Curselock: A Cursed LITRPG Adventure

“My name is Leland, and I am a Harbinger of the Calamity,” Leland said, mustering up every shred of courage he could conceivably find, “…and if you interfere with my plans, then it will be war.”

Cold, dead eyes locked onto Leland’s, and for a moment, the world was silent. No longer did the buzz of countless bugs skitter around in rot. No longer did Glenny mutter to himself in worry. Not even Sybil made a sound, she and the Lord connected to her.

No, for a moment there was only the two Harbingers, for a moment there was nothing more than two envoys of their respective Lords. One a murderer, the other holding a declaration of war.

“Whose are you?”

The question was expected and Leland instantly pivoted onto the balls of his feet. He lowered himself, an offensive and defensive measure. Not that it would do anything.

“She goes by the Calamity.”

The Harbinger of the Undying Army hesitated. The name wasn’t familiar to him, but it sure as hell was to the Lord watching the conversation from a prison worlds away. The reflection in the man’s eyes twisted like a child before an angry parent. An inhuman growl blazed in the throat of the man, a voice then came out, one not of the Harbinger’s but of his master.

“I do not wish for war.”

Leland flinched, lowering himself even more. The voice reminded him of the Toy Maker’s vessel, a Lord inhabiting a body not meant for such power. But this time the Lord in question wasn’t forcing his power into the husk, but rather speaking through it like a shortcut across a grassy field.

“How shall we proceed?” the Undying Lord asked.

Leland forced himself to breathe, noting that the world had fallen away for the moment. Glenny was no longer at his side, Sybil was completely gone. It was just him and a true predator, one that was famously heinous.

“Y-you leave and—”

“I was not speaking to you,” the voice said. “I will not convene with mortals as weak as you.”

Leland glanced at his hand tattoo, finding it oddly stationary. The one time he wished for the damn bird to peck him, and it was silent. But that got him thinking, could the Lord of Curses speak through him? The Harbinger was doing it, maybe things truly could be worked out amicably.

But no, no voice passed across his vocal cords. No messages appeared randomly in his mind. No sharp pains of his tattoo’s guidance. The Lord of Curses was not present, she was not going to help him. For some reason, however, that didn’t bother Leland too much. Maybe it was because he already figured he was alone in this, or maybe because somewhere deep within the folds of his mind he saw the glass as half full.

The Lord of Curses knew he could do this on his own.

“Why would she speak to someone as weak as you?”

The question escaped Leland’s lips without a second thought. How many times had he talked to various Lords over the months since being able to forge contracts? Had he ever shown such disrespect before?

Glenny, who was still standing beside Leland, inched away. He didn’t understand what was happening, but from the change in the Harbinger’s voice and tone, he had somewhat of an idea. And what Leland had just said, well, he was suddenly liking his chances of survival far less. His eyes fell on the mangled mess of a person across the way, his father. Bloated purple and green, black lines of death traced the rot coursing through his veins.

At that moment, Glenny decided he needed to find a chance to escape and save his—

Glenny almost stumbled over his feet. He blinked at where his father had just been, only to find a pile of gravel and emerald sickness.

Where did— The question was answered almost instantly, a shadow kicking its way across the ruins. Glenny recognized her instantly, the Huntress. His heart now beating with a second wind, Glenny inched back toward Leland, ready to yank him out of the way of whatever attack the Harbinger might throw.

Leland’s statement had left both the Harbinger and the Lord currently in control of his vocal cords silent. The two, or rather three, stared at each other, Leland the only one actively squirming. The pressure, he had suddenly come to notice, was quite heavy. An anvil, maybe two, were stacked on his head while a waterwheel churned his stomach.

“I see,” the Undying Lord finally said. “What are your plans and how shall we not interfere with one another?”

“Glenny, his father, Sybil, and I all go free unharmed,” Leland answered instantly.

“Fine.”

That was… not the answer he was expecting, especially so easily. Something deep in the back of his mind screamed at him, but it was far too muffled to be heard over the heavy breathing coming from the Harbinger’s mouth.

“Then you leave,” Leland demanded.

“Not until my plans are fulfilled,” the Undying Lord said, the irises of the Harbinger morphing into a deep well of roots and vines.

It took a moment, but the Harbinger was now snarling like his leg was caught in a thorn bush. Just… just what was happening here, Leland wondered, noting a sudden waft of pine. They were currently surrounded by mashed brick and all-consuming rot, not a forest.

“And those plans are?” Leland then asked.

“My resurrection.”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“No.”

“Then it’s war.”

“You will die.”

“So will you.” Leland dug deep, continuing, “The Toy Maker’s death wasn’t quick, as I understand it.”

That was a complete lie, Leland had absolutely no idea how fast the Lord’s death was. But, if the Lord of Curses fought with any spell similar to the arsenal of his Legacy, having your soul ripped out took a long while. The statement was another gamble, but then again, what wasn’t a gamble in this situation?

