I Awakened A Divine Curse

Meredith stared at Auren for a couple of seconds. Her face remained an unreadable mask—no blink, no flicker of emotion across her features. Just emptiness.

Then she tilted her head slightly and asked in a flat tone.

"What do you mean?"

Auren sighed.

He would be lying if he claimed he hadn't expected her, of all people, to harbor a shred of doubt, to question things. Though she rarely spoke, Meredith carried herself like someone burdened with countless secrets.

At times, she appeared utterly indifferent toward the Heavenly Rulers of their realm.

Yet her response knocked him off-balance. There definitely lurked more beneath her surface than anyone could see—perhaps just not in this particular area.

He exhaled and let his shoulders sag.

"It's going to be difficult to explain to you."

He glanced at her again. Her eyes remained detached, her gaze fixed on him, still awaiting her answer as if his words had simply evaporated into the air between them.

Auren drew a deep breath and faced her squarely. Perching on the intact portion of the alcove, he began to unravel his thoughts:

"These entities called Gods that we've discovered being worshipped in this trial... What if they were forged by something greater, a being infinitely more powerful? And what if these Gods, in turn, crafted the Archons?"

Meredith's gaze narrowed to slits. Silence hung between them for several heartbeats before she shook her head.

Her voice flowed like honey, wrapping the air around them in unexpected warmth.

"That makes no sense. The Archons aren't Gods—they're fundamental laws. They don't exist because of people or concepts; concepts exist because of them. Because of Hope, we possess faith, strength, belief, trust, loyalty, and more. If Hope were stripped away, what do you imagine would happen to these other values that define our humanity?"

Auren's mind flashed to every conversation he'd ever had with children his age who frequented the chapel and absorbed teachings about the Archons.

He nearly stopped there, sensing the futility, yet the fragments he knew about the Gods and World Shapers tugged at him to continue. Still, he hesitated to reveal everything outright.

Experience had taught him that confronting devout believers with logical arguments often backfired—they interpreted such attempts as attacks on their faith, creating chasms between people.

He didn't want that distance with Meredith. Besides, his knowledge remained too incomplete; sharing these half-formed theories would make him sound foolish.

This puzzle still trapped him, pieces refusing to align properly.

He met her gaze, a subtle spark of defiance kindling in his eyes.

"What do you mean it makes no sense? Hope isn't the origin of everything, and as far as I know—as far as we all know—a civilization existed before ours."

"And what became of it?" Meredith's voice remained perfectly level.

"It collapsed. A civilization without the Archons' guidance eventually crumbles."

"Then what about the Magistratum? They don't explicitly worship any Archons."

"The Magistratum is a governing body formed through the Unification of all Archons. The Archons and Their Provinces harbor too many differences—the Magistratum serves as a neutral force to restrain all six Provinces should they overstep. We can't claim they reject the Archons. Don't they count Blesseds among their ranks?"

Meredith's point struck home, making the very concept of the Magistratum seem increasingly absurd. Auren knew little about them; politics held no fascination for him—only the sword commanded his interest.

"The problem none of you seem to grasp is that the old civilization—if we can even call it that—flourished for thousands of years and surpassed us technologically beyond measure…"

He pressed on:

"They possessed chariots with four wheels that moved without beasts to pull them, trains far swifter and more elegant than our crude versions, towers that scraped the sky, and metal-winged vessels that soared through clouds... They prospered magnificently before their downfall, yet all we witness is their ruin. Meanwhile, we've only backslid from their achievements, scavenging the fossils of their civilization to cobble together a pitiful excuse for technology."

Meredith studied him, exhaling a breath heavy with disappointment.

"Auren. All I hear is ingratitude and discontent. Do you question Hope's supremacy because you're ungrateful for the gifts bestowed upon you?"

His brow furrowed into deep creases.

"What? No! What do you even mean 'ingratitude'? I cherish everything in my life. But gratitude and contentment don't mean I should excuse mediocrity when I'm capable of more, or that I shouldn't question what's accepted as normal or inevitable."

He released a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

"You know what? Forget I ever said anything."

He pivoted to leave but halted mid-step, casting a final glance over his shoulder. His eyes had hardened to flint.

"And don't you dare speak that word—'gift.' Hope has given me nothing but sorrow and death. And I shall repay her, tenfold."

He stalked away, his footsteps measured and deliberate as he disappeared around the corner to inspect the Temple's remaining alcoves.

Moments later, Jasper emerged from the shadows and approached Meredith. He had lingered nearby throughout their exchange, but the heated words between them had convinced him to remain concealed.

"Lady Merr. Is all well?"

Meredith nodded with characteristic indifference, then asked after a heartbeat's pause.

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing relating to the relic, but I did learn some things about the Sanctuary itself."

Meredith fell silent, her gaze drifting to some distant point before focusing again.

