Chapter 636: The Curse
The Price of Betrayal
Why were the Three-Eyed Imps universally despised? Besides their appearance, it was precisely this ugly greed.
In such a critical moment, they were suddenly inflating their price, demanding fifty times the initially agreed-upon amount.
Fifty thousand slave souls! How many people even lived in Dragonhold in total?
Akorn clenched his teeth in hatred, wishing he could smash these rats to death, but he couldn't. After a moment of silence, he hissed,
"Fifty thousand souls. I agree, on the condition that you capture them."
"Rest assured, City Lord, we won't disappoint you."
The Imps cackled, each producing a round disc and placing it on the ground. The discs were engraved with densely packed black runes. Just looking at them caused dizziness, as if one's soul was about to be pulled from the body and consumed by the discs.
One of the Imps took a glass vial from its robes. Inside was blood that seemed to possess life, flowing autonomously.
"Divine Blood!"
Akorn's pupils contracted in disbelief.
The Imps laughed strangely. "This is no ordinary divine blood, City Lord. It is the Source Blood of His Majesty Avogadro. Would you care for a taste?"
Akorn was shocked and terrified. He instinctively glanced around. Once certain they were alone, he roared in a low voice,
"What are you doing? Do you have a death wish?"
"Don't worry. No one knows about this except you. Of course, you can go and inform His Majesty, but I know you won't."
The Imps were supremely confident, and they were right. Akorn didn't dare to inform the Dragon; he had to keep it secret. All these years, he had been deeply involved with the Imps. They were on the same sinking ship—they might not flourish together, but they would certainly perish together.
The Imps carefully uncorked the vial and dripped Avogadro's Source Blood onto the five discs. Nourished by the blood, the discs erupted in an ominous black and red light.
Countless invisible black threads emerged from the discs. Some seeped into the earth, others flew into the sky, connecting with each other and completely encircling the surrounding area for several kilometers.
Akorn and the Imps subtly retreated, stopping only when they were clear of the black threads' reach.
Watching the soldiers fighting fiercely, the Imp's lips curved into a grin.
"Kill! Die! The more the better. If you don't die, how can I cast the curse?"
Any curse requires a price. The stronger the curse, the greater the price. The Imps knew this well, but others did not.
A strange power permeated the air, snatching away life and stripping souls.
Blood in the soil lost its luster, and corpses silently withered into dry bones. Black smoke seeped from the bodies, lingering in the air.
The soldiers didn't notice this, but Clark and the others sensed something was wrong. They couldn't pinpoint the cause, only feeling an instinctual aversion.
The more corpses there were, the denser the black fog became. By the time only about a thousand soldiers remained, the mist had coalesced, shrouding the entire space.
Akorn asked grimly, "Is it ready?"
"It is ready now."
The Imps' expressions were serious. "City Lord, those fifty thousand slaves were not wasted."
As the words fell, the five Imps cast their spell simultaneously.
The Full-Blown Curse
The black fog seemed to come alive, worming its way into the soldiers' bodies like venomous insects. Screams of agony erupted in the air.
"What is this?"
"I feel awful!"
"Itching to death! Ahhh!!"
"It hurts! Someone help me!"
The screams were continuous. Some soldiers frantically clawed at their skin, leaving bloody gashes. They became delusional, descending into madness.
The scene turned chaotic. Clark and the others were confused. The black fog wasn't attacking them, only the Dragonhold soldiers.
"A curse! Someone is casting a curse!"
The sorcerers, who were versed in dark magic, reacted first. They looked down and were completely stunned when they saw the discs in the Imps' hands.
"City Lord, is that you? Why..."
"Silence!"
Akorn roared chillingly, "The moment you joined Dragonhold, your bodies and souls belonged to His Majesty, the Great Underworld Dragon, Avogadro. Now, he requires you to offer your lives. Just obey!"
"Akorn, you bastard!"
"Ahhhh!!!!"
"I'll haunt you even as a ghost!"
The warriors who learned the truth were consumed by rage and desperation. Their faces were twisted, their eyes bloodshot. They wished they could tear Akorn to shreds. They had never imagined being betrayed by their own leader and turned into sacrifices.
The pent-up fury turned into malice. Even in death, they would find no peace.
This was exactly what the Imps needed. The stronger the resentment, the better the curse's effect. They wanted everyone to become a vengeful spirit.
Akorn, the orchestrator of all this, stood there expressionless, showing no remorse or sadness. His face was blank, as if he had done something insignificant.
The Underworld was different from Earth. There was no concept of benevolence, righteousness, integrity, or trust. To thrive here, one had to rely on the powerful and strengthen oneself, but also learn betrayal, deception, salesmanship, switching sides, rebellion, murder, and plunder.
Even doing all that didn't guarantee survival. Look at the previous City Lord—such a powerful figure, yet he ended up as Avogadro's excrement.
The reason was simple: the Great Underworld Dragon wanted to taste how clever people tasted. He asked his subjects who the smartest person in Dragonhold was. His subjects all pointed to the City Lord. So, Avogadro ate the City Lord.
Such a simple reason, so simply despairing.
Witnessing that scene, Akorn immediately swore to himself that, no matter what, he would never become Avogadro's excrement.
The situation was becoming extremely strange.
Diana asked, confused, "What are they doing?"
Clark hesitated. "Are they fighting among themselves?"
J'onn communicated with a soldier using his psychic ability. A moment later, his face changed dramatically.
"It's a curse! These soldiers were betrayed by their own leader and are being used as sacrifices to curse us!"
"Quick! We have to leave here!"
He turned to flee, but it was already too late.
The black fog had completely encircled them, not only blocking their vision and senses but also confusing their minds. The heroes' heads were ringing, their bodies were weak and sore as if they had a terrible flu, and they felt an overwhelming urge to vomit.
The curse had taken shape. After devouring the soldiers' flesh and blood, the black fog transformed into a monstrous beast, continuously eroding the trio's bodies.
Their strength was fading, fatigue was growing bit by bit, and their wills and souls were suffering immense torment.
Clark clutched his chest in pain, barely able to stand.
Among the three, he had the strongest power, speed, and defense, but the weakest magical resistance. Diana was a demigoddess; Zeus's bloodline gave her high magical resistance. J'onn was a Martian; he wasn't a conventional flesh-and-blood being and his powerful psychic abilities gave his soul far greater resilience.
The two could withstand the curse, but Clark was struggling.
"J'onn, take Clark and get him out of here! I'm going to take out those imps!"
Diana activated her teleportation ability. A red flash of light pierced the black fog, and she reappeared directly in front of Akorn.
"You're going to die!"
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