Some time later, Eller released the first installment of the Kamen Rider series, "Kamen Rider Kuuga." The sales were decent, but the reader comments were a bit strange.
"Mom Doesn't Have To Be Older Than Me: Why did the background and characters change to the Far East? Is the author challenging something I can't understand?"
"Shock My Dad For A Whole Year: This Kuuga is great, the protagonist's will is very firm, encouraging the author to challenge himself."
"Star Call: +1, hope for an early live-action adaptation."
"Leader of the Heavenly Guardians: To be honest, the Turtle Grongi is a true man."
"Commander of Deceit: To be honest, the Porcupine is not human."
Overall, the reader feedback was good, and the social platform rating remained around nine points. This sight greatly motivated Eller, who prepared to accelerate the release of Agito.
He must engrave the image of Kamen Rider deeply into the hearts of humanity in this World!
Harboring this ideal, Eller diligently worked on his creation.
To make Kamen Rider more popular, Eller also decided to modify some controversial plots, striving to make every senior appear in their coolest form.
After Eller's initial awakening of Genesis Power, he could feel that the border Universe lacked concepts related to Kamen Rider. Although he could still summon seniors using a teleportation device, they might not be able to exert their theoretically strongest power.
To put it simply, the seniors couldn't have a spiritual burst, and what Eller needed to do was to spread the concept of Kamen Rider in this World, increasing public awareness. When there was an opportunity to call seniors for a group fight, they would be able to fight in their strongest state.
After completing the first part of Agito, Eller suddenly felt a sense of unease.
"Strange? Why do I have a bad feeling? Is someone secretly cursing me?"
In confusion, Eller removed his hands from the keyboard and then went downstairs to find Wanda.
To ensure her paintings could participate in the exhibition and gain more recognition, Wanda was working overtime to finish them.
Looking at Wanda, whose face was smudged with paint from her busy work, Eller smiled with relief. He quietly stood behind Wanda until she made the final stroke on her painting.
Wanda belonged to the landscape realist school. Thanks to teleportation magic, she could travel to various parts of the World at any time for inspiration.
This work originated from Wanda's hometown, Sokovia, depicting a dilapidated ancient castle covered in White snow.
Eller recognized that place; it was the Strucker family castle in the painting. The reason this castle was dilapidated was thanks to him, Eller.
"Wanda, you're making more and more progress," Eller praised.
"I'm just putting the ideas in my head onto the canvas, and I want more people to see my work."
Wanda had a happy smile on her face. She looked at the painting she had completed with her own hands, and a sense of accomplishment welled up within her. Her heart quickened slightly, and she sincerely said:
"I feel like I've found my dream."
Eller reached out and wiped the paint from Wanda's face, then encouraged her, "Then spread your wings and fly towards your dream."
"Then participating in this art exhibition will be the first feather on my wings," Wanda said to Eller with a smile. At this moment, she remembered something.
"Oh, right, Eller, according to the person from Kavaja Gallery, we still need to visit the exhibition hall today and meet the other participating artists."
"Then I'll drive. You go put the painting away first, then meet me in the garage later," Eller told Wanda, and then went to the garage.
Some time later, Eller took Wanda to the Kavaja Gallery.
The winter sunlight streamed through the windows onto the gallery's wooden floor, casting patches of light. The air was filled with a faint scent of wood mixed with paint.
Unique paintings hung on the walls, from classical architecture to abstract art, each reflecting the artists' unique pursuits.
Although Eller didn't understand painting and couldn't discern the techniques used in the paintings, he could feel the residual spirit in them, thus sensing the emotions the artists poured into their works while painting.
Besides Eller and Wanda, and Elisa, the person in charge of Kavaja Gallery, there were also several young artists present.
But one person stood out among the young artists: his dark skin made him look more suited for street rap, and his age, at least forty, made him very out of place among the young people who were mostly in their twenties.
"You're here too, Wanda," Elisa introduced Wanda to the others and also told Wanda the names of the other people.
After Elisa's introduction, Eller finally learned the name of the middle-aged Black man, 'Pascal Arta.' He had never heard this name, at least not among the modern artists he knew.
Mr. Arta appeared very humble when meeting others, always wearing a gentle smile and dressed very formally.
"Tch, just an outdated old man. At his age, he's still on the same stage as us young people, with no progress in his technique whatsoever."
The speaker was a young artist with a lip piercing and hair dyed five colors. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking like a slacker, clearly the type who liked to be unconventional. He spoke very softly, theoretically only audible to himself.
But what the young artist didn't know was that there were several superhumans present.
Eller naturally heard what he said. Out of curiosity, he approached the young artist and inquired about Mr. Arta's background.
"Do you know Pascal Arta's background?"
The young artist hesitated for a moment, then recognized Eller's identity, "You're that popular writer lately? Do you even care about an outdated old man like him?"
"Tell me about it. If I'm pleased, I might even consider buying your work," Eller said in a very tempting tone.
"He, well, he was quite famous ten years ago. Later, in pursuit of inspiration, he drank heavily and eventually collapsed in the snow, forcing the amputation of his dominant right hand. Recently, with the support of his relatives, he underwent limb regeneration through Osborn Group, which allowed him to pick up a paintbrush again, but his technique... he's an old man from ten years ago, after all. I heard all this from my mentor," the young artist spoke volubly under the temptation of profit.
After listening to the young artist, Eller finally understood why he didn't recognize him.
More than ten years ago... Eller was still fighting for food in the orphanage.
At this moment, Eller looked at the Black artist again. In his eyes, the negative emotions on the Black artist were so dense they were like Black smoke.
Suppression, anxiety, hatred, killing intent... more than ten years of accumulated negative emotions lingered around Pascal Arta.
This firm killing intent? No, has this Black man killed someone?!
Eller, who had already killed many evil enemies, sensed that the killing intent on Arta was not right. Killing intent generated purely from verbal aggression was like cotton, but the killing intent of a true murderer was as firm as rock.
-----------------------
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