"Is it bragging if it's with people who wants to see you win?" —Unknown
Huffing—not because he was exhausted from killing his fellow villagers, but from the psychological stress thrust upon him—Hael turned to face the tribal orcs and ogres. These monsters stood just below the Lich, making them formidable opponents. Each group stood equal to the other, garnering titles and feats across their respective tribes. Their kin respected them and praised their tremendous strength, thus exalting them above all others.
In a crooked voice resembling that of the monsters' accent, Hael spoke to Ogrius and Tuskaar: "Be a man of your words! I killed my friends just like you wanted!"
A wide, exhilarated grin formed on their faces from the surprise Hael had for them. They did not expect him to speak their tongue, although it was barely fluent.
"Kakaka! You are an interesting fellow!" Tuskaar demonstrated his weapon mastery toward Hael, displaying his handcrafted Naga Lance, which was a versatile weapon made for spearfishing and close combat. "Indeed, we say we would let you go, but I can't decide that on my own."
He turned to glance at Ogrius, who had the same shocked expression as when Hael spoke their language.
"I admire your determination, young man, however we can't let anyone go as per his highness' command!"
Hearing Ogrius's words, Hael inadvertently bit his lip, flying into a rage.
"Then what the hell did I kill my friends for?!" He said, to which Ogrius replied with a cold and fierce look on his face.
"For entertainment."
Devastated, Hael's heart sank deep in his chest. He felt a sharp pang inside him, clutching his sullied shirt as he suppressed his anger. He felt toyed with and belittled, feeling as though he was nothing more than a bug they could trample on.
Another Grey Orc stepped in, his face full of piercings—especially on his lips. Orius bumped his knuckles together, ready to take on the job of eliminating Hael.
"He still looks like he has a fight in him. Allow me to finish him off."
But the Red Orcs did not let the Grey Ogres take in all the fun. A Red Orc emerged from behind, halting Orius in his tracks with his kris.
Seeing the weapon below his neck, Orius was agitated, clenching and gnawing his teeth as he said: "What do you think you're doing right now?! Do you want to die alongside that but?!"
"I'm sick of this..." Hael muttered to himself, staring into oblivion and not giving an ounce of care for what was transpiring in front of him. "All these kill or be killed instances! I'm sick of it! Why do us, humans, have to be always on the receiving end?! From now on, it will be kill and kill."
The rest of them burst into laughter—a total ice breaker on the monsters' end—while Hael was breaking down and changing at a rapid pace.
"Could you believe this guy?! He just said "it will be kill and kill" as if he can do something against us! BUWAHAHAHAHA!"
"Kakaka!"
Ignored and unseen, Hael stood motionless. His head was not in the present, but somewhere else, recalling the peaceful memories with the friends he had just killed. Then, something deep within him manifested, rooted in his hatred of the monsters—directly toward those who persecuted and leisurely massacred them.
All of a sudden, Orius was ticked off by an unknown sensation—a tingly feeling at the back of his head—which made him abruptly close the gap between him and Hael, who stood carelessly. He jerked his right hand, about to strike Hael down, when a flash of quick movement instantaneously cut the Grey Ogre's arm off.
Blood gushed out as Orius realized he had his arm severed, and he writhed in agony. He was unaware of what had happened, and the other monsters were alerted to what had just transpired.
"His arm suddenly got cut off?!"
"Is it that young bug?!" Ogrius immediately snatched Orius away from where he was. His gut told him that had he not pulled Orius away, he would have been a goner. His intuition was proven correct after a sudden whizzing swing of the sword rang in earshot. The blow was heavy and powerful; any of the monsters would have been sliced off if the attack had hit them.
"Get away from there, Tuskaar!" Huskaar yelled, notifying Tuskaar of the impending danger as he rushed in front of him and was struck down. "Gruh!"
His body moved on its own, shielding the attack from the unconscious yet rampaging Hael. His torso was cut diagonally, reaching from his left leg up to his right shoulder. Blood dripped vehemently from his wound while Tuskaar began spinning his Naga Lance and threw simultaneous thrusts, barely dodging the bleeding Huskaar. Two other Red Orcs stepped in, and Ogrius's group joined them. They launched an all-out attack, landing multiple grazes on Hael, but the latter was seemingly fast.