“I am Undying,” the Lord growled, the Harbinger’s irises abruptly changing to a cascade of death. Thousands, millions even, of lives had been taken and lived by the Undying Lord. What was one more?

Leland gave a weak shrug and the Harbinger’s face twitched.

“What are your plans for resurrection?”

The Undying Lord’s next words came without patience, “A grafted body.”

Even not knowing what that meant, Leland knew it wasn’t good. But still, he thought about it. An immortal imprisoned in thorns and vines wanted a new body. And as he had already learned, a mortal body couldn’t handle a Lord’s soul. So that left only one other option, the Boneforged Monarch.

“You wish to take the Monarch’s body as your own,” Leland concluded.

What was he supposed to say here? “Oh sure, take Sybil’s Lord’s body. Take the being that has protected the Palemarrow Kingdom’s wellbeing since its creation. That’s fine, as long as you don’t harm me?” That didn’t work on many levels, all of which Leland figured he had no actual say in.

“No,” he finally said. “That doesn’t work for me. If you try, then it’s war.”

“Mortal…” the word was mulled with an unfortunate madness. Countless lives imprisoned, never to die, never to breathe, never to eat, never to drink. Forever confined, forever forgotten except in a children’s tale about someone else. “I have waited countless years for my glorious return. If ending things here without war means only a few more, well so be it.”

Leland swallowed, and turned to Glenny without ever taking his eyes off the Harbinger and Lord. “Go, get out of here. Take your dad and run.”

“L-Leland—”

“Glenny, get out of here,” Leland muttered gutturally, like a man standing before his deepest darkest fear, like a man standing before war.

Leland didn’t notice, but Glenny didn’t exit the dome on his own accord. Rather he was taken, yanked away by a familiar hand holding a familiar bow.

The Lord and Harbinger combination didn’t care to watch the mortal go, nor to stop the other mortal from interfering. No, the Lord only had his eyes set on Leland.

“Sybil? Can you hear me? We need to go—”

Just then, the Harbinger flicked the dome, destroying it like a mace to a watermelon.

Leland flinched, his eyes going straight up to the rot and ruin towering above. Emerald was all he saw, an endless sea of the green of thousands of bugs... but they didn’t fall, not quite. Slowly, like the tide, the rot and bugs drifted back into the form of the weapon the Harbinger ripped from his chest. It took several minutes, but the weapon eventually made its way back to its owner’s hand.

“Just cleaning up,” the Undying Lord spoke, something snide hidden in the syllables.

Leland didn’t have the luxury of thinking about such things, instead turning his attention to Sybil. She was no longer glowing, yet the Boneforged Monarch still was. The pair was standing in one another, like the reflection of two mirrors pointed at one another. When Leland set his hand on her shoulder, both faces turned to him.

“L-Leland?”

He was having a hard time with the glow, the searing light causing him to walk to her blind. Sybil must have realized this because the glow abruptly cut out. He opened his eyes, finding two beings watching him. He spoke to Sybil.

“We need to go,” Leland nodded toward the Harbinger. “Before he changes his mind.”

“O-of course,” Sybil whispered, fiddling with her belt. After a moment, she removed her blank white mask, donning it like the Queen does her crown every day.

The Boneforged Monarch’s ethereal form abruptly faded away, leaving Sybil as she stood. Leland, however, could still see her. Neither of them stopped to think about that, and instead Leland took her hand and started moving. They only took a few steps before Leland’s hand suddenly started to throb. He spared a glance, finding the crow tattoo had pecked him.

The Undying Lord then spoke, a smile blazing across the Harbinger’s face.

“Them.”

The word was simple and familiar, one Leland recognized instantly. The command for the Witch to use her magic. He felt the effects right away, a battle between two forces, each taking and giving real estate across his body as they fought for domination. He recognized his dad’s handy work, but didn’t have enough time to celebrate his dad’s apparent wellbeing.

Not when the Witch was winning. It was somewhat gradual but entirely too quick. In a mere moment, the Witch’s magic fully engulfed his and Sybil’s bodies.

But they weren’t teleported away, not yet at least.

Hand raised in a signal to stop, the Harbinger and Lord walked closer. Almost instantly the nag in the back of Leland’s mind redoubled its efforts. He had missed something key, something simple. Just what was it?

The Undying Lord answered the question. “You should really think over your words carefully. Of course I would allow you and yours to go free. But did you really think a sadistic Witch would?”

Leland strained to reply, “But you commanded—”

“Nothing I have done today was an order. Just a… let’s say, a suggestion.”

“T-this will be war!” Leland spat.

“No, no it won’t. Not even the Great Calamity would dare break the rules of the Lords. She created them, after all.” A raspy laugh escaped the Harbinger’s lips. “Goodbye forever, young Harbinger.”

Leland and Sybil were then shoved into a white void, leaving the Harbinger and Undying Lord to wreak havoc.

Yet as Leland spun around in the Void, doing his best to slow the incredible speed at which he and Sybil were flying, he realized they weren’t alone.

Isobel, floating alongside them, cursed.