I Awakened A Divine Curse

Dust curled in the air as the two Cursed Creatures collided again, smashing into each other like war drums made flesh. The crab-like abomination skittered backward, dragging one pincer low and angled as if preparing for a feint. The brute snarled in response, its thick frame trembling with fury as it charged once more—each step rupturing the cracked plain beneath it.

Auren stayed still, nearly motionless. His breath was quiet. His eyes—sharp.

He was studying more than just their strength. He was mapping how the spiked brute shifted its weight before a strike… how the crab creature countered using misdirection… how pain affected their timing. And most of all, he was waiting for the exact moment when one of them slipped—when desperation bled into sloppiness.

The spiked brute slammed its forehead into the crab's carapace, a shattering crack echoing across the dunes. Chitin splintered. The crab reeled.

But instead of fleeing, it did something clever.

It let its bulk drop, crouching low—then, in a sudden jerk, it twisted and dragged its left pincer upward in a sweeping cleave.

The blade-like edge slashed deep into the brute's side, cutting through a section of the shell and exposing fibrous, twitching muscle beneath. The brute howled, staggering.

Auren's eyes narrowed.

There. That's the entry point.

And right then—the crab made a fatal mistake. It lunged to capitalize, overcommitting.

The brute, still howling in pain, responded with a brutal counter—it twisted, ignoring its wound, and crushed down with both fists. One slammed into the crab's raised claw, snapping it clean. The other drove into the crab's exposed underside with such force that the air cracked like thunder.

The crab's legs flailed once.

Then it stopped moving.

Auren rose.

The shadows slipped off him like oil evaporating under moonlight. His red cloak flared gently behind him, and the black armor across his body shimmered like old obsidian.

The spiked brute stood over its kill, panting, leaking dark fluid. The exposed flesh at its side still twitched, raw and open.

It hadn't seen him yet.

Auren didn't sprint. He walked. Slow, measured steps across the broken ground.

With [Duskbrand] perpetually active, the air around Auren shifted, dimming subtly. The boundary between his figure and the light blurred. He continued forward, coated by a strange darkness, darker than even the night shrouding the Black Desert.

Ten meters.

Nine.

The brute turned… and their eyes met.

Auren didn't speak. He simply vanished.

The brute roared, spinning around in confusion. But a beat later—an explosion of pressure burst behind its injured side.

Auren emerged mid-strike, his blade already driving into the exposed muscle. It pierced deep, dragging across ribs that shouldn't have been reachable. The brute screamed.

It swung blindly, but Auren faded again—vanishing into dusk, only to reappear above. He dropped like a hammer, feet slamming into its spine.

Another strike.

Now, that the Catastrophe Blighted was tired and wounded from its former battle, [Wane] proved to be somewhat effective, surging through his blade and sapping every vitality, unraveling the creature's rhythm, hollowing its flesh.

The brute collapsed to one knee.

Auren moved like water around it—slashing, vanishing with with his cloak and returning. He was a ghost of punishment.

And then… silence.

The creature knelt there, unmoving, its breaths shallow.

Auren stood before it, panting softly, black ichor dripping from his sword.

The brute's body finally gave in—crashing down beside its earlier kill, its blood seeping into the ground like oil into sand.

Auren straightened, his eyes cold.

Another one down.

Two Catastrophic Blighted…

A wide grin split Auren's face as he staggered slightly, his breath rasping in his throat. The dark armor cloaking his body dissolved into fading wisps, revealing the black tunic and pants he wore beneath, soaked with sweat and blood.

He exhaled deeply and crouched beside the slain abomination, letting his sleek blade vanish into nothingness. In its place, he summoned one of the Claw Twin daggers—its curved edge catching the pale light as he plunged it into the creature's carcass. With practiced motion, he carved through flesh and bone, harvesting the mundane heart and prying out the jagged soul crux embedded within.

Then, without a word, he turned and began his slow walk back to the Sundered Spire.

Jasper and Meredith had already made their ascent, their own spoils secured. From the ground, Auren could see a thick rope dangling from the Spire's open entry above, swaying gently in the wind.

"Hmm. Inventive," he muttered.

He grabbed the rope and began the climb.

By the time he reached the top, his limbs trembled faintly, but he pushed through it. He collapsed onto the Spire's floor, lying there for a few moments, letting the ache in his bones ebb. Then, with a slow groan, he sat up and moved forward into the hall.

He dropped the two blackened hearts onto the stone floor, their surfaces slick with blood. Beside them, dark-gray crystals clinked softly as they tumbled from his grip—soul cruces, still faintly pulsing.

Jasper's eyes widened.

"I thought you were going for one more…"

Auren grinned, a little too sharply.

"We got lucky. Did you carve out the heart of that winged bastard?"

Jasper nodded, then glanced toward the spiral stairwell.

"Lady Asenya seems… occupied. Told us not to come up, said she shouldn't be disturbed."

Auren gave a lazy nod.

"That's her style."

Silence fell over them, dense and quiet. The hum of the floating Spire, the distant echo of wind outside, and the faint shimmer of the soul cruces were the only things that moved.

Then Meredith stepped forward, arms folded. Her silver-gray hair glimmered under the pale glow of the Spire's light, dancing like strands of starlight.

"So…" she said, tone crisp. "Aren't you going to tell us?"

Auren raised a brow, a confused look settling on his face.

"Tell you?" he asked. "Tell you what?"

"What exactly you are. And how you're still alive. I saw that thing tear your gut apart."

Auren fell quiet.

He stared at her for a moment, blankly, as if trying to decide how much truth to share. Then, slowly, his expression relaxed. His brows lifted.

"Ohhh! That."

He scratched the back of his head.

"Well, there's nothing new, really. It's the same thing I've been telling you all along. No one just ever listens." He gave a small shrug, then added with a grin, "It's… kind of hard for me to stay dead."

He paused, then tilted his head, voice laced with teasing mischief.

"Like, I'm naturally very, very stubborn. But when it comes to dying… I'm even more stubborn."