Dragged along by the old lady, Liam crossed the stream and approached a structure he hadn't noticed until now. It was an ancient tower decorated with moss and vines, clearly built for giants and stretching high into the clouds.
Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
The ground and tower quaked in sync with a beating heart that only grew louder as they approached.
Liam's eyes darted left and right, but beyond the old tower he couldn't see anything. The darkness surrounding them was fierce, stealing every drop of light from the moon.
Only the tower remained visible.
What the hell is this creature? Liam wondered.
Despite being younger and more athletic, he could barely keep up with the old lady.
Creak!
Suddenly, the doors swung open and fresh blood poured out, flowing down the staircase. Red fumes rolled outward, carrying a terrible stench. Liam instantly tore his hand free from the old woman and halted.
His expression twisted in disgust as he covered his nose with his palm.
"What are you looking at? Does the nature of your soul disgust you? Rotten and wicked..." the old lady snickered, but Liam stayed quiet.
He stared at the blood-soaked staircase just a few meters away, his eyes deep with thought.
His soul?
Of course it would be like this. His entire life from birth had been horror and torment. He never knew parental love like his peers, so how could his soul be decent?
"I understand," he muttered as he lowered his hand. The old lady nodded slowly.
With an unusually long and crooked finger, she pointed at the entrance of the tower.
"Go ahead. Claim your curse."
Huff.
With a loud exhale, Liam resumed walking. He reached the stairs and began climbing without hesitation. Behind him, the old lady giggled.
The closer he got to the doors, the blurrier his vision became. The air was thick, heavy, and toxic. The steps were so slick with blood that he moved with extreme caution.
"This..." Liam mumbled.
Despite the pressure crushing his lungs, he pushed forward. When he could no longer stay on his feet, he dropped to his knees and crawled.
Halfway up, his face was blood red and black veins bulged everywhere, ready to burst. The old lady watched closely as he kept climbing even after foam leaked from his mouth.
She giggled at the mortal's determination, following him one step at a time but never offering help.
It took several minutes, but eventually Liam dragged himself into the tower, blood flowing from his eyes, nose, and ears.
Inside was a crumbling throne room filled with black fire and blood-red light. Chains hung from the ceiling, each holding a fragment of a screaming soul. Together, they created an eerie symphony that made Liam's ears bleed.
A mirror floated before him, showing a human figure—sometimes whole, sometimes horned, sometimes featureless.
The rapid changes kept Liam guessing.
"The world is a stage of lies. Rule the truth within."
A whisper echoed from all corners of the room, but Liam was too exhausted to move, much less defend himself.
His vision flashed—
—and he found himself standing in the center of a burning city. Yet outside the flames, the people celebrated and rejoiced.
Among the crowd was a man with a torch. A crazed smile stretched across his face, his eyes distant though he walked straight toward Liam.
But that wasn't the strange part.
Behind him towered a nine-foot humanoid being with raven-black wings and long black hair covering its twisted face. Its horns curved in opposite directions. Chains bound its hands, legs, and neck, clanking with every step. In one hand it held a crimson scroll smeared with blood, whispering quietly into the man's ear.
As they drew closer, Liam tensed. He wanted to move, but his body refused. He simply stood there, motionless, as the pair approached. Oddly, both the man and the angel looked past him like he wasn't there.
Seconds later, the man walked past him.
But Liam's stomach twisted as the angel stopped beside him.
Slowly, it turned its head toward him, revealing burning crimson eyes capable of melting a man's resolve.
Yet Liam didn't feel fear. He felt pity for the fallen creature.
Bam!
The angel suddenly dropped to its knees and stretched out the hand holding the scroll.
"Take my sin. Make it yours," it whispered in a low, pleading voice.
---
Huff!
Liam's eyes snapped open as he inhaled greedily, like someone deprived of air. He lay on the bare floor, drenched in sweat, the vile smell still clinging to him.
Only after sitting up did he notice the armed SWAT officers behind Ruth, all pointing guns at him. After everything he had witnessed, the sight barely bothered him.
There was a hint of disappointment in Ruth's eyes, almost as if she wished he had been corrupted.
"Clear out and inform headquarters it was a success on this side," she said flatly.
It took a minute for the soldiers to file out, giving Liam time to process what had happened.
Sitting on a couch with a towel over his shoulders and a cup of hot chocolate in hand, he stared at the bullhead-shaped tattoo on the back of his left hand.
"I don't know what it is. It's an entirely new curse," Madam Ruth complained over the phone.
"I know… Alright."
While she spoke, Liam couldn't stop thinking about the vision. No matter how he tried, he couldn't make sense of it.
"Okay… I've been ordered to bring you in, but before that, I have a few questions," Ruth said as she ended the call.
She crossed the room and sat opposite him, pulling out a pocket journal and pen. As she approached, Liam noticed something different.
Black runes crawled across her skin like living things. A scent accompanied them—strange yet familiar. Everything about it felt natural, even though it was his first time seeing it.
Confused, Liam's eyes drifted to her hand—and the engagement ring on her finger.
She was married or at least engaged.
Liam's eyes widened as a single thought crossed his mind.
"Adultery," he whispered.
He wasn't sure how he knew, but he felt certain. That was the meaning behind the runes.
It is her sin.
His stare caught Ruth's attention.
"What?" she asked sharply.
Liam hesitated, torn between telling the truth or pretending ignorance. He had only a second to choose.
"I don't feel any different. Are all Ascendants this weak?" he lied casually.
Ruth chuckled.
People expected power to look like explosions—flashy, loud, undeniable. It was the same reason they believed Ascendants could fly or breathe fire. Reality was different.
"Ascendants are humans connected to the spirit realm. Spirit isn't loud or obnoxious. It's subtle but dangerous," Ruth explained.
"So, no giant swords, summoning krakens, creating hurricanes, or unleashing fire tornadoes?"
Ruth facepalmed, and Liam chuckled mischievously. As someone who watched the Armageddon Games religiously, he knew Ascendant power wasn't as dramatic as the rumors—he was teasing her.
His jokes only deepened her frown.
"Now's not the time for games. Ji Wei is dead," Ruth snapped, realizing Liam was messing around.
Buzz.
Liam froze, though the smile lingered on his face as he looked at her.
"What?" he blurted.
Ji Wei, their representative in the Armageddon Games, was dead. That meant the invasion of their world by creatures and angels would continue for another decade until the next game.
He expected the possibility, but the certainty still shook him. Maybe a small part of him had hoped Ji Wei would succeed.
Now the second ever wielder of the Monarch Curse in this world was gone.