Despair's black, death's white, and the boundless white acting as filler.
But, ultimately, the weeping woman appeared to be blood-red and perhaps numbly grey, yet in the next moment, she transformed into an oncoming hatred.
She hated her own death, hated her own doomsday, hated why she wasn't saved, hated why although she was dead, she still couldn't find peace, hated all the living outside, hated the enslavers watching her from beyond the lens...
"This thing, if placed at home, would kill an ordinary person on the same day, while a Decree-level professional wouldn't live past three days."
As a connoisseur observing the overly extreme blacks, greys, whites, and reds on the canvas, a former Evil God spoke thus.
"The cursed items I created back then weren't as bizarre as yours, this is outrageous..."
Looking at the "Curse" before her, Chris was somewhat astonished, somewhat incredulous.
