wanted answers, wanted an outlet for her overflowing emotions—but she couldn't bring herself to speak to the girl before her. She couldn't bear such humiliation!
"Hmm… Your mind seems full of questions. Do you want Van Gogh to explain them for you? We have plenty of time. We can chat over afternoon tea…"
In the empty space, Van Gogh sat down holding her paintbrush… onto a carved wooden chair that suddenly appeared beneath her.
Under "Meteora's" own body, another identical carved wooden chair appeared. Between them stood a matching table with an embroidered cloth, a complete tea set emanating the soothing fragrance of black tea, and delicate pastries arranged beside porcelain cups. Beneath their feet lay an ornate carpet.
"Meteora" had no idea when these things appeared, nor did she know when she had even sat down.
The moment she realized, her anger nearly overwhelmed her sanity. She immediately stood and overturned the entire table, scattering tea and pastries everywhere.
"Are you mocking me?!"
The flying table never struck Van Gogh; it vanished entirely, as if it had never existed.
Van Gogh smiled, still seated calmly, the porcelain plate of pastries resting neatly upon her lap, teacup in hand.
"No, nothing like that. Van Gogh just... wants to chat properly with you… hehehe…"
"Meteora" had lost all patience with the girl's nonsense.
With a wave of her hand, waves of chaos shattered everything before her—Van Gogh, chairs, tea set, pastries—devoured by the void.
But soon enough, she saw that annoying face again, heard that nauseating voice again.
"We meet again—"
"…"
"Van Gogh just wants to chat—"
"…"
"Care to sit and rest for a bit?"
"…"
"You look very tired…"
"…"
"Munch munch... Chew chew…"
"Shut up! Enough! Who makes loud chewing sounds and then actually says the words 'chew chew' while eating?!"
Van Gogh froze mid-bite, staring blankly for a long moment before suddenly giving "Meteora" an enthusiastic thumbs-up, eyes sparkling brightly.
"Nice! Excellent tsukkomi."
"Meteora" raised her hand, prepared to obliterate this senseless fool destroying the atmosphere—but ultimately, she just couldn't. Defeated, she sank back into the carved wooden chair.
"What exactly... have you done to me?"
"Oh?"
Seeing the other side finally surrender and ready to talk seriously, Van Gogh quickly stuffed the last pastry into her mouth, wiped her hands carelessly on her clothes, sat up properly, and smiled gently at "Meteora."
"Van Gogh simply took some colors from you, then used that pigment to paint a picture just for you. Because this painting was made specifically for you… what it reflects are your truest wishes, the future you desire most… Umm… although arbitrarily judging and evaluating someone else's thoughts isn't exactly commendable, individuality and differences should be respected… even if one can't understand others' thoughts, one should respect their right to fantasize… but… the future you desired, Van Gogh doesn't like very much."
"Meteora" stared at Van Gogh, her eyes wide with shock, panic, bewilderment, confusion, anger—a chaotic blend of negative emotions.
"When…?"
"Hmm… Since an Outer God set his sights on this world, it put enormous pressure on me. Moreover, since this Outer God has quite a connection to Van Gogh, I have to take responsibility properly…"
"I'm—asking—you—! Exactly when did you seal me inside this painting!!"
Hearing this, Van Gogh blinked slowly, eyes sky-blue as the heavens, then tilted her head slightly.
"In that case, Van Gogh also wants to ask… when did you get the illusion that you weren't already inside a painting?"
"!!!"
At that instant, "Meteora" felt Van Gogh become terrifying. Just a simple gaze pressured her greatly, causing her to rise from her chair abruptly.
After a moment of silence, "Meteora" suddenly burst into laughter, her voice echoing wildly with madness.
"Ha… Haha… Hahahahaha!"
"Ridiculous! Absurd! Nonsense! Did you think you could scare me like that?! Did you think just by saying it, I would believe such rubbish? Don't underestimate me!"
"Meteora" snarled fiercely at Van Gogh:
"Seal me inside a painting? With what power could you make such a powerful painting? My Lord has long cast His gaze upon me. I hold His divinity as you do. Your tricks from my Lord's power can't fool me, and your blessing from another Outer God was used to save your friends. You can't deceive me with nonsense like this! Idiot! Naïve!"
Van Gogh merely smiled silently.
Yet "Meteora" still heard a sound—
Coming from beyond time, the frenzied pounding of drums, the thin monotonous defilement of flutes—
And laughter.
As if thousands were laughing.
"They pursue amusing things… They love amusing stories…"
One of the Supreme Three had cast its gaze here.
"Meteora" froze with dread.
"You've attracted… Nyarlathotep…?!"
---
T/N: munch munch and chewing on that missing chapter for the week because i decided to cliffhang you guys
munch munch chew chew tasty
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