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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Determination7 on 2024-10-30 01:02:32+00:00.

What a beautiful waste, Adam thought of Eric’s Canvas.

He was hiding in the ruined battlefield when Solara’s Ghost of Flames caught up to him. The new information that the specter returned with was of vital importance, yet even it had to wait for now. There was a different fire that he needed to put out first.

The fire Eric had spawned when unleashing his Hangman Talent.

They were located at an elevated part of Santuario das Chamas. It was high up enough for air to feel thinner, and close enough to the top of the mountain for the dread of the Ancient Dragons to feel most ominous.

Before their duel began, these sacred ruins had already been mere remnants of a once-grand city. Buildings fit for Dragons used to stand tall and proud. Now even those broken stone houses were lit aflame, hardened rock burning as if it was a matchstick covered in gasoline.

Adam had escaped being consumed by the inferno – barely. It was a temporary reprieve. Either the flames would spread and catch him, or Eric’s indiscriminate firebombing would.

Have to focus. Can’t let him know where I’m hiding. Painting his soul is my best option…maybe my only option.

The one other plan he’d devised was to wait until Eric exhausted himself. But with how the Hangman was furiously rampaging around, that didn’t seem to be a reliable course of action. His flames would engulf the entire city long before then.

No. Painting him was a much, much better option – provided that Adam could.

I have to figure out what I’m missing.

What was it that he didn’t understand about Eric?

The two of them knew each other extremely well. Better than most people, certainly. Yet if Adam’s previous paintings had failed, there had to be something he was missing.

Worst of all, he couldn’t even talk to him. Adam was so much weaker than the Hangman that the moment he tried to ask any sort of deep, piercing question…he would die*.* It wasn’t like Eric had the best of tempers to begin with, and near-unlimited power had done little to curb that habit of his.

“WHERE ARE YOU, ADAM?!” Eric shouted. His voice sounded maniacal, deranged, close to inhuman. “C’MON! QUIT BEING A FUCKING COWARD! YOU WANT ME DEAD, DON’T YOU? YOU THINK I’M A BASTARD WHO STOLE YOUR SHIT, DOOON’T YOOOU?!”

The battlefield had become a ruin within a ruin. Eric had destroyed much of the already-broken stone houses with his Talent, as well as killing most of the honor guard Adam brought along, with the few survivors writhing in pain and despairing over missing limbs.

Have to stay hidden until I come up with a plan. It was the best course of action. He knew that. He and Eric had engaged in a Realm Clash earlier that shattered both their Realms and stained their Canvases – neither man would be able to use Realm Laws to achieve an easy, automatic victory.

And without the backing of a Realm…Adam needed to think very carefully about how to fight someone with an absurd Talent like Eric.

Although knowing might be the easy part. Actually doing it is a different story.

“COME ON, ADAM!” The Hangman kicked the wall of a ruined house, sending its foundation tumbling sideways. “Why are you running away now? Weren’t you prancing around and agonizing over how you couldn’t trust me? Whining about how you didn’t want to believe I stole your shit?”

His former best friend laughed and bellowed out, “I FUCKING DID! I STOLE YOUR PAINTING BACK THEN – JUST LIKE NOW!”

Why?

Despite his intense focus, Adam couldn’t help but flash back to the many years the two spent together. Was all of it an act? If so, for what purpose? Why would you–

LISTEN TO ME! The Ghost of Flames suddenly shouted in his mind. IF YOU DIE, THEN I WILL DIE TOO, SO LISTEN WELL, HUMAN!

Adam and Solara couldn’t communicate freely, distant as they were, but the Ghost of Flames served as an unwilling – if limited – communication method that was faster than even the Grandmaster’s crows.

It was Solara who’d come up with the idea. The Painting Talent allowed those bound by ‘tattooed’ paintings to share their magic with one another, but only until the ink on the person’s back vanished.

And since the Ghost of Flames was a package deal with the Talent of Haunting Flames, why not take advantage of that? Once Solara finished her battle, she could simply scrub away the ink and her Talent would revert to Adam – carrying with it a most unhappy messenger.

As for the Ghost’s obedience…the Elf and Painter had both agreed on a very simple solution.

Tell me everything now, Adam demanded of the Ghost in his mind. Or else I’ll trap you within a dying soldier and let you disappear forever.