Hael got away while still unconscious. His body was stiff and his sword full of chips after guarding himself against the barrage of relentless fury from the monsters.
"Where has he gone?!"
"He has disappeared."
They clicked their tongues in disappointment. "He won't get far. We inflicted multiple injuries on him. Scatter around the vicinity and finish him off."
"I don't know what happened to him, but he has become dangerous."
Tuskaar aided Huskaar's wound, patching it up with whatever greenery he found and wrapping it with Kale leaves, eventually stopping the bleeding. The method did not put Huskaar in safety; it was only to prevent him from losing any more blood. He needed to be healed; otherwise, death was inevitable.
Meanwhile, Left and Marx continued west, avoiding pointless encounters with scouting monsters. Their priority for now was to meet with the others or to secure their safety.
"Mount Catan is a vast land of different terrains. Are you sure we will be able to find the others?" Marx's feet hurt from walking on the uneven, steep path. Bugs and insects would bite him, thus the need for organic repellents, which Left recommended. "And is there really a need to cover your whole face but your eyes and mouth with leaves?"
Left nodded enthusiastically**.** "It is... Kale leaves have antimicrobial properties and insect-repellant properties, which would be distributed to all parts of my body."
"I-I see. That's why you didn't apply any to other parts of your body. Just Kale leaves on your face."
As they were leisurely walking after scanning the area, they set up a fire just two feet deep in the ground. Nearby was a stream where Left was washing the rabbit meat he had caught on their way to the west.
"Ugh! My head!"
The exclaiming voice of someone put Left's guard up; he quickly equipped his bow and arrow and was ready to shoot. What Left witnessed was an injured man suffering from multiple wounds and the agony of a headache.
"It hurts!" He cried, to the point of hitting his head on a tree just to purposely relieve himself of the tormenting pain. "Ah!"
"Hey, what's with you?" said Left, calling out to the man. It turned out that the suffering man was Hael, who had escaped from the monsters.
Left was about to approach Hael when he noticed a creeping black ink on Hael's body. Upon seeing it, he stopped in his tracks and called for Marx.
"Come over here! I need your help!"
Marx, who was preparing the fire to cook the rabbit meat, noticed the tone in Left's voice, so he rushed over immediately. When he reached the stream, he saw Hael, who was still hitting his head on the tree.
"Wha— who is that?! And why is he headbutting the trunk?"
"Heal him right now! The 'Curse' is feeding onto his wounds!"
"A Curse?!" Hearing how dire the situation was, Marx instantly chanted and cast a healing spell upon Hael. The wounds gradually closed and the agonizing pain lessened. "There. It's done."
"Do you know any purification spell?" added Left, catching Hael in his lap. "The Curse hasn't reached his heart yet. We can still stop it!"
Despite knowing the danger of the 'Curse', Marx could not help but shake his head.
"Purification spells are out of my vocabulary. If only Narra and Kim were here, they'd be able to do something about it."
Curse manifestation is rooted in deep hatred toward something or someone. The strong and constant fury builds up and eventually activates the Curse. The most common signs are a sudden loss of consciousness and black creeping marks all over the body. It is like death crawling across your soul to find its core and destroy it.
"His condition is better than a minute ago, but the Curse is still in effect. It's only a matter of time before it crushes his heart."
No other way was possible to intervene and save Hael from death. As they saw it, dying from the Curse was inevitable. They felt helpless, but they knew they could not do anything anymore.
Hael, who was unconscious, regained his senses and clutched at his chest. His hand reached for his heart, applying pressure to his body.
"What is he doing?!" asked Marx. "I-Impossible! He is fighting the Curse!"
"I've heard of it before," began Left. "Although I haven't encountered someone, there are rumors of humans acquiring powers through their deep hatred. Upon manifestation of the Curse, they win against their fate and transform their vengeance into their own strength."
"I forgot what you call them," replied Marx, trying to recall the title for such survivors.
"They are called Incursed."
~