I Awakened A Divine Curse

The battle stretched on. While Meredith and Jasper stayed safely at the outskirts, closer to the Sundered Spire, Auren—showing no regard for his life—dived deeper into the mass of Cursed Creatures, weaving an endless and deadly dance of cold blade.

His Sword Art—he wasn't sure what to name it yet. But there was no better time to hone it, no better place to forge its principle than now.

Auren tried to remember the final note of destruction that Polypheme's sword had ended with. And in truth, it wasn't hard.

The weight of that memory still pressed down on him, hanging over him like death's breath on his neck. It was difficult to forget what it felt like to stand at the receiving end of such a flawless Sword Art.

It made him wonder—if that was just one of them, what would the rest be like?

And on that wondering, a realization struck.

'Wait!'

He had their swords.

If he could read all the sword memories, wouldn't he be able to glimpse the Sword Arts of all the Polyphemes?

A wide grin split his face at the thought. Auren was suddenly filled with a strange, unshakable joy.

In fact, he felt like doing it now.

But even though he was a lunatic when it came to swordsmanship and Sword Arts, he still valued his life enough not to start rummaging through ancient sword memories while surrounded by deadly abominations.

He pulled back one more time and lashed his sword forward.

Behind him, Meredith and Jasper were now retreating farther away the crowd of abominations, occasionally offering support when the press grew too heavy.

Not that he needed their help…

'They don't know…'

He wasn't sure either of them truly understood the nature of his ability. To be fair, Nascent weren't supposed to have abilities in a trial at all. Their Blessings were meant to remain dormant.

Which was probably why Meredith had suffered so much pain from tapping into hers.

Auren hadn't seen the full display, but he had caught glimpses—remnants of violet flames and ice. That alone was unheard of. No one wielded both fire and ice, much less in colors that defied nature.

He was sure that once she passed the trials, the nature of her Blessing would silence entire halls and break open countless mouths. She might even become the talk of Hope Province.

'It has to be a Divine Blessing… right?'

He shook the thought away as a hard-scaled abomination lunged toward him. Auren blocked the strike with his sword, but the force of the impact still sent him flying.

He hit the black sand hard, tumbling, rolling, the bitter taste of ash scraping his tongue.

He stood up slowly, leaning on the shy blade, raising his head to see what had just struck him.

The creature looked like a living cannonball—spiked, compact, and covered in a white chitinous hide that gleamed with bloodied grime.

Auren exhaled and spat blood. Even with his armor's defense, the blow had hurt like hell. No doubt about it—it was another Catastrophe Blighted.

'Why in the hell do I keep finding myself around these spawns of rot?!'

He forced himself upright, gaze sweeping the land of waste and death around him. The abominations were no longer as focused on him as they'd been earlier. Many—though sparsely scattered—were feasting on their fallen companions, while Meredith's arrows rained down on them from time to time, swift and merciless.

Auren glanced back and realized just how far he had managed to push the line of abominations. One more step forward from here would be suicide.

It was tempting.

But for the sanity of his companions—and the hollow promise of life—it was better to pull back. Just this once.

Auren immediately stood and turned around, running as swiftly as he could. As he moved, several arrows whistled past him, striking true into the abominations that dared to follow.

Before long, he was back at the edge—just beneath the Sundered Spire, where it had all begun.

Far above, Asenya was looking down from one of the tower windows. She was distant, her form somewhat obscured by height and haze, but her colors were unmistakable… and her voice even more so.

"Good! Job! Voila!!"

"Hell, I don't even know what that means…"

She muttered to herself as she stepped back from the window, facing the piles of scattered stones on the floor with a bright expression aglow on her face.

"That brat though… I understand my case… but how the hell is he so strong…"

It ached just to think about. Still, she tossed the thought aside the moment her fingers closed around the first stone—and out of nowhere, a strange sculpting knife fell gently into her hand.

Meanwhile, Auren slumped to the ground, lying flat on his back, eyes tracing the void-stained sky above. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths. Beside him, Meredith and Jasper sat as well, both equally drained.

He asked, still catching his breath.

"How many Hearts did we manage to get?"

Jasper answered promptly.

"Ninety-eight soul hearts. Eighty-seven body hearts."

Auren frowned and lifted his head slightly.

"Why are the body hearts not up to the soul hearts?"

"It's a bit difficult to tear a heart from a creature's body when many others constantly lunging at you."

Meredith replied, her voice cold, unceremonious.

They fell into silence for a while—tired, battered, thoughtful.

Then Jasper added, almost reluctantly:

"...Is it even going to be enough? And we don't have strong ranks, per se. The strongest one here is a Moderate Blighted. Most hearts we collected are Minor Blighted."

Auren's expression darkened.

Of course, they all knew that throwing themselves at a Major Blighted was suicide—much less a Catastrophic one.

He knew it better than anyone else.

And yet…

He stood up.

Meredith and Jasper exchanged a glance before turning their eyes to him.

The charming prince's voice came out hesitantly.

"Wh–What are you doing?"

Auren didn't stop. He frowned slightly, taking slow, steady steps forward.

"What else?"

His voice was quiet but resolute.

"We need at least one more Catastrophe Blighted… to lead our army of stones."