I Awakened A Divine Curse

Auren ran unrestrained, barreling toward the crowd of Cursed Creatures with blistering speed. As he closed in, he released a skill—one he hadn't possessed before.

A dark, foreboding aura erupted from him like a silent explosion. His eyes gleamed with a bone-chilling light, and as they locked onto the approaching creatures, many collapsed where they stood, paralyzed by a terror they couldn't comprehend.

Some crumpled in place.

Others pressed forward, utterly unaffected by the invisible torrent of dread surging from him—charging with mindless rage.

The first to reach him looked like a jackal stripped of mercy, its eyes missing from their sockets, and its fangs jutting out grotesquely to cage a serpentine tongue that slithered from its throat. It snarled and leapt, a blur of teeth and twisted muscle.

Auren tilted his head up calmly. Then stepped aside as it came crashing down, angling his body just enough to avoid the assault. He surged forward, thrusting his blade into the thing's ribbed flank. The strike was surgical—swift and merciless. He dragged the sword through meat and bone, spraying a brutal arc of blood as he tore it free with a violent jerk.

The pale blade gleamed in the light like a shy killer trying not to be noticed.

Auren spared it a glance and smiled.

'I like you.'

His arm was already moving when he heard the whisper in his soul:

[You have slain, Minor Blighted, Morbid Hound]

[The Curse of your soul grows stronger…]

He noted it distantly. It only meant Devourer had more to feed on.

He pivoted sharply, twisting his body as another hound lunged from the side. In a fluid motion, he drew the sword full-circle, using the shift in momentum to evade and bury the pale steel deep into the creature's torso, dragging the blade through as he moved.

Blood splattered across his legs as the beast staggered back in a ruined heap.

He didn't need to ensure fatal strikes. One way or another, they were all doomed—because of [Wane].

After dying so many times by the hands of the Polypheme, the ability had evolved to something far more vicious. Every wound he inflicted now carried a rotting curse—a slow, invisible death. The moment his blade touched flesh, the countdown began.

Of course, the effect scaled with the creature's rank.

He had seen that firsthand—when he'd clashed with the winged abomination that turned out to be a Catastrophic Blighted. [Wane] had been little more than a nuisance to that abomination. It was too slow, too slight, to matter against something that could eviscerate him in a blink.

Auren dove low, sliding under a creature with featherless, twisted wings gliding overhead.

But just then, something lunged from beneath the ground.

His heart plummeted, cold and sharp. For one breathless second, he feared the worst.

Then a clamp closed hard around his leg.

And oddly, he felt relief.

With no hesitation, he brought his sword down, severing the clamp in a single, clean motion. He twisted the blade and smashed it into the creature's grotesque head—its skull doubling as a hardened shell. The steel sank deep. He allowed himself a brief moment of stillness.

He gritted his teeth, tore the clamped limb from his leg, and flung it skyward.

It spun wildly—and collided midair with the gliding abomination, knocking it off course.

Auren yanked his blade free, turned, and struck down another Cursed Creature lunging from behind with a single, brutal stroke.

Elsewhere, Jasper and Meredith had joined the fray.

Both of them held their ground, cutting through enemies with precision and pace.

Meredith was farther out, but Auren could still sense her—like a warm flicker at the edge of the storm.

She was using something…

'Is that…?'

Auren's eyes glinted, lips twitching with amusement.

It was fleeting, but enough to cost him.

A hound streaked toward him—fast, silent, and cruel.

But then, a sharp whistle split the air.

An arrow struck the hound straight in the face, halting it mid-lunge. Auren stepped forward, capitalizing on the kill, and in one fluid motion, beheaded it.

Jasper stood a couple dozen meters away, surrounded by snarling Morbid Hounds. Their twisted maws gnashed in the air, hungry for flesh. The charming prince wore a faintly affected expression—one of mild inconvenience rather than fear—but his grip on the sword was resolute, a vow etched in steel, the kind even death would struggle to sever.

He observed them carefully, his gaze flicking between their twitching limbs and jittery aggression. The moment they began to leap, Jasper darted sideways, swift and fluid. He didn't strike. Not yet. His intention was cunning—he gambled on his speed and poise.

One lunged for his throat—he ducked.

It flew past and crashed into another.

Cursed Creatures with Minor curses were brainless abominations at best, easily fooled by movement, more instinct than mind. The two snarled at each other, confused rage mounting, and within moments they tore into each other's flesh in a rabid frenzy.

The other two came for him, jaws wide and claws raking the earth.

Jasper ran. Every step deliberate. Every movement clean.

Just as the creatures lunged, he turned sharply on his heel, executing a fine twirl that caused them to slam into each other mid-air.

Their fury snapped loose in a second brawl.

While they clawed and bit, Jasper struck—his curved saber flashing.

A precise slash carved through one, and with a single, seamless sweep, he beheaded the other.

By the time he stepped toward the final hound, the victor of the chaotic fray had already risen.

It had devoured its brother's Soul Heart and flesh—and now stood taller, its blood-slick body glinting with a wicked light that unsettled Jasper to his core.

That shimmer… something in it writhed.

Then—

A sharp whistle tore through the air—an arrow buried itself in the creature's eye.

The abomination shrieked, stumbling back.

Another followed instantly—striking its neck and nearly exiting through the other side in one vicious stroke.

Jasper froze, momentarily stunned by the clean, ruthless precision of the arrows.

His lips parted, barely a whisper escaping his thoughts.

'...Lady Meredith. She's so good at everything!'