Chapter 237
The Artist tried to summon another illusion, his brush moving frantically across the canvas. But the Tragic Failure, their hands twisted and useless, used their entire body to tackle him, slamming him into the ground with all the force they could muster.
The Artist’s head hit the floor with a sickening crack, but instead of lying still, he snarled, his hollow eyes burning with rage. They were cursed beings, and such a blow could not end them. He thrust his brush upward, stabbing it into the Tragic Failure’s shoulder. The Tragic Failure screamed in pain but did not relent, their twisted hands gripping the Artist’s throat with ironclad determination.
The Artist’s eyes bulged as he struggled for breath. He painted desperately on the floor with his free hand, the colors forming tendrils that wrapped around the Tragic Failure’s limbs, trying to pull them off. The Tragic Failure, however, was driven by a lifetime of despair and unfulfilled dreams. They summoned every ounce of their willpower, their body shaking with the effort.
The tendrils tightened, squeezing the life out of the Tragic Failure, but they refused to let go. They headbutted the Artist, their foreheads cracking together. The Artist’s concentration faltered, and the tendrils loosened their grip.
With one final, desperate effort, the Tragic Failure twisted, using the weight of their body to snap the Artist’s neck. The Artist’s eyes widened in shock, his body convulsing before going limp. But even this was not enough to kill a cursed being. The Artist’s body began to twitch, slowly mending itself. His paint brush can be seen drawing in the air the exact same thing happening right now.
Realizing he needed to act quickly, the Tragic Failure summoned the last of his strength, channeling his despair into a haunting, ghostly form. This spectral presence emerged from their body, enveloping the Artist. The spectral figure, embodying the weight of the Tragic Failure’s lost dreams, began to drain the Artist’s life force.
The Artist screamed as the spectral figure tightened its grip, drawing out his arrogance and cruelty. His body convulsed violently, the life force being torn from him. With a final, guttural scream, the Artist’s body went limp, the spectral figure dissipating as the Tragic Failure collapsed beside him.
The curse Inside of talent left his fallen form as it went into failure who immediately began undergoing transformation. The once frail and shaky figure now stands taller, with an aura of newfound confidence and vigor. His twisted fingers straighten out, becoming elegant and dexterous. The cloudiness in his eyes clears, revealing a sharp, intense gaze filled with a blend of sorrow and newfound purpose.
His physique, while healthier and more robust, still shows signs of the frailty they once endured, making them appear both formidable and tragically beautiful.