I Awakened A Divine Curse

Auren's words made the air still, drier than it had any right to be.

Asenya stood beside him—silent, composed—but even she turned her head, the faintest trace of shock crossing her features at what had just spilled from the boy's lips.

But Auren didn't seem to care.

He simply added.

"Well! Take me to your damn king. There's divine retribution waiting for him. What in the world is this senseless shedding of blood?"

The Knight shifted slightly. The dim light in his eyes flared, kindling anew at Auren's defiance.

He leaned away from the golden man and turned to Auren, voice calm yet firm.

"I shall take you to the King, Sir Cadre."

Just then, the cloaked men reached them. The one at the front glanced at the Knight.

"Sir Armsteir, why would you take the Divine Cadre to the King? Matters such as these should be handled by the Temple of the Dark God."

He turned to Auren and bowed low.

"Divine Cadre, we are honored by your presence. However, tradition dictates that one of your station meets first with the Archpriest, the divine God's chosen voice to humanity. It would be a shame to sully your sacred essence with too much... human interaction."

Auren regarded the priest coolly, a flicker of disdain dancing across his expression.

'Shady!'

He turned back to the Knight.

'I like this one better.'

"Please take me to the King."

The Knight nodded, a proud glimmer blooming in his eyes. Auren saw it—recognized it.

They clicked!

'Don't tell me I'm about to make my first friend…'

Auren beamed inwardly like a child—well, technically, he was.

The Knight turned to the priests, his voice suddenly heavy, thick with the weight of command.

"The Divine Cadre wishes to meet the King. Do you have a problem with that?"

The priests said nothing, but their glares were sharp as they backed away, silent and simmering.

The Knight stepped forward and bowed slightly to Auren.

"Please, follow me."

Auren and Asenya followed as he led them through the upscale terrain toward the keep.

As they walked, leaving the priests behind, Auren studied the path ahead, then glanced over his shoulder. His eyes drifted from the keep to the Knight, then to the golden man who had remained behind.

"Isn't this… the same place they came from?"

The Knight offered a calm, almost roguish smile, his voice touched with quiet reverence.

"Indeed it is, Divine Cadre. However, this is only a temporary war fortress. Both kingdoms agreed not to lay siege to their main cities. This keep… it's more of a war camp. It used to be a Temple—one ruled by a Catastrophic Wretched."

Auren's mouth parted slightly.

"Oooh, a Catastrophic Wretched. That would've been an easy battle."

The Knight chuckled.

"Easy? Perhaps, for a Divine Cadre. Your power is said to be without limit. But we lost three hundred brave soldiers to that thing. I also lost three Knights—friends to me."

Auren fell silent, letting the heaviness of that truth hang between them.

Then, softly, he exhaled.

"I'm sorry about that."

The Knight smiled gently.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Your presence alone is a balm. Many say the gods are dead… but your arrival speaks otherwise."

Auren gave a small nod, a flickering, uncertain smile ghosting across his face.

"Well… yes."

He paused, frowning slightly, brow creasing.

"But… what you said earlier. Doesn't that mean both kingdoms are just pretending to be at war? Not really fighting?"

The Knight looked down.

"The King's will is absolute. There are many things we do not understand… but also cannot question."

Auren's brow creased.

"If you don't understand something, why can't you question it? That's not order—that's tyranny. I question the Dark God all the time."

The Knight looked up at him, eyes widening slightly. Then he lowered his gaze again, uncertainty flickering across his face like a shadow caught in wind.

After a pause, he spoke slowly.

"The Divine God of Darkness… we were taught he is fearsome. That he must never be disobeyed. You don't move beneath his gaze."

'Yikes.'

Auren's frown deepened, casting a cold look at the Knight.

"Your teachings are twisted. Looks like I have to meet that damned Archpriest after all."

He sighed and turned his eyes forward.

"Well, you're not entirely wrong. The Dark God is fearsome. And no, he can't be disobeyed. His power is absolute. If he doesn't want to answer your question, he won't."

