Lazry froze the moment he sensed another presence. It crept up on him so quietly he did not hear footsteps, