Building a World Class Empire in another World-Chapter 39: Art

"Five, four, three, two, one." Randel made a countdown, and as soon as he got to one, Lewis, along with all the men there, had a sudden confused look as they stared at the bodies of their men that had died.

They stared at the bodies intensely, yet they could not understand who or what these people here were or why they were seemingly near them.

"Who are these? What game are you playing? Why do they have our armor? There are no people like this in our host," Lewis argued.

Randel smiled when he heard that. He clapped once in victory and then spoke.

"Answer this: how many men did you bring to fight me?" Randel asked.

"Twenty-eight men, and they will be enough to get rid of you," Lewis said.

"Sadly, wrong. You brought thirty," Randel said with a smile.

"I don't know what game you are playing here or what this deception is, but if you want to deceive me about the men I brought, then at least use people I know and not some random people," Lewis yelled and rushed to attack.

Randel smiled. He dodged Lewis's attack with ease and kept speaking. "You can't remember because they never existed—well, to you, that is—but I tell you, those two were your men," Randel said.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Lewis yelled and attacked fiercely.

Follow curr𝒆nt nov𝒆ls on fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com.

"Hahaha, it doesn't make sense, right? My words seem like rubbish to you. Hahaha, the beauty of an existence that never existed.

You vanish from the world, and no one will ever know you existed. Even your soul ceases to exist. Such a beautiful art, don't you think?" Randel asked and then leaned in faster than Lewis could react to, placing his palm under Lewis's chin.

"Truly beautiful. I have to say, this is art—the greatest kind," Randel said, and Lewis fell to the ground, empty like the three.

The men watched this in horror. Their rage rose, and they wanted to attack and rip Randel apart, but as the countdown struck one, the rage remained—yet they didn't know why they were angry.

"This is true art. Art is not something to be seen forever. Art is meant to be a fleeting spectacle, a raw expression of emotion and vision that captivates us in the moment of its creation and experience. It should burn brightly, searing itself into our senses, only to fade into nothing, as though it never existed—never seeking permanence, never bound by time. Its greatness lies not in being remembered but in the depth of feeling it evokes before it vanishes, leaving behind nothing after it is gone," Randel spoke.

He looked at the sky, his palm covering his face in an eccentric manner.

"I have perfected that art, and now you all are witnesses to it—the most superior kind of art. Be eternally grateful to me," Randel said.

"Now, for the final act," he said and vanished. He reappeared next to a knight and touched him before vanishing again. His speed was too great for them to follow.

One by one, their bodies fell to the ground, their existence gone forever. When he was done, all of them were nothing but empty husks on the ground.

Randel pulled out his gloves and put them back on, a smile on his face as he did, feeling fulfilled for what he had done.

He took one step and then stopped, suddenly turning around to look at the tree Aric was hidden behind.

"Interesting," he said. He pointed his finger at the tree. Aric felt incoming danger. He jumped out from behind the tree, and the tree suddenly exploded into a thousand bits.

"What do we have here? A half-elf? With such spirit energy?" Randel said and started walking toward Aric. "Did you watch everything?" Randel asked.

Aric got up from the floor. He looked at Randel with his guard up. He didn't know what this man would do.

Randel paused again. He smirked from ear to ear. "Are those ten higher spirits?" he asked.

Aric refused to respond to that and simply asked his own question. "What did you do to those men?"

"You remember those men?" Randel asked. He raised a brow in question. This was the first time such had happened.

"Why wouldn't I? I watched you take away their lives or something. You spoke of erasing their existence or something," Aric said. While he spoke, his hand hovered over his sword, ready to pull it at any time.

Randel frowned when he heard that. He looked at Aric with enraged eyes. "You should not remember them. You are tainting my art, my creation. You are soiling the beauty that I created," he roared in anger and stomped his feet on the ground. The ground trembled, making Aric almost lose his balance.

"Their existence no longer exists. They were never a part of this world. If you know about them, then that is a mistake in my art—something I can't allow," Randel said.

"I think I understand you now. You somehow made it seem like these men were never born, their story was never written, they never existed," Aric said.

"Yes, and you somehow remember them. I can't have that, now can I? To fix that mistake, I will use you as my art as well," Randel said. He slowly removed the gloves from his hands and put them into his pockets.

He smiled at Aric and then suddenly vanished. Aric was suddenly pulled by metal strings, managing to avoid Randel, who reached where Aric had stopped in a second.

Pentharis caught Aric after he pulled him. "You need to be a lot more careful, master," Pentharis said. For the first time, he had a serious expression on his face.

The spirits all came out. Randel saw them and smiled. "You have all these spirits to yourself?" he asked. "You know, I believe I have a counteroffer for you that doesn't end with you becoming a beautiful piece of art—but that's only if you accept what I say," Randel said.