kamikazepotato
patreon
The Skill Thief's Canvas - Chapter 78 (Book 3 Chapter 17)
🕑 Added 2025-05-20 23:57:27 +0000 UTC'Valente! Valente, hold on! Don't let Aspreay poison your thoughts with doubt!'
Ciro grit his teeth as he sent the message. He couldn't move to help his Hangman. While he was immune to Nayt and the wench's attacks, nothing good would come out of giving her a chance to unleash her Genius Realm upon him.
"Come as you may," the Emperor declared to them. "You cannot harm me. Even that precious miracle Realm of yours takes too long to construct – I would kill you far before you finished it."
The elf woman gave him no verbal response.
'Genius Realm when I see an opening,' Solara thought. She'd been repeating that mantra throughout the entire battle, with frightening focus. 'Genius Realm when I see an opening. Genius Realm when I see–'
'Why can't she silence herself?' the Emperor thought angrily. 'I have to focus! Does Valente need my help? Is he dealing with the Dark Lord's assault on his mind?'
Ciro had narrowed down his Divine Knowledge to only those whose Talents were ranked at Baron or higher. Despite that, it wasn't enough to obtain the silence he needed to concentrate.
It wasn't even close to enough.
Aspreay's Realm had unleashed a maelstrom of thoughts that took over both battlefields, all reverberating through the Emperor's mind with explosive urgency.
'Goddamn it Aspreay, can you fucking CHILL?' Adam thought.
'First the mongrel's mind, then his soul, then his bones,' Aspreay thought.
'Genius Realm when I see the opening. Genius. Realm. When.'
'That Devil cannot make the Hero of Prophecy cannot kill innocents!' Valente thought.
'Oh no, he still believes that prophecy I invented,' Ciro thought.
'Should I use the Tesouro yet?' Nayt thought. 'No...I'm not worthy, and I don't need the Orbs.'
'Genius Realm when I see an opening. Genius Realm when I see–'
Ciro drew a deep breath and screamed to invoke a semblance of quiet in his heart.
'Aspreay...sink not to the depths of hell for my sake,' Vasco thought.
'Dragons of Old, thank you for not ever having me fight Aspreay,' Gaspar thought, a nervous laugh forming inside his head.
'I am not interested in joining this fight, I'm just a detective,' thought some other woman.
WHO EVEN WAS THAT ONE?
'Hello Nuncle,' Tenver greeted him in his thoughts. 'I just killed Valente.'
Ciro snapped his eyes closed.
Until now, he hadn't been able to use his Divine Knowledge on Tenver. His nephew was disguised by the presence of nearby civilians while he sniped at Valente.
Ciro hadn't expected the Puppet Prince to willingly move into Divine Knowledge's range. Tenver screamed inside his thoughts, trying to grab the Emperor's attention...
As the shock of it all dulled his decisions for just a moment.
Was Tenver's claim true? Could they truly have killed Valente without him realizing it?
It didn't make sense. Ciro shouldn't have allowed himself even one second to consider the possibility. Setting aside the man's sheer power, Valente's Talent of Distance rendered him virtually untouchable! No amount of sneak attacks or dirty tricks could have slain him!
Yet...
Yet everything added up.
The Painter's clever tricks in both today and the Siege of Penumbria.
The Dark Lord's heinous Orders.
The Puppet Prince's surprise thought.
The overwhelming influx of information entering his mind with Divine Knowledge.
And most of all, the safety of his own Gravity Shield.
Those all combined into just enough hesitation for the Emperor to allow himself a most treacherous thought: 'One second to check on Valente with Divine Knowledge won't be of consequence.'
But in that singular second–
"GENIUS REALM – PALACE OF ETERNAL LIFE!"
–The unrelenting, undying Heiress of Gama found the opening she'd been seeking.
'DAMNED ELF!'
The thought came to him too late. Ciro's outstretched hand managed to crush her to death...but not quickly enough. Just as he'd learned from her Realm's first victim, Solara needn't be alive for it to finish. He would've had to stop the Construction before it began.
And now, as the white sphere enveloped him, it was too late.
'–LET THIS WORLD BEGIN!' proclaimed an ethereal voice.
--
The Emperor of the World was trapped.
And furious.
Quite fortunately, though, time didn't pass inside the Palace of Eternal life. He allowed himself the luxury of unleashing a visceral scream – then unleashing his gravitational might upon the white void surrounding him.
Only for nothing to happen. There was no evidence that he'd done anything at all. Somehow, that soothed his fury as he stopped to contemplate just where he was.
