"Radiance."
Beckman's brush touched the painting and he imdiately extended his index finger, which burst into a dazzling brilliance.
The entire gallery was brightly lit, and a shadow appeared on the ceiling, strikingly noticeable.
"Damn it!"
The man in the tailcoat cursed under his breath.
The shadow moved swiftly, racing along the ceiling and walls towards the outside of the gallery.
"Where is the soul drifting? Fall asleep quickly..."
Roderick's deep voice resounded.
The speed of the shadow gradually slowed and eventually stopped. Roderick raised his right arm, his fingers emanating black light aid at the shadow, which continuously trembled and twisted, seemingly struggling and resisting.
Fzzt...
Mona pulled out her revolver and slid the cylinder.
Her other hand swiped at her waist, a golden bullet appeared between her fingers, quickly pressed into the chamber, and she raised the revolver aiming at the shadow.
On her badge, a pair of cat's eyes erged, and Mona's eyes imdiately flashed a purple halo.
Bang!!
A golden fla burst from the muzzle of the revolver, the bullet streaking through the air like sunlight breaking into the shadow, embedding itself into the shadow on the wall.
"Ah!!"
A scream echoed through the gallery.
The man in the tailcoat fell straight down, thudding onto the floor.
His left chest, at the heart, bore a hole the size of a baby's fist, the wound appeared to be charred from extre heat.
The man in the tailcoat collapsed on the floor, twisting and struggling.
"Well done, Mona."
Roderick calmly praised, while Mona did not respond, she simply holstered her gun.
Beckman's hand moved faster with the brush, eventually drawing a line of black paint, dragging out a long shadow on the canvas. Inside this shadow, suddenly nurous pairs of malicious eyes opened.
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"The power of conspiracy indeed makes one's hair stand on end, I shall na this masterpiece 'Peering'... splendid, this one is my favorite among all the paintings!"
Beckman stopped his brush, excitedly declaring it finished.
The man in the tailcoat ceased struggling, remaining motionless as if turned to stone. As the painting was finished, his spirit was completely drained, leaving behind only a lifeless shell.
"Are we saved?"
"Oh Sun above, thank you all so much!"
The guests suddenly felt a sense of fortunate survival, thanking Beckman and Roderick along with other Shelter personnel, so of whom were acquainted with the Mystic Realm, while others were witnessing it for the first ti, all still in a state of shock.
Noah's clenched fist gently relaxed, then he sighed sowhat disheartened.
Floey silently withdrew from the crowd, slowly walked to the spot where the Circus mbers' bodies had vanished, bent down and picked up the "little objects" that had scattered.
"These are very important to him..."
She thought to herself, quietly picking up all the small objects in a blind spot out of everyone's notice.
Not leaving a single one.
Just as things seed to be winding down, soone recalled the eerie aspects of this exhibition and prepared to ask Beckman about it.
Roderick organized Investigators to reassure the guests, while Beckman, standing to the side, exhibited a strange expression.
Pffft—!!
Everyone's eyes widened, witnessing a horrifying scene.
A lady at the front even got her face splattered with blood.
One of Roderick's special deputies had his chest pierced by a black, shadowy paintbrush, his face showing disbelief as he turned his head to look at a manically grinning Beckman.
"Ahhhhh!!"
The lady scread.
Beckman turned, raised his hand with a slap.
With a smack, the lady's head burst into a mush of blood and bone, her voice silenced abruptly as her body fell stiffly.
"Shush."
Beckman withdrew his blood-stained palm, extending an index finger to his lips.
Everyone instantly realized that they could no longer make any sound; their mouths opened in vain.
"You... you're insane, Beckman."
Roderick clutched his chest, desperately using dark light to slow his injury, squinting at the other man.
"It needs more, and you could make a fine addition, Mister Special Envoy..."
Beckman scanned the room, taking in the terrified expressions all around him.
"Everyone here can beco part of the paintings."
Panic began to boil.
All the guests suddenly realized that the most horrific mastermind behind this was Beckman, the gallery owner. He had been playing both sides as a double agent, planning to kill everyone.
This man was a madman!
After the initial shock, the investigators regained their composure and began shooting at Beckman.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang...!!
Behind Beckman's head, the recently completed painting "Peering" appeared, and his body, enveloped in shadows, swallowed the bullets without causing any disturbance.
As the painting transitioned to "Pupil in Painting", his glance swept over the investigators like straw under autumn winds, clutching their hearts as they collapsed.
"Beckman!"
Roderick shouted angrily, raising his hand to release a wave of dark light.
Beckman laughed, and the painting behind his head changed again, this ti to "Deserter." His mouth split open, and he swallowed the dark light wave whole.
Imdiately after, black smoke issued from Beckman, his presence growing more formidable.
"Death can also be a delicacy."
Beckman's deep laughter echoed.
With his laughter, the entire gallery began a violent transformation: wallpaper, carpets, and decorations all "lted" away, as if skinned, revealing the blood vessels, muscles, and bones underneath...
The entire gallery starkly beca a hell composed of flesh and bones!
A pungent sll of blood pervaded, and everyone fell into profound terror!
Beckman gently raised his hand, and a massive easel surged from the ground. He picked up a brush and began to paint. Soon, under the terrified gaze of the crowd, figures like Viscount Picot, mber Lawson, Countess Bradley, and other notable individuals fell immobile, their eyes empty and faces expressionless.
And on the blood-soaked walls, their portraits slowly erged, strikingly lifelike.
People scread with their mouths agape, but no sound erged.
So cried bitterly, so collapsed in screams, but it was all like a silent drama.
A silent hell, a deadly plight.
"Mr. Beckman! This is a desecration of art! You are just a murderer using art as an excuse, a pitiful creature imrsed in ego!"
Noah finally could not endure the agony any longer, overcoming himself to bravely stand out.
Though his mouth silently opened, everyone could feel his anger and rebuke.
They imdiately felt a surge of sha, as this ugly, obese nobleman had previously been an object of disdain, a target of scorn for them.
But now, he was the only one who dared to stand up.
In his anger, Noah's form grew even larger, his fat receding, turning into bulging muscles. He strode forward, raising his fist to smash it down on Beckman.
Smack!
Beckman raised a hand and, smiling, effortlessly caught the fierce punch.
The next mont, Noah was startled to find his body uncontrollably frozen in place.
"You would make an excellent model, Mister Noah... I told you there was a piece here for you, of course to be completed by you yourself."
As Beckman spoke, he rotated the easel in front of him.
Everyone could clearly see that the canvas depicted a muscular, tall figure in the midst of throwing a punch. It was exactly like Noah, as if looking into a mirror.
"I've already thought of the na, it will be—'Shy Hero'."
Noah suddenly felt his spirit leaving him, his body growing weaker and weaker.
Just as Noah thought he was about to turn completely into a painting and die, a silvery mist suddenly appeared in the Bone Gallery.
"Beckman! Let go of my brother!"
An icy female voice rang out.
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