I Awakened A Divine Curse

Auren's death was sealed the moment he drew the sword. Apparently, he was right. The Garden of Grief couldn't be robbing him of his senses.

It was the sword's doing. The blade was his only point of contact in the realm of true darkness. He realized this the instant he lost that physical connection.

He felt liberated, and his mind wandered to the one possibility he hadn't considered—the very thing that hadn't crossed his mind even fleetingly. The sword.

Which wasn't far-fetched, considering it belonged to a woman who appeared to be in her thirties but had actually lived beyond five centuries.

When Auren framed it that way, it made perfect sense for the blade to be damned and cursed. Yet such a manner of death seemed profoundly wicked. The sword seemed to be stripping him of everything he relied on at that moment.

Which meant to wield a weapon like this, he needed to master detachment from those very things.

He needed to stop relying on his eyes, his senses, whatever thrill that fueled his resolve in wielding the swors. He needed to detach himself from them, or else the sword would only steal them again.

Now, that appeared to be a monumental task. But he clearly had no choice. The issue wasn't death itself but what he lost along the journey toward it. Those losses were especially excruciating.

This sword... it embodied a different breed of malevolence.

Auren sighed.

'What archonforsaken trial have I stumbled into? Or did that bastard place me here to endure endless suffering?'

What if he attempted to live? Or would it be wiser to disappoint Hope and forge a sanctuary for himself within this trial? After all, no one waited for him to awaken. By now, his body would have long been interred, even Relisé would have moved on—either returning to her homeland or dismissed by his father.

Either way, perhaps this wasn't such a terrible paradise.

Auren paused his thoughts momentarily.

'Yeah... I'm definitely going crazy.'

It took him just a heartbeat to realize he wasn't dead anymore, and though he had awakened, the forest wasn't attacking him. He propped himself up and surveyed his surroundings.

All around him stood a thick, impenetrable wall of darkness.

'Ah... the fog.'

He had managed to reach it.

And he didn't have to grieve.

A faint smile ghosted across Auren's lips.

He was immaculate, not even the shadow of a wound remained on his body. If he attempted to tell the tale of what had just befallen him while looking this pristine, no one—absolutely no one—would believe him.

Auren collapsed back onto the cold ground, shutting his eyes for a few moments and simply resting. He lay motionless, his mind blissfully vacant for a while.

Then he opened his eyes.

'Right... I should check that out.'

He had received an ability, after all, from getting killed by a sword. Auren was eager to see what it might be.

The runes shimmered to life before him.

Name: [Auren Veyne]

Soul Name: [Not attained]

Curse: [Requiem of a Failed Hero]

Tier: [Divine]

Soul Rank: [Nascent]

Soul Heart: [Minor]

Absorbed Curses: [36/10,000]

Curse Abilities: [Devourer...]

Auren scrutinized the absorbed curses that had remained rather stagnant for a while. He didn't like it, but it wasn't as if he'd had many opportunities to kill when he'd been running all night.

'It's probably still night...'

Dawn was currently trapped inside of him, after all.

Auren's thoughts were about to drift when he reined himself in and checked on Devourer.

Curse Abilities: [Devourer]

Description: Due to your Divine Curse, your soul is imbued with the property of gluttony, allowing you to consume a corrupted soul should they dare to extinguish the fickle flames of your own. When a fragment of their soul is consumed, you gain a fragmented ability of their Curse.

Fragmented Abilities: [Metal Skin], [Wither]

The corner of Auren's lips quirked upward slightly. It felt satisfying to see one more added.

'Two already, that's soothing.'

It truly was. Auren drew a soft, cooling breath and studied his new ability.

[Wither]

Description: When fighting an opponent, by persistently striking the same point, you can cause their connection to that point to wither. This is only possible by direct contact of your skin to their skin.

Auren contemplated it for a few seconds.

'I see... best suited for hand-to-hand combat. I can't boast of prowess in hand-to-hand yet, but it's nice to have something that would give me an edge in a battle of attrition.'

But it wasn't as if he sucked at close combat.

He wouldn't lose against an ordinary opponent, but if he were to face someone who specialized in it as much as he favored the sword, Auren couldn't be certain how he'd fare at all.

After confirming his new ability, he exhaled and finally rose to his feet.

He had to press onward, after all.

Beyond the fog, he could glimpse the blurry scenery of the Garden of Grief and the twisted, inverted trees, fading into the distance as the black fog encroached.

Indeed, he hadn't grieved and had managed to pass through. Even though it had been a different kind of hell when he could have chosen to simply face the sorrows of losing his mother and traverse the plain in peace.

Auren scoffed softly.

'Who says you can't always have it your way...'

One just had to be desperate and dogged enough to cling to whatever it was they wanted. Auren knew he was stubborn—fiercely stubborn.

It would likely land him in considerable trouble in the future, but at the very least, he appreciated that about himself.

Glancing at the Garden of Grief with a look of finality, he turned away and began to walk forward, deeper into the fog. The farther he ventured, the more endless the journey to his next destination seemed to become.

But he wasn't deterred—he was growing accustomed to certain trials in this realm of true darkness. Having to trek so far was actually merciful compared to what he'd already endured.

Or perhaps he was simply becoming inured to these methods of suffering.

He even had to question himself: Had he ever truly received love before?

Auren answered his own query without hesitation.

'Of course, I have...'

Though his actual memories of his mother might be hazy, Relisé and Ezryn appeared vividly in his mind. Those two represented a world he'd sacrifice anything to protect. Well, except Ezryn, considering the fact that he himself was a formidable Consecrated capable of defending himself.

It was Relisé who truly concerned him.

Auren's thoughts abruptly halted as he noticed something—a subtle red glow interspersed with shimmering black sparks. And the phenomenon... the glow began to drift gradually closer.

Auren's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.

'Red... red... red and black.'

His true purpose here was finally manifesting…