"You say Sanctuary, but Auren says Temple. Are you both speaking of the same place?"

Jasper lifted his shoulders in a thoughtful shrug.

"I noticed that discrepancy too, but I believe it's a matter of translation. According to the runes in Lost Aviscles that I studied, these peculiar structures are called Sanctuaries. It's possible that Master Auren knows of a language that renders it as 'Temple' in Hope's provincial tongue. Our languages, while fundamentally similar, diverge significantly when converting written symbology to spoken word."

He paused, secretly admiring the intensity etched across Meredith's features, and continued with a gentle smile playing at his lips.

"I'd advocate for calling it a Sanctuary, though. That term captures what we can comprehend most accurately. Referring to it as a Temple somehow feels... sacrilegious toward the Archons in whose memory we stand."

Meredith acknowledged this with a slight nod and turned away.

"We should rest here awhile. Then we'll set out."

Jasper hesitated, gathering his courage as Meredith began to drift away.

"Set out... where exactly would we be going?"

Meredith glanced back, her profile sharp against the dim light.

"Where else? We must find a way to complete this trial, with or without the Dawn."

***

After thoroughly exploring the Temple, Auren discovered nothing of particular significance—save for a collection of ancient tomes inscribed with the same runic language. They appeared to be mundane books of mythology, yet Auren sensed potential value in these stories despite their apparent absurdity. They read more like jests than legitimate tales.

One chronicle described a cloud without eyes that consequently could not navigate alongside its brethren. The text treated clouds as though they naturally possessed eyes, claiming that without them, this particular cloud could not "pee" when others did. This peculiarity marked it as an outcast until it found companionship with a human girl, following her everywhere and shielding her from the "harsh and glaring eyes of the Supreme Cloud Ruler."

These precise, bizarre phrases appeared throughout the narrative.

Though Auren found the text relatively simple to decipher, he questioned whether he should take it at face value. Were these allegories meant to be interpreted figuratively? Was he missing some profound underlying message?

Ultimately, he decided to accept them as written, which only heightened their strangeness in his estimation. Each successive tale proved more bewildering than its predecessor until, at last, his patience unraveled, and he abandoned his study.

Afterwards, Auren decided to check out his soul.

Name: [Auren Veyne]

Soul Name: [Unattained]

Curse: [Requiem Of A Failed Hero]

Soul Rank: [Nascent]

Soul Heart: [Minor]

Absorbed Curses: [86/10,000]

Curse Abilities: [Devourer<]

He stared for a few seconds, wishing he could absorb ten thousand curses right now and see what happens. But that was after impossible.

And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't need to absorb ten thousand curses to see what happens.

Either ways, only time could tell.

Auren focused on the Devourer instead.

Curse: [Devourer]

Type: [Passive]

Description: [This is the Requiem of a Failed Hero, how that every trial to save was met with a devastating ruin and end, such that he could succeed no more. He became the embodiment of failure. True Failure. He became the embodiment of Death, and Death devours all. This was the birth of Devourer.]

Devoured Abilities: [Midas Touch], [Wane], [Duskbrand]

Devoured Shards: [Shackles of Depravity], [Shackles of Depravity], [The Sentinel's Regret], [Home of Rage], [Shadow Throne], [Withering Fate], [Claw Twins], [Thorned Oath], [Hater], [Blood Reverb], [Stormglass]...

There were many more—all of them sword names. The names of every blade the Polypheme had wielded.

Auren yearned to study each and every one, determined to discover which he would inevitably become addicted to.

For now, Withering Fate served him well. With his [Midas Touch] ability, he needn't worry about soul energy to keep the power flowing. Still, he refused to assume that even Devourer abilities wouldn't drain his reserves.

Everything ran on energy.

Lumen.

Of course, Nascents like them had no reason for concern. Their Blessings remained in Nascency, having no use for lumen yet. All their Blessings possessed a passive aspect earned the moment they received it—likely what sustained them now.

But Auren's case differed. He knew he already tapped into his soul energy; he just couldn't pinpoint how.

And he felt no rush to understand. All these mysteries would unravel the moment he ascended to Devout.

Auren sighed as he circled back to that same dreaded thought.

He lingered on it. The reason he had followed Meredith and Jasper here wasn't truly to help them find a relic that would restore Dawn.

He wanted to find the relic, certainly—but not for that purpose.

Auren wasn't ready to relinquish this thing called Dawn. This remained his sole thread of significance. What if letting go meant embracing the very end of his existence?

Why sacrifice his own livelihood to help them pass the trial?

He had already died in Hope Province. If this shadow of life was all he had left to cling to, Auren would clutch it with selfish desperation.

Because unlike the others who knew what awaited them beyond the trial, he walked blind.

So they would have to excuse him—and find another path to end the trial.

Which he'd be waiting to crush.