Ants

Ants did not need to think, nor did they need to question anything. They only needed to complete their tasks.

"I want to paint a mural here."

"Why?"

"Because it'll look nice."

Another inexplicable thought appeared in his mind.

To carry out that thought, he had to find pigments.

As if to cooperate with him, suitable pigments drifted over on the white sea after that thought occurred to him.

There were all kinds of colors. Some were colorful minerals, some were richly colored plants, and some were the bones of strange creatures. Once the bones were ground into powder, they produced unusual colors.

He suddenly realized that he seemed to innately understand how to process these pigments—how to extract them, mix them, and adjust their colors. That knowledge had naturally appeared in his mind as well.

He was not particularly surprised. In fact, he had already grown used to it. Whatever Darkness asked of him, he did it. All he had to do was fulfill an ant's duty. There was no need to think so much.

However, after processing all the pigments, he stood before the stone wall with them in hand and had no idea what to paint.

It was then that Madman came to his side.

"Darkness sent me to help you."

"Why?"

"This painting is too complicated. Let me do it."

As he spoke, Madman snatched the pigments from his hands and began painting...

As the contents of the mural became more detailed, he finally understood. It was actually a history of their race fighting against the flames.

They had been driven from their homes by the flames, shattered and scattered, fleeing in every direction. In the painting, the flames were portrayed as terrifying, while the tragic suffering of their race was deliberately emphasized.

"Were we really