"Outside the elf's Realm, using Gravity to this degree would have been enough to alter the tides of the ocean," Ciro observed. "Yet in this world that there never was, in this world yet to be...there is not even enough matter to suffer the consequences of my wrath. Interesting."
It occurred to him then that he was truly blessed by providence, which was only natural. Ciro had been chosen by the Dragons of Old to save the world from the Rot, and from the First and Second Painters – why else would fortune have favored him so?
The Palace of Eternal Life was perhaps the most terrifying Genius Realm in existence. Even the Emperor of the World would have felt concern at this unreasonable, absurd attack...
Had he been its first victim.
But his Hangwoman, Ernanda the Lady of Ash, fell to it first – and was driven mad for it. She could not and would not speak to anyone. Not of her duel with the elf, and not of anything at all.
However, a combination of Divine Knowledge and Royal Orders had let Ciro pry the necessary information from the cracks of her fractured mind.
"This Genius Realm creates a whole universe," he mused. "It shall persist until the universe's natural death. An infinitely long amount of time will pass here...yet little time will have passed outside. Most intriguing."
Which meant that no harm would come to his world, regardless of what he chose to do here.
"I appreciate the novelty," Ciro said aloud. "I've had to keep my Walls up at all times to keep the Rot from attacking my Empire."
As if conducting an orchestra, he raised a single hand outward and upward. "REALM–RECONSTRUCTION!"
Pure bliss.
Ciro had nearly forgotten the sheer exhilaration that came from imposing his reality upon the world.
Under normal circumstances, overstaining one's Canvas would be worse than killing them – it would corrupt their soul into an unusable, shattered version of itself, so broken that even the wretched Puppets couldn't make use of it. It stood to reason, then, that the Palace of Eternal Life would heal his Canvas just as it did for physical injuries.
His assumptions were correct.
Here he could push beyond his limits, extending his Realm far beyond what even his formidable capabilities allowed.
The air cracked. Five unseen Walls slammed into place, around him, above him – and then, like the mythical gunshots from the World of Ink, burst outward.
His Realm expanded violently, explosively, reaching far wider than the one he'd used to cover the breadth of his Empire.
This Realm didn't need refinement, carefully-crafted Laws, or logical reasoning put into its creation. It was a tool of savagery meant to crash against the outer limits of Solara's Genius Realm.
Yet try as he might, he never reached those limits.
"Fascinating," he noted, with an air of amusement. "Ernanda's information appears to be outdated. She was trapped in a very small universe. This one seems much larger...expanding, even. No matter how far my Realm extends, I'll never be able to reach the Palace's borders in time."
How had the elf improved her Genius Realm in such a short amount of time? Was it merely from increasing her Rank? If so, then I need to kill her – permanently – as soon as I am able. She could become quite troublesome if her Talent reaches the Rank of Duke or higher.
Until this moment, he had only considered Adam and Tenver to be worthy threats. Now he would likely have to append that thought to include the Undying elf as well.
Once he got out of here, at any rate.
"It's a shame that not enough time has passed outside of this world," Ciro mused. "I would have liked to give you hope, Painter. Your side must have believed that victory was assured the instant she caught me in her Realm."
He shook his head. "Alas, you will barely have to feel the joy of relief before I rob it from you."
The Emperor of the World had already formulated a plan to counteract the Palace of Eternal Life. In fact, he'd done so long before today – and why wouldn't he? The Palace was a bizarre Genius Realm that bypassed the usual protections afforded to someone with a 1st-Rank ability. Worse, the elf's crude curse could even bypass his Gravity Shield!
If he hadn't thought of a way to counter it, then he would never have set foot on this battlefield at all. This world needed him alive and sane...such risks would simply not do. Even a costlier war would've been a better alternative than putting his life in danger.
"You see, Painter," Ciro muttered, as though Adam could hear him, "I learned something from Ernanda's husk. This Realm's nascent universe will continue until its natural death."
The Emperor of the World put his hands together, crackles of electricity flickering in the air. "AND EVEN NATURE ITSELF SERVES ME!"
He gazed upward, a gleeful smirk overcoming him as a feeling of ecstasy filled his soul. How long has it been...since I felt challenged?
"REALM–RECONSTRUCTION!"
His mighty Realm, larger than an Empire, larger than an entire world, dissipated into nothingness. It collapsed into a much smaller, more compact box, barely wide enough to fit his own body. There, he allowed himself only one comfort.
"Make me a throne."
And on that regal furniture willed into existence, he sat down and drew a deep breath. The next part, he knew, would take a long time.
It would take no time at all.
It would take longer than anything else he had ever done.
It hadn't even started yet.
It had also already finished.
Time, Ciro thought, is nature's only master. It is a merciless reaper that respects neither power nor godliness. Everything lives, and everything dies.
"LORD REALM OF MINE! Maintain gravity inside of this Palace!"
Ciro's Law utilized everything at his disposal to make itself absolute. It used his expanded capacity in an undying world where his Canvas could not stain itself, its miniature size, and the limited scope of his Royal Order. All of that was necessary to combat the only other thing in the world that could rival it–
His other Talent.
"GENIUS REALM – COLLAPSING STAR!"
A man like the Emperor did not stain his Canvas with pigment, but with absence. Every remnant of white in the void within his soul was an oddity; a worker refusing to pay his master the respect he deserved.
His Genius Realm didn't just call upon gravity. It ruled over it, much like any other commoner.
'You must never use that Talent, brother. It's more than dangerous – it's an ending.'
'Of your title as Emperor? Come now, can't you show pride at your brother's brilliance for once in your damned life? I came to share the good news of my Genius Realm, not to be greeted with jealousy masked as concern. Be more proud of me, brother! Very few can create the Realm of a Genius!'
'Ciro...forget your pride. Forget our Empire, even. The world – the universe cannot handle the extent of that ability. It should not exist! if I didn't love you, I'd have you killed for the sake of our people!'
'You truly think it that powerful? Thank you, brother. Flattery is rare coming from you.'
'It's not flattery, it's the truth! Without a Lord Realm to impede it, the entire universe–'
'Without a Lord Realm, eh? Mayhaps I ought to remedy that someday.'
'What do you–'
Ciro wondered why that childhood memory flashed in his mind then.
He sank into the moment like a man folding into the ocean. A dream, a coma, a velvet-wrapped oblivion that surrounded everything but himself. His power, truly unchained for the first and only time in his life, attacked the very rationality of the universe he was trapped in.
The Emperor stabbed the world's gravity, changed it, made it more fragile.
I have studied much from the World of Ink, but not enough to know what this Genius Realm considers to be the 'end' of the universe. Is it the death of heat, the act known as entropy? Or is it merely the passage of an infinitely large amount of time?
Well...I suppose I'll find out.
Ciro couldn't make time pass faster for himself, but he could do so for everything else. With his Talent of a Lord, with his Talent of an Emperor, he shielded himself from a calamity of his own making, creating a universe within a universe.
And with his Talent of Gravity, he took aim at the gravity of the Genius Realm – made it infinitely, absurdly negative, exponentially accelerating the passage of time.
The elf wanted him trapped until the universe itself died?
Fine.
Then her universe would die quickly.
Faster, Ciro ordered.
Centuries passed in the blink of an eye. Life arose, evolved, warred, died, arose again, evolved again. Civilizations formed, crumbled, turned to legend. All was new, all was old, and what was old became new once more.
EVEN FASTER!
Gravity was his slave, but even the most loyal of servants could not perform beyond what their abilities allowed. Shifting gravity had its limit – he could only change the universe's time so much.
He needed more.
He needed to reach further.
That was when it occurred to him.
I have no limits in this universe, Ciro thought. He was startled to notice that the realization wasn't entirely a happy one. Because my Canvas heals indefinitely...I never have to stop. It was too dangerous to take my Talent to its limits in the Painted World, but here...
Here, I can keep going. Further than even my feet could take me.
Further even than the First Painter could.
Ciro called up on his Genius Realm again – again – again – an exhilarating, intoxicating feeling more beautiful and alluring than any wine or woman ever could be.
Oh, how this sensation, this ecstasy sang to him!
For a moment, he nearly forgot his dream. He nearly forgot his mission to slay the Painters and reign over the world as its first native, human ruler.
It all seemed so unimportant compared to the elation he felt – to the power he wielded.
Ciro outstretched his hand and grasped at matters outside his own barrier, outside his own concept of time. He could feel the energy in his hand – no! In that royal grip of his, the Emperor of the World beheld the universe, seizing energy itself. Even the absence of energy bent its knee to him.
This feeling of letting loose and feeling all of my power–! So precious...so sweet...so intoxicating...give me more...more...make it last forever...!
One moment he became one with the universe.
The next he rose above it, ruling over it as he should.
MY REALM IS HEALED AFTER EVERY USE! I CAN CALL UPON MY GRAVITY AS MUCH AS I WANT! Manic joy electrified his veins. GIVE ME MORE! THIS WORLD CAN TAKE EVERYTHING I HAVE TO OFFER!
More civilizations rose and fell. Suns emerged from nothing, turned red, and exploded, their stardust reaching the outer limits of his Emperor's Realm.
Every blink would show him giants, monsters, and animals he'd never seen before. After just another blink, even their bones had long since left this reality.
I CAN FEEL IT! I CAN SENSE IT! Ciro laughed unreservedly, undignified. THE DARK ENERGY THAT CONTROLS THE EXPANSION OF THE UNIVERSE! I CAN CURVE THE SPACE AROUND IT – DIRECT IT – COLLAPSE MORE OF THIS VOID INTO ITSELF!
How naive he had been to think his powers were limited to speeding the universe's natural demise.
He was Ciro, Emperor of the World, Emperor of the UNIVERSE.
He would not wait even for time itself.
That accursed reaper which even nature could not defeat – he would best it now. Ciro would murder this universe, CRUNCH IT with the absence of everything, with the collapsing of space, with HIS MIGHT.
"HARK, UNIVERSE!" Ciro shouted into the whirling void. Oh, that euphoric feeling sang to him so, so very sweetly. None could hear him, and he cared not. Did God need an audience? Nay, he spoke, awaiting for his voice to birth one that could listen to Him.
Today he was that God. And the universe that was, that had been, that there was yet to be, would hear his proclamation.
He stepped forward, his Realm and throne expanding into a veritable palace.
"Too late and too often do those subjects of the Architects regret kneeling to their fate."
Ciro walked forth, gesturing as though proclaiming royal orders, the empty, ethereal hall filled with kneeling suits of armor.
"In this fists of mine lies the humane power of godslaying."
He paused before a misshapen suit of armor kneeling in his direction – a veritable giant, over ten feet tall – and crushed it with his might.
"The Painted World hails its true Ruler – CIRO OF THE ONE EMPIRE!"
More kneeling suits of armor crumbled to dust.
"The Ruler of Time, the Savior of All, the Slayer of Gods! I AM HE–"
Even his palace burned out like a star.
"–AND I AM WITHOUT EQUAL!"
Let the world end, said that hallowed voice.
--
All too suddenly, Ciro was banished from an alluring world and returned to his former one.
I wish not to open my eyes yet, he thought. If I keep them closed, I can pretend I'm still there – in that wonderful reality where there is no reason to fear mine own strength. Where no obligations rest upon my shoulders.
Gone was the exhilarating, beautiful void of a moment ago.
Back was the heavy, dreadful sensation of duty.
Despite his defeat of the reaper known as time, his sworn enemy had still left him a parting gift – an unavoidable return to these cursed lands.
Ciro found himself in the Painted World once more. The place he was sworn to rule over. The place he was sworn to protect.
Oh, yes...protecting. I should keep this universe from shattering as it welcomes me back.
"REALM–RECONSTRUCTION!"
Before he could grieve the beautiful illusion of life he'd just experienced, before he even allowed himself to open his eyes and gaze upon his glorious Empire once more, Ciro called upon his Lord Talent one more time. There was not a single moment to waste.
How long was I inside that elf's universe? the Emperor thought in a hurry. Most likely just a few seconds, but during those brief moments, my Empire was left without any protection from the Rot.
More pressingly, however, he was concerned with what the tail end of his attack may have done. How–
"On your feet, Ciro," said a familiar, lazy growl. "Don't feel like waiting for you to read my mind to catch up, so let's skip that part."
The Emperor of the World snapped his eyes open. He found a ruined village welcoming him back – along with an old friend's bittersweet salute.
"Solara's Genius Realm kept you trapped for about twelve seconds on our side," Nayt continued. "Aspreay's Realm prevented your attack from spreading past the village. No idea what the Rot did to the world at large in that time. The village is destroyed, as is Aspreay's Realm, and everyone except the two of us are missing."
The surrounding area showed what might become of the Painted World if Ciro's wrath ever became manifest.
Streets curled backward, roofs imploded into dust, and the sky was littered with fragments of earth that floated as if in a dream. Some of those floating strips of land pointed upwards, like spears attacking the heavens themselves. Others were turned upside down, exposing hollow stakes like a man's ribs.
Yet amid the devastation lay a single path – narrow and unmarred, as if drawn by divine hand.
"Fate beckons us, old friend," said Ciro. It carved through the wreckage and unnatural land with a divine authority, leading from the Emperor to the only other man who appeared to still exist.
"Beckon it does," said Nayt the Hangman. He stood, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. "And answer we shall."
Ciro nodded. "Yet that answer needs not be written in your blood. Cease this folly and bask in the aftermath of my greatness, Nayt."
The Emperor flicked his hand at the wrongness of the floating earth – at the ghastly destruction his Talent had wrought. "My strength is beyond your kind's comprehension."
Silence sang a sweet melody.
"You speak the truth, Emperor."
"Truly?" Ciro said quickly. "You truly understand me, after all this time?"
Nayt drew his sword. "The answer needs not be in my blood," he plainly stated. "Draw your weapon, Emperor, and consider this my resignation."
Ciro's face relaxed into a joyous laugh. This was no new challenge. Many times had the duelist risen from the ashes of his defeat and faced him exactly like this. If anything, the sight made him feel glad to have returned to this accursed world.
It was then that he noticed an oddity. "Nayt, my dear, I was gone for twelve seconds you say? And the battlefield changed in that time?"
"Aye. Ask me not what happened to everyone else – I do not know."
I should care more. I should worry that this is a trap. Where is Adam? Where is Aspreay? The elf? My nephew? VALENTE? It's too quiet - my Genius Realm could have killed the rebels, but not my Dark Captain! Why are they gone?
Why...
Does that...not...concern me?
Mayhaps the euphoria I felt haunts me still. That pure bliss of being allowed to unleash my Talent in all its glory.
I...I am not myself.
"Burn the Painter!" Ciro shouted. "Nayt – you used the elves' treasure to protect yourself from the aftereffects of my Genius Realm, did you not?"
Wind blew.
"I wished not to," Nayt muttered. He sounded ashamed. "But when we felt that ominous presence crackling from inside Solara's Genius Realm, I feared for my life. A coward's wish. I thought I couldn't die before killing you – made a thousand excuses – and chose the easy path yet again."
He sighed. "But there will be time for regrets later. There will be time for many things once you have fallen, Ciro."
Though the Emperor had only been gone from this world for twelve seconds, that had been enough time for its very balance to have shifted. When he left, only three beings possessed a Talent of the legendary 1st Rank of Emperor. Ciro himself, the Grandmaster of Puppets, and Valente.
Now there was a fourth.
Nayt, the Hangman.
"I cannot believe it..." The Emperor whistled softly. "You really did it. Just like you promised me."
His Divine Knowledge flared up. For the first time in Ciro's life, he saw the exact same memory play out both in his mind and in another's – a shared remembrance of a time long past.
A broken, bleeding elf stood before the imperial throne, glaring at the Emperor.
"I'll do it," Nayt had said back then. "No matter what. I'll reach that untouchable world you live in and kill you!"
"Many have promised me that before," CIro had replied. "Yet here I stand, alone at the top as I have always been, and always will be."
"I'll rid you of your loneliness one day," Nayt promised. "It will be the day of your death."
"Yes!" Ciro exclaimed. Euphoric joy returning to him once more...no, this was beyond that pale imitation. Nayt had always been his favorite entertainment, but this?
Oh, this was far better than even what the Palace had shown him.
"The world is ours now, Nayt! Forget the Painter, the Rot – let's have fun, old friend!"
Nayt unsheathed his sword. "I shall," he said, as he started to approach.
"Do you think yourself my match," Ciro taunted, walking towards the elf, "simply because our Ranks are now equal?"
Both men were set to collide soon. Neither could turn away.
"Your Canvas is Stained," Nayt remarked, without slowing down. "Two Reconstructions of the Lord kind, and one of the Genius kind...not to mention how it must have felt like hours if not days inside Solara's Realm."
"I'll admit it!" Ciro laughed. He continued his march toward his opponent – toward his Hangman. "Those have weakened me, yes. What of it?"
"You also haven't had the chance to craft your Realm Laws again," Nayt pointed out. "Your Talent of Gravity won't be of much use here. That's how I'll kill you today. How I'll forge the legend of the swordsman who slew an Emperor."
"Be that as it may." The two were within striking distance now. "No mere legend can kill me."
"There will be nothing mere about my legend."
Ciro's mouth split into a manic grin. "Then show me thy best, O Blade of Greenisle!"
So began the first duel between individuals with 1st-Rank Talents in over a hundred years.
--
Thanks for reading!
