SSS Demon King System: The Rise of a Dying Extra-Chapter 47: Artis Pugna.

Mikaelo had always had an incredible talent for painting.

But that wasn’t what stood out about him; his gift and curse did.

The magical power he was born with.

It was a terrifying power: the ability to bring his paintings to life.

Magical power imbues the ink of his work and makes the elements come out of the painting.

And, as is obvious, each painting he creates is totally at his mercy.

Their behavior, voice, memories, etc., will be the same as what Mikaelo believes the people he painted have.

And it’s not the only thing it imitates; those copies even retain part of the original powers they had.

However, blurring the veil between reality and fiction to bring crystallized fantasies to life is not the only thing he can do.

Something more terrifying than manifesting his imagination is the ability to trap reality in his paintings.

Literally.

"Well, this is your end, little butler, don’t be so confident next time," Mikaelo smiled.

He moved the brush quickly, drawing with oils an army of soldiers around Sebastian.

It would be simple for him to kill him, he just had to break the canvas; however, that wouldn’t be true art.

Mikaelo was always feared for his ability, which meant no one really enjoyed his paintings.

However, that wouldn’t change his artist’s conviction, so he always worked artistically.

The soldiers began to move within the painting, they had come to life.

The army charged toward the butler, who had unsheathed his sword.

It was difficult to describe what one feels when transported to another expression of reality.

Sebastian felt as if he were on a white background, which was suddenly filled by beings made of paint.

Mikaelo didn’t employ a realistic style, his brushstrokes and lines were appreciable in the drawing he made.

However, with just a glance, one was able to interpret what was being drawn. That it was simplified didn’t make it simple.

"Let the show begin!"

Mikaelo touched a small box-shaped artifact that was beside the stool; upon pressing a button, music began to play.

The combat had begun.

The army reached Sebastian, who was surrounded, however, that couldn’t even be considered a challenge for him.

Limbs flew. The butler began to fight, his attacks seemed like a dance.

It was a deadly dance, fluid and calculated movements; he crossed the battlefield decapitating and mutilating with his sword, with a naturalness that seemed rehearsed.

And all that, to the rhythm of the music.

Blood flew, accompanying the butler in his deadly dance, as if red were the main element of the work.

Mikaelo gritted his teeth. It was exciting!

"Art! That’s how art should be!"

A wave of inspiration hit the painter, who took his brushes and began to paint.

Quick wrist movements were executed, they were fluid, precise, without any error.

Worthy of someone with years of experience, but with the energy of someone who is excited.

At the top of the painting a man manifested, of colossal proportions, wearing a white tunic that allowed showing his body.

Muscles that seemed sculpted tensed, his arm rose and in it a lightning bolt manifested.

The dancing electricity seemed to shine, as if it came out of the painting.

And then, it descended; trumpets, flutes, violins, among other instruments, vibrated.

It was the most intense moment of the music.

A frenzy that accompanied the moment when the lightning descended, as if divine punishment fell upon Sebastian.

But there was no fear reflected in his eyes, his features remained calm, he was also excited.

It reminded him of the good times, when he massacred other demons with his old master.

A roar was heard from the orchestra, just at the moment the lightning and sword collided.

The painting filled with color, vivid and hot colors clashed with the ominous mass of purple and blue colors that the incubus gave off.

And then, silence.

The music calmed down, while the painting showed its content again; Mikaelo saw it: there was Sebastian, on a pile of corpses of knights he himself had drawn.

And in the background, the lifeless body of what should have been the representation of a god.

"This isn’t over!"

Trumpets sounded.

Mikaelo began to draw with charcoal.

Straighter and thicker strokes came together. A rain of spiders fell on the old warrior.

The music intensified while Sebastian simply cut each being with great delicacy and precision.

"Impossible! No, I haven’t given my all yet."

The man took the wax paints, and now, tried to reach Sebastian, as if seeking to touch him with color.

Frantic strokes filled the painting, it had become a chaotic jumble of lines.

But the old man dodged each stroke with elegance, that wouldn’t stop him.

Piccolos began to sound in crescendo.

There was no more space to escape, until Sebastian created it.

Using Belphegor’s style, he cut through the strokes, thus having space to move through the painting.

After all:

His sword was his own brush.

And his art, the death it brought with it.

Creation against destruction. Who is destined to win?

"I WON’T LOSE!"

With fury and emotion, Mikaelo suddenly stood up, and with a thicker brush full of paint, struck the canvas forming a stain.

The man was drenched in sweat, his cheeks flushed from the effort.

Sebastian was forcing him to exceed his limits.

The stain began to move, forming a spiral.

Soon, the spiral would grow, as if an inevitable chaos extended consuming the entire painting.

But punctures appeared, the man stabbed the painting with the brush as if it were a knife.

Each spiral ended up colliding with each other forming a tidal wave of paint.

Sebastian was hit by that turbulent ocean of colors.

A strong current of paint pushed him, but the serenity didn’t disappear from his face.

His blade lay perfectly straight, perpendicular to him; and then, the blade vibrated.

The spiral wasn’t the only thing that was cut; the canvas itself broke.

"I-impossible..." the artist finally muttered, while falling backward.

It was then that he realized.

Hot blood ran down his clothes.

He had been wounded... Sebastian managed to attack him even from inside the painting.

Sebastian had materialized the unimaginable.

Tracing a wound on his body.

In this duel of artists, Sebastian had won the battle.