I Awakened A Divine Curse

As Auren's boots struck the ground, he surged forward, tearing through the ranks of the Highrise Kingdom like a cyclone wrapped in steel. Two short swords gleamed in his hands—cold, merciless, and swift. He moved with the violence of wind but wielded purpose with every step.

Their arrival on the battlefield drew attention—first because of the ink-black serpent that had dropped them, second because of Auren and Asenya's ferocity. Auren's sudden motion shattered the eerie silence that had settled like dust across the war-torn field.

The Heart Kingdom forces, who were being overwhelmed by the devastation Highrise was unleashing, sparked with renewed vigor. A figure clad in dark armor—a silhouette far too familiar to be a stranger—cut through the enemy line, and their spirits soared.

"Reinforcements! Our Dark God has sent his Divine Cadres!"

The words rang out across the battlefield, echoed in frantic joy, and with them came an intoxicating wave of morale. Soldiers who had hesitated now broke free from the chokehold of fear. They launched arrows with steady hands, plunged blades with firm resolve, and screamed cries of vengeance that shook the bloodied ground.

Auren almost gagged at the assumption. His lips curled in disgust as he clicked his tongue and drove deeper into enemy lines. Though his strikes were sharp and he moved like a storm unshackled, the soldiers he faced did not die. They staggered. They crumpled. Disarmed. Broken. But not dead.

Of course, that was expected.

No matter how clever he imagined himself to be, Auren was still sixteen. He hadn't killed a human before. And despite how hollow and twisted these soldiers of Highrise seemed… they were still people.

Cursed Creatures were different. They were monstrosities born of rot and despair—beings meant to be slain. He'd been trained for them, conditioned to strike without hesitation. But humans? Even these ones? That was something else entirely.

Auren reversed his grip on the short blade and drove it toward a soldier's shoulder as the man lunged. The steel bit through with precision, not fatal, but enough. He spun and brought his other sword down with a hard swing, smashing the enemy's weapon from his hand.

Then, with a calculated motion, he struck the soldier's face with the pommel and surged forward without pause—momentarily glancing toward Asenya's direction.

She was near the western wing, though he couldn't see her. What gave her away were the quakes. The ground trembled from that side with frightening consistency. That, and the strange construct that had dropped them into the battlefield was now gone.

They were close to one of the breaches carved into the castle walls. From his vantage point, Auren caught sight of the two massive Knights clashing in the distance—dark armor against darker armor, their weapons colliding with such force that shockwaves rippled visibly through the air like heatwaves over stone.

Since donning his sinister armor and discovering its powers, Auren had felt… formidable. Invincible, even. He had begun to believe he might be the strongest around. That illusion had shattered swiftly.

The first to humble him had been Asenya.

Now, these Knights.

A bitter taste filled his mouth. He turned away.

'These Archons are truly wicked. What business do they have filling a Trial with people as strong as Exalteds? Hell's depths, I can't help but pity us now.'

A soldier lunged again. Auren sidestepped the slash with a sharp pivot, then twisted low and stepped in close. Before the enemy could react, the pommel of his sword slammed into the man's face, dropping him with a grunt.

Now, he was inside the breach.

Auren chose that exact moment to release both [Wane] and [Fear Inducement].

The air beneath the shattered wall thickened with dread. A smoky pall of shadow seeped from his armor, curling out like something alive, hungry and cold. With each step he took, the darkness deepened.

The soldier in crimson and silver armor directly in front of him began to tremble. Though his helmet masked everything—no visor, no slit for breath or sight—his body betrayed him. The tremor in his hands. The slight buckle in his knees.

Auren saw it.

And not just from him. Everyone around the breach had frozen. Shaken. Breaths gasping, weapons lowered a fraction. Fear had clamped down on the battlefield like a fist of iron.

"I guess using both abilities at once enhances their effect."

Still, [Wane] was dangerous.

And Auren wasn't aiming to kill anyone. He wanted to crush morale, to carve out a legend in shadow and smoke, to brand himself as something terrifying—an omen on the battlefield. Something to be feared by enemies and even questioned by allies.

It wasn't just strategy. There was something else—something shamefully thrilling about watching their fear unfold. The way they shook… there was a kind of dark satisfaction that curled in his chest like a serpent around a flame.

Still, he didn't want to kill anyone.

So he deactivated [Wane]—and shot forward.

Meanwhile, Asenya burst through another breach like a force of nature. She didn't just run; she flowed—an uncatchable phantom wielding a glinting metal whip that scraped and rang as it lashed across enemy armor.

She didn't seem to care whether the soldiers she struck lived or died. And it wasn't the whip that made her terrifying—it was when she let it fall away.

There were moments she abandoned it completely, stepping into close quarters with nothing but her bare hands. One punch—and steel armor would fold. One strike—and bodies launched backwards, colliding with the rest in a mess of limbs and groans.

It didn't take long.

The tide of battle began to shift.

The Heart Kingdom forces, driven to desperation moments ago, now surged with wild momentum. They fought harder, gritted their teeth, pushed through wounds and fear, drawn forward by the two figures cleaving through enemy ranks—the ones they called the Divine Cadres.

Black armor. Crimson cloak. They had become symbols.

Auren couldn't help but marvel at the sheer influence of morale. It was almost surreal. He had no idea where the Heart Kingdom had conjured this belief—that he and Asenya were some divine agents of a lost god—but if it worked for them, it worked for him.

If it made them fight harder—perfect.

If it made him seem untouchable—even better.

It fit his plans far too well.

And now, with that belief solidified, he had one more thing to exploit.

Everything was falling into place.