I Awakened A Divine Curse

Auren walked forward, slow and deliberate, thoughts heavy on his mind.

The only real weapon he had was death.

It had already been unveiled before his comrades, that cruel trick of resurrection. But he didn't want to keep using it—didn't want to die again and again, chipping away at their sanity until they could no longer look at him the same.

Then there was Asenya.

She was sketchy as hell, unpredictable in ways that made his instincts bristle. If her true intentions ever came to light, his strange camaraderie with death might be the only weapon sharp enough to cut through her facade. He couldn't waste that card—not yet.

And then, there was pride.

Dying to a Catastrophic Blighted? It didn't sit right. Not with him. It gnawed at something buried deep in his chest… not quite his heart, but close.

Auren had been slain countless times by a Catastrophic Wretched—each time clawing his way back, thinking he'd grown stronger. And yet that damned winged abomination had humbled him with ease. Crushed every ounce of progress in a single motion.

So no—he couldn't afford pride in most things. But this? This he could afford. He would not allow himself to fall to some pathetic, pitiful death.

'Imagine dying to a Tainted…'

His lip curled downward, eyes narrowing.

'The insult!'

But still, he needed a plan—a real one. Something with structure, something that wasn't suicidal fantasy dressed up as heroism. Killing a Catastrophic Blighted was worlds apart from killing a Major Blighted. Hundreds of meters apart in raw difference—maybe more.

And even then, to kill a Major Blighted, Auren had needed to die once. Just once. That was before he died a hundred dozen times to a Catastrophic Wretched.

He stopped, letting out a slow sigh. His head dipped, and he shook it with a quiet, somber look tugging at his face.

'What a cruel fate I have…'

Right now, he had three major devoured abilities.

[Midas Touch]—completely useless against anything still breathing. Maybe it had a future, if it evolved. But for that to happen, he needed to be killed by something with a similar curse… or devour something close enough.

[Wane], was useful but against a Catastrophic Blighted, it was going brutally useless. However, it would still thrive in drawn-out battles. And if push came to shove, it was the one ability he could count on to drag the abomination down.

The last one from the Polypheme…

A watered-down fragment of the power it once used to command the dark.

Auren could manipulate darkness now… sort of. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to dim a space, to cast a shadow slightly deeper than it should be. Like a smear of dusk permanently inked across his soul.

'Now that I think about it… doesn't being branded by dusk mean I've been touched by a World Shaper? Technically?'

At the same time, he carried Dawn. Sealed inside him.

'Everybody just wants a piece of me, I guess.'

He gave a wry shrug and kept walking.

Then, he released another of his newly earned ability—[Fear Inducement].

A pulse of dread rippled outward. A tangible aura of menace spilled from him, crawling along the ruined ground like a creeping plague. The Tainted and weaker Blighted began to back away, slinking off like rats retreating from flame. Those who resisted—the rugged Minor Blighted who'd devoured too many of their own kin, and a cluster of Moderate Blighted—only snarled.

The dread had a limit. Auren had tested it already.

It didn't stretch past a ten-meter radius.

Beyond that, the abominations resumed their cannibalism, paying him no mind. But within the radius, they flinched. Hesitated. Drew back.

The rest circled, jaws snapping in fury.

Auren kept walking.

Armored in black, his sinister plating glinting faintly, a red cloak flowed behind him like liquid blood. He looked like death in motion.

A moment passed—and then, some of the Moderate Blighted broke ranks and lunged.

Auren didn't even flinch.

He reached up, gripped his cloak, and swept it over his body. Instantly, he vanished—devoured by the folds of shadow.

Meredith and Jasper stared blankly from afar.

They had watched the creatures part before Auren like he was some ancient beast. They had seen the slow crawl of monsters reverse itself. They had seen him disappear, swallowed by darkness, like a ghost.

They were stunned.

"Master Auren… is a very strong and strange person."

Jasper murmured, his voice hushed in awe.

"How did he even become this powerful? I thought our Blessings were supposed to be dormant."

Meredith's brows drew together, deep in thought.

"Perhaps… Shard abilities…"

Jasper's eyes widened slightly.

"Yes… yes, that's true."

He paused, his voice fading. And then, after a breath:

"But what did Master Auren have to kill… to gain that eerie armor shard? With abilities like those…"

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Cold.

Neither of them wanted to answer. The thought was too grim. Or maybe… they simply didn't want to know. Didn't want to peer too far into the shadows surrounding him, afraid of what might be looking back.

Auren, meanwhile…

Cursed Creatures without a leader were like rogue bandits—mindless, chaotic, and bloodthirsty. They tore into each other without pause, kinship meaningless in the face of primal hunger. Unless an Abyssal one rose among them, coordination was an illusion. Disorder reigned.

Which worked perfectly in his favor.

The abomination Auren had his eyes on was already locked in a brutal brawl with another.

It rolled forward like a spiked cannonball, its jagged form crashing into a crab-like creature with thick, camping limbs and oversized pincers. The impact sent the crab reeling, scraping back across the cracked ground in a screech of chitin.

Then the rolling creature unfurled—revealing a towering, grotesquely muscled dwarf-like form, its broad back sheathed in a dense white shell that fanned out like bone armor.

It lunged with a guttural shriek, grabbing the crab-creature in one massive hand. The crab retaliated, its pincer limb thrusting into the chitinous brute's side. But the blow met something far denser than expected. Even beneath the shell, its hide was nightmarishly tough—unyielding, like stone wrapped in sinew.

Auren crouched in the shadow of a jagged dune, just off the battlefield, hidden in a patch of dusk that seemed darker than the rest of the scorched plain.

He watched.

Every movement, every twitch, every weakness.

This was no senseless bloodbath to him. This was a lesson—an anatomy study through violence. A breakdown of form, strength, reaction, and limits.

This was strategy.

And when one of them fell…

He would be the real threat.

"I only wanted one more Catastrophic Blighted…"

Auren mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"But I guess I'll be getting two."