Auren's voice softened, but his words sharpened with clarity.

"But that's exactly what makes him amazing. He doesn't rule like a tyrant. He leads with compassion. I don't serve him because he forced me to—I serve him because I want to. He doesn't compel you… he inspires duty."

He ended with a quiet, thoughtful smile.

The Knight's eyes held a flicker of subtle surprise, but he said nothing. He turned forward just as the soldiers pushed open the doors to the main hall, which extended toward the right wing—the priests had emerged earlier from the left.

Auren exhaled and stepped calmly into the keep's hall.

They were immediately met by rows of nobles, lining both sides of the corridor—right and left, like carved statues watching his every move.

As Auren walked between them, something unfamiliar crawled into his chest—cold feet. His steps began to tremble, ever so slightly, but he pressed forward regardless.

He stopped at the base of the dais, eyes lifting to the rugged, matte-black throne where the king sat.

Auren tilted his head, studying the man seated above him. He was no stranger to royalty. He'd seen governors and nobles throughout the Hope Province—each a powerhouse in their own right. Fearsome. Commanding. Even the ones who'd let their bodies go soft still exuded danger.

But this king…

'He's definitely been eating well, that's for sure.'

The man slouched in his throne, arms draped over the sides, his belly protruding like it ruled the room on its own.

Auren stood still for several seconds, eyes thoughtful, mind ticking.

'From what little I know of Trials… kings are monarchy leaders. They're like governors—only higher up the chain. Governors usually bow before the pontifices. And technically, that's what I'm serving as right now… Even if it's a premium-grade lie, shouldn't he at least… get off his throne? Show some respect?'

He shifted his gaze across the hall. Whispers slithered through the room like smoke. He didn't need to guess what stirred them.

Even dressed in that sinister armor, looking every bit the dreadful envoy, Auren's size gave him away. He was short. Asenya, standing beside him, towered over him. And without the helm, his youthful face was plain for all to see.

He clicked his tongue.

'Tsk. I messed up.'

His fingers itched to summon the helmet, to reclaim the mystery and fear the armor offered—but doing that now would send the wrong message.

What he needed was not intimidation through obscured features. What he needed to show… was that the face didn't matter.

That they should fear him regardless.

He raised his chin and let out a cold chuckle that echoed through the shadowed hall.

"How stupid… and endearing of you all. Standing before the Divine Cadre of the Dark God with your heads held high."

His voice dripped with disdain, thick with contempt—and one by one, the nobles faltered. They glanced left, then right… and began lowering their heads, stealing nervous glances as if hoping someone else would move first.

From Auren's armor, a dark, crimson fog began to seep out, snaking across the ground like tendrils of living malice. In an instant, the entire hall felt heavier… darker.

Their limbs began to tremble. Fear pressed down on them like an invisible ceiling. Shoulders drooped. Heads hung low. The air was thick enough to drown in.

A reverent silence settled like dust. One by one, every noble behind and around Auren bowed their heads—save for Asenya, who remained unmoved.

Auren let his gaze wander slowly over the room and murmured inwardly,

'That's better… Now…'

He turned his eyes to the throne.

"You. Where is your respect for the Divine God? Should you not be standing?"

From where Auren stood, he couldn't quite make out the King's expression. But it was clear—whatever look he wore, it wasn't fear.

The King's voice crept out almost at once—low, flat, and worn like old steel.

"The gods have been silent for generations. We've shed blood on every step of this land to protect their legacies. If the Dark God is watching, then he will have to forgive this old man's body—it has grown tired from doing the gods' work in their absence."

The hall, already steeped in silence, fell into something deeper—something heavier—when the King stopped speaking.

Auren slowly lifted his head. His eyes narrowed slightly.

He was… surprised.

'I'm impressed! He is brazen and that is befitting of a king… Wait. Wait. I can't be admiring him—I'm his enemy right now.'

Auren slowly shifted his expression to the king… and a demented wide grin broke out of his face.

"How brazen of you!"