Drawing Manga in a Romance Fantasy

Chapter 86

Throb—@@@@

The dark space, void of any sunlight despite it being daytime, was engulfed in shadows.

In that place, a massive stone chair stood, and seated upon it was a man.

The man, with sharp, pointed ears and a beauty that seemed sculpted from stone, resembled an elf of the forest race. However, his dark brown skin, bordering on black, betrayed that he was no ordinary elf.

A Dark Elf.

The elves who accepted the forbidden power of the Night’s Kin. Their leader, Sataniel, gently caressed the deep scar on his face.

Despite the wound being an old one, the vivid pain that surged from it made it feel as if it had just been inflicted.

For a long time, Sataniel had been unable to sleep properly due to the burning agony.

"...So persistent, my brethren."

Even though Sataniel had already absorbed all the power of the true blood, a wound like this should have healed in the blink of an eye.

Yet, the wound, which refused to fade even after so much time, ached incessantly, reminding him of the relentless pursuit by his kin—no, not kin anymore, for they could no longer be called such.

The Crimson Warden.

A secret organization of elves that existed solely to eliminate him from the world.

It had already been hundreds of years since he first fought them.

During that time, the blood of countless elves had flowed at Sataniel’s hands, and unlike them, who grew weaker over time, he grew stronger with each passing year, knowing no fear.

At least, until he met a human two years ago.

"Don't think my death is the end. Fortunately, I managed to take on one last disciple before my life came to an end."

This one will deliver your conclusion in my place.

A human, terrifyingly strong and terrifyingly tenacious.

Even after killing the man who first instilled the fear of death into him—a feat unthinkable for the immortal Sataniel—his anxiety only grew worse.

He couldn’t stand the thought of that dying human laughing, as if he had won.

And the way that young human brat had glared at him with the intent to kill had been deeply unsettling.

“I should have finished it back then, even if it was dangerous.”

Panicked by the first crisis he’d ever faced, Sataniel’s decision to flee had been a grave mistake.

The old human was dead, and nothing threatened him anymore.

He should have pushed harder to completely eliminate the threat.

"The Blueflower... all I need is to get my hands on it."

Sales of Rupert’s older works had risen, as had interest in original literature from this world.

Though Rupert’s storybooks and other novels (mostly knightly tales) had a certain charm and satisfied people to some extent, it wasn’t enough.

What people really craved was more manga.

The demand for another work like The Alchemist of Steel or The Frozen Kingdom, with its stunning visuals and gripping stories, only grew stronger.

“Sigh... if only the author could clone himself and churn out multiple works at once.” “Yeah, imagine if he released, like, five different works at the same time. That’d be amazing.” “If that happened, I’d have no complaints.”

As they chatted about their wishful fantasies, they knew how ridiculous their hopes were, and shared a laugh.

Those who had tried drawing manga for the contest knew full well how insanely fast Rupert was already producing his works.

But to ask for not just one, but five works to be released simultaneously? That was beyond selfish, crossing into absurd demands.

The crowd slowly dispersed, still buzzing with speculation about Rupert’s next project, and the area around the Yuren Trading Company board grew quiet once again.

"Run fast, Ada! Run anywhere, Ada!"

—“My favorite thing is my blue Elsa dress!”

Rupert couldn’t help but be amused as he watched Ada, brimming with excitement, dart around, singing as she went.

At last, Ada was able to wear the special Elsa dress Rupert had custom-ordered for her, and the little princess was overjoyed, bouncing and twirling through the mansion with Lash.

‘But how did she lose weight so quickly?’

One day, Ada’s round belly had suddenly disappeared without a trace.

Though her cheeks were still plump, Rupert, who saw his sister daily, had been alarmed by her sudden slimness and had summoned both a doctor and a priest to check on her.

“There’s nothing wrong. In fact, I’ve never seen a healthier child,” said Michael, the monk from the estate, unable to find a single ailment. The renowned doctor who examined Ada was also impressed with her physical development, marveling at her fitness.

‘It’s a relief that she’s healthy, but could this be normal for an active child?’

Ada now moved at a speed that rivaled Lash without needing to ride on his back, a sight that was equal parts fascinating and terrifying.

Even before, Ada had possessed remarkable agility and speed for a child with her chubby figure, but now she was so fast that even her guardian knight, Owen, had given up trying to catch her.

‘I am no genius, nor am I a knight. I was just... born in the wrong era, one without Miss Ada,’ Owen had lamented after falling behind Ada and Lash, leaving Rupert to console the disheartened knight.

‘I knew including The Avenger might be risky, but it was the right call.’

As Rupert watched Ada and Lash’s chaotic game of tag, his thoughts drifted to the contest results announced earlier that day.

The grand prize had rightfully gone to The Puppet Theater. Out of all the submissions, it had the most entertaining and dynamic story, with artwork far superior to the other two finalists.

White Whale had also been impressive. In terms of depth, it had an almost philosophical feel, with the world seen vividly through the eyes of a young boy—a remarkable piece of work.

‘The Puppet Theater must have been drawn by a young man. White Whale, on the other hand, feels like the work of an older artist, someone with life experience.’

He was looking forward to meeting the creators at the awards ceremony, wondering if they would match the images he had formed in his mind.