Curselock: A Cursed LITRPG Adventure

The Harbinger’s emerald halo loomed, its size reaching far beyond that of Leland’s own. It secreted green ink which pooled before the man like frozen raindrops. Each was the size of a fist, yet charred the air as the man walked. A trail followed each drop, like a dredge net dragging against the bottom of the ocean.

An adventurer, a defender, reached out to the Harbinger, only to bisect the emerald trail. Before the adventurer could scream, they fell like a dead log. This prompted the adventurer’s companions to act, each throwing themselves at the Harbinger.

A lazy gesture from the killer pierced all of them through the neck. Each died with green liquid spilling from their wounds, their skin melting under the unguarded effect.

The Harbinger didn’t so much as blink, murder being part of his lexicon like his own name. He continued his walk, his target? The young princess sparkling with the gray glow of royalty.

Swallowing, Leland watched with bated breath. His mind instantly went to Soul Fire, but knew attempting something so blatant was ill conceived. Besides not having any souls to ignite, the enemy was well beyond any enemy Leland had faced so far. He would be cut down before the fire could smolder.

Leland glanced behind, hearing Jude call his name.

Green inky beings grew from a splattering of color that ran across the city street. It clawed its way from the liquid, appearing half-formed from the torso down before a Reflection guard pierced it with a spear. The being died, its green blood bubbling up and out of its mouth like a geyser. The blood then morphed and twisted, creating another being from the ashes.

“Undying Army!” Leland screeched, knowing the stories of old.

It was a tale as old as time, one that was spoken through the millennia due to the actions of the ancient Hero Golt, Champion of Gold, against the Undying Army. Ultimately dying in battle, Golt stalled the army long enough for a war to end in the heavens.

Imprisoned by the Lord of Life and the Lord of Rebirth, the Undying Army forever lives beyond reality in a small inescapable hole. Green rot and an aptitude for staving death, the Lord of the Undying was said to have recreated its own body from little more than a spec of skin, but ultimately finding itself locked away and forever breathing.

Still a powerful Lord, its will is said to be able to escape the prison, thus providing the Undying Army a chance at horrid redemption. Who will lead the charge? The Undying Harbingers, those who follow their master’s call.

Having already realized who the enemy was, the Reflection army sought a course correction action. Instantaneously, their ghostly spears shifted into off-blue smoke, returning from beyond the boundary as chains.

They wore haunted foggy armor, an apparition of what was once metal long before the Void consumed it. Winged decals could be seen in their helmets and pauldrons, echoing the reality that the Reflection army fought in the skies rather than on foot.

Of the several dozen Reflections, each held a length of chain that radiated black energy. Acting nigh as one, the army began to spin their weapons. Magic pulled against the sky, air rushing toward the created cyclone. The green Undying blood began to lift, being yanked by the black chains.

It was then another dozen Reflections sliced through the Void into the material world, each carving into the Undying Army with halberds made of wicked lava. The molten rock ate away at the rot and ruin, turning the emerald beings into nothing more than a volcanic husk. Insides burned and charred, the husks withered away against the backdrop of black vortex chains like dust in a tornado.

“Leals, we need to get out of here!” Jude yelled over the torrent of wind, his battle axe in hand and frost already covering his vulnerable body parts.

Glenny, crimson shield in hand, battered against an Undying Soldier, shoving it away only for a Reflection to blitz down from the sky and kill it.

“We need to leav—” Glenny cut himself off, quickly taking control of a shadow wave and stepping across the street to safety. An emerald hand breached the ground where he once stood, forming from a nigh invisible dab of Undying blood.

Jude reacted without warning, allowing rage and instinct to guide his strike. Having practiced Gelo’s incarnation blessing with his parents at every opportunity he could, it was no surprise to Jude that his axe removed the green hand from its wrist and froze both in a layer of hoarfrost. No blood spilled from the served appendage and a Reflection appeared not a moment later, black chain in hand.

Jude didn’t watch the green be sealed away, instead turning to Leland. “We need to go!”

Leland heard him, he truly did. But he couldn’t respond. Not when every instinct in his body told him to stay, more specifically told him to fight.

“I can’t,” he whispered, eyes locating the Harbinger that expressionlessly sundered the Reflection army’s forces.

The Harbinger, now dozens of paces away, faced down ghost after ghost, his thin sword making quick work of the incorporeal defenders. Every few seconds a portal would open somewhere around him, likely in a blind spot, and a wave of diabolical mana would blast out like a cannon. The man defended against the blasts with ease, only being forced to momentarily pause.

Leland recognized his dad’s handywork instantly, it being the same magic that was teleporting people away from Sybil as she walked into the ruins. A question came to him like a whip cracking in his ears. Why were the Harbinger and Sybil walking?

Having found the radiant gray glow easy enough, Leland saw that the princess was just walking. Shaking like a dog, yes, eyes wishing to be tightly shut, yes, being protected by countless defenders, yes. But why was she just walking? Why hadn’t Spencer teleported her away? And, maybe more importantly, why was the Harbinger following her lead?

A meaty hand landed on Leland’s shoulder. “Leals, we’ve got to go! We can’t stay here—”

Few things could fully silence Jude and render him stupefied. A berating from his parents? Yes. A hulking slice of chocolate cake after a long day? Maybe. Leland’s face? Never.

But this time it did. This time Leland’s face ended the conversation before it truly started.

It wasn’t a flicker of fear nor an ember, but a haunted complexion of failed responsibility and frustration. Emerging like a serpent from the depths of the ocean, Leland’s lips fueled a fire long held from within. His jaw clenched, his forehead deep, his eyes grim, there was no choice, there was no running.

There was only duty. Not because he was patriotic and wished to protect the princess. Not because he watched his mom as she was shot out of the sky in a barrel of smoke. Not because he had a profound sense of righteousness and wished to see all Harbingers burn.

But because Sybil was a friend, a somewhat estranged friend, but a friend, nonetheless. And she had already been scarred once, no doubt from the man stalking closer with every passing moment.

A heartbeat passed while Jude and Leland stared at each other, but ultimately Jude relented and released his friend.

“We can’t help, we aren’t strong enough,” Glenny said, reappearing in a shadow.

That was true, Leland knew in his heart. But he had fought a Harbinger before. He almost died, but there was a moment that the Toy Maker’s minion was almost reasonable. They had spoken before their battle, discussing “Harbinger things” before war was declared.

Just then, a shockwave tore the street’s cobblestone from the dirt they sat on. Green fire flowered from the Harbinger’s thin sword, ushering in a heat filled vile life. Rot befell Sybil, bypassing Spencer’s portal defenses like rays of light through a pane of glass.

Luckily, Roy Brown and his great war shields stood firm. He appeared in a flash, stepping into battle bulwarked and without interference. The green flames were cut in half, two streams blasting in either direction like a broken wave against a sea wall.

People caught in the diversion died instantly, but the defenders close enough to Sybil, and in turn Roy, were protected by a great golden aegis. It appeared from his hand tattoo, the iconic Bastion Legacy, wrapping around the Undying Army and cutting off their attacks.

Once the green fire waned, Diana landed in the street with a resounding thud. Rocks and solid chunks of earth ripped from the ground, conjoining around the Harbinger with unprecedented force. The rocks splintered, reaching high and low and thus encasing the man in a dome of stone.

It was the same ability as Jude’s, but on a much grander scale.

Diana didn’t stop, however, thrusting her glowing battle axe forward with the strength of pure rage. The world warped at the attack, bending into the swing like a sponge being punched. The air sprung back, multiplying the strike several over. Her axe connected with the dome, turning it to dust.

A chink of metal on metal sounded along with a hail of green sparks, but as the dust settled, Diana’s attack hardly even scratched the Harbinger’s sword. He smirked, unleashing a single streamlined lunge. It was slow, incredibly slow, but still roared through the battlefield at Diana.

Multiple bulwarks flashed into existence before Jude’s mom, canceling the attack before it could fully start. Now sprinting, rage fueled Diana’s next blow – a crescent shaped blast of red hot energy. The attack never made it, residual rot in the air degrading it with the speed of eternal death.

The Harbinger then spoke, “Him.”

The street stood still as the word echoed against ruined buildings and dead bodies. An invisible struggle gripped Roy as two highly specialized mages attacked and defended. On Roy’s side, Spencer rotated through countless cantrips and structured magical formulas, blocking any and all attempts at speed befitting a master.

Opposite him, however, was the second member of the Harbinger’s vile duo. A Witch, the one who had originally kidnapped Sybil only for Spencer to later rescue her. Unfortunately for both Sybil and Spencer, the Witch, a Legacy of Pathways, had researched to her heart’s content.

Almost a full week of constant intrusions into the royal campus, the Witch had learned all of Spencer’s tricks. Well, maybe not all, but certainly enough to challenge his hold over the street’s space. She quickly found a weakness in the prepared spatial netting, attacking it without reprieve.

As a result, Roy suddenly disappeared and the Harbinger’s thin sword swung at Diana.