Chapter Text
With a heavy sigh Leven he flopped onto his system, not caring that if anyone were to see him, he would be practically levitating. This placed sucked. He wanted to go home.
What he learned is that, something happened that caused this world to fall to ruin. Life was slowly but surely returning to this world. So at least he wasn't here during the start of the apocalypse. But with all the monsters running around causing havoc, violent competition for resources still wasn't painting this world in the best light. Also there was apparently something about demons too? Or rather it was some of the people becoming demons; and Leven can't tell if the rumours he heard were being literal or not.
With how messed up this world was, everyone was just trying to survive, so he couldn't be surprised by how people he met acted. Still it was getting really really annoying at how everyone person he meets, or any place he goes to, someone tries to rob or kill him assuming they weren't too scared of him. Just one person, he just wanted to talk to a normal decent person. Or a cute animal, like a cat. Anything positive.
This was not what Leven thought his isekai experience would go. He wasn't expecting a power fantasy or anything grand, but he would like something other than a depressing, bleak and dark (metaphorically and literally, seriously where's the colour?) world. At the least he got what could be considered an op ability, which he referred to as his canvas ability. He could draw and write on what looked liked a blue tinted glass pane, and mostly whatever was on it would spawn by him with dark feathers. The picture didn't require immense artistic skill or had any limits on himself, which Leven was grateful for. So he didn't have to worry about shelter, supplies and food. Living animals were a no go (they spawned as toys or figures) but plants were fine. He starting using them as markers, plus they added some colour to this depressing place.
And he definitely wasn't complaining that he didn't get an overbearing system, that forced him to do things. His system was pretty much his inventory system, note pad, alarm, a surface to sit or lie down on. It also looked like a normal rpg menu screen, and Leven discovered that he could change it's colour or make it reflective like a mirror. He used that mirror more than he thought he would; making sure that nothing about him changed, and so far everything was still the same. Leven's hair was still his normal dark maroon shade and his eyes still the same light blue it always was. And the moles by his eye and on the side of his neck were still there, with no new markings appearing on him.
Another sigh, Leven hoped that the others he was with made it out okay. And if they got isekai'ed too, hopefully they're having a better time than he was. What bad luck, they were all just taking part in a gothic horror themed escape room, when a fire broke out. He remembered the hearing the building crumble, and next thing Leven knew he was here. Still wearing the same clothes; black plants with maroon belts and straps on his legs, a dark gray long sleeved ruffled shirt, gray boots, a black feather cloak, and a mask that was black feathery wings covering his eyes, the material let him see through it fine. Leven didn't change out of the clothes he was wearing at the escape room. He could have got some more simple ones, but these made him feel fancy and he needed anything to keep himself optimistic.
Leven was thankful that he could use his canvas ability to defend himself, he had to align then draw lines on the glass pane which translated to cuts and slashes on his target. Then feathers would emerge from the wounds, digging deep into whoever he was facing to incapacitate or finish them off. Which were mostly these...nightmarish monsters of mismatched flesh with teeth and weird spikes all over them...and what seems like bleach burns all over them? He's not exactly sure, he doesn't try to get good look at them. At least the monsters melt away after they've been killed, he couldn't say the same for the people here.
He tries not to think about the first person he had to defend himself against, he doesn't remember what they were screaming at him, he saw them charging at him with something, and then his hands moved. There was a cut off scream, with blood and feathers flying.
He doesn't know what happened to them afterwards.
As if to take him out of his thoughts, the clouds above grew darker and rain began falling. Leven slid of his system and held it out in front of him, he drew an umbrella and grabbed it from the emerging black, gray feathers that circled around where he drew it. With the umbrella in hand he began walking down the path. He hummed, and drew yellow and blue rain lilies with his free hand. For another measure to keep him from getting lost, and for something nice to look at if he turned around.
The winds are the voice of the world, and unknown to him, it was whispering praise of it's saviour to all that could listen.