The Ghost of Flames didn’t need to be told twice. Sola…the Elf has won, it stuttered. Penumbria went as you hoped. Aspreay has declared for you. The Emperor’s army has stalled.

Meaning that Eric would be recalled as soon as the Emperor had the chance to order him so. Retreat was no longer an option.

This was the Plagiarist’s last chance to kill Adam.

Stay hidden, the Ghost cautioned. The Hangman’s Canvas grows more stained by the moment. He wastes much of his Blank trying to find you, destroying buildings indiscriminately. Allow him to tire himself out. He’ll weaken.

That was already my plan. I’m not going to run out and risk my life if standing still works fine. I’ll win even if I can’t trap his soul. Just have to think of a new painting, let Eric exhaust himself, wait for his emotions to get the better of–

Eric lifted up the body of a mangled soldier.

“ARE YOU SEEING THIS, ADAM?!” The soldier was so bloody, and so maimed, that at first the Painter thought it to be a corpse. A moment later he recognized the man to be Diego – the young captain of his honor guard. “IF YOU DON’T COME OUT, I’LL KILL HIM!”

A poor bluff, the Ghost grunted. The soldier is near death anyway; he’s missing a leg and bleeding out as we speak. He’ll perish no matter what you do.

Yeah. Adam’s thoughts slowed as he watched Diego cry out in agony. It would be meaningless to get myself killed trying to save a dead man.

Exposed bone poked out from where the young captain’s leg had been, twisted and shattered. I’m weaker and less talented than Eric. When his mind is burning hot, I need to freeze mine cold.

Diego’s tormented screams pierced the sky. Being cruel and calculating is my only chance of winning here. I can’t afford to get emotional.

Adam was aware of all that.

He honestly, truly was. He had long since prepared himself for the sacrifices he would need to make.

“I’m right here.”

Yet when he saw the suffering in the Captain’s eyes…the words were already leaving his mouth. He pushed the rubble off from his hiding spot, standing proudly.

“I’m right here…Eric.” Every word Adam spoke dripped with a fury that melted away the ice of his plans. He silenced the Ghost before it could even object. “Put him down.”

Fire crackled around the two men, their eyes locked in a silent eulogy to their shattered past. Only smoldering shards of their once-precious bond were left now, and all it invoked was motivation to kill the other.

With a careless flick of his wrist, Eric let the Captain’s mangled body slip from his grip. Diego’s unmoving form hit the ground with a sickening thud. The Hangman’s eyes locked onto Adam throughout it all, daring him to react, to break.

“You came here with eleven men,” Eric sneered. “And you still failed to fucking beat me. I’d say all twelve of you would leave here in caskets but…”

He gestured to the carnage around him. “Don’t think you can find all of your men anymore. Ah, well. Maybe their families will settle for pieces? I think I see a leg over there.”

Adam’s fist tightened.

Are you insane? The Ghost desperately barked out. He’ll kill you – kill us! And for what? The man is dead already!

I might be insane, the Painter thought, but I’m not inhuman. Not yet.

“Your Talent of Hanging is of the Fourth Rank,” Adam noted, in a tone dryer than the flame-wreathed air. “And your Talent of Flight…” He gestured at the beautiful featherly wings sprouting from the sides of Eric’s boots. “…Is also quite high ranked. Fifth Rank, I believe?”

Eric nodded. “You always were the type to do your homework.” His nod turned into a shake. “Just one of the many things about you that annoyed the shit out of me.”

“And you never did yours*.*” Adam smiled wryly. “Always preferred to leave it to the end and ask me for the answers.”

“Heh. Then answer me this as well – what’s your highest-Ranked Talent?”

“Third Rank. Two under yours.”

The Hangman nodded again. “And since neither of us can use our Realms, you have no way of bypassing our difference in Rank. Well, no way except Painting, and we both know how much worse you are than me in that regard.”

“Yeah, guess that’s true,” Adam acknowledged with a shrug. “I have no way of killing you outside of somehow managing to paint your soul. My Talents are all weaker than yours, and you can probably kill me within a few seconds. That’s all true – I don’t dispute any of it.”

He took a step forward.

“So I hope you’re ready,” the Painter told the Plagiarist, in a nonchalant voice. "I hope you’re to watch this talentless fuck, the one you stole everything from…take your fucking soul."

In response, Eric also took a step forward.

"Watching you fail is the most entertaining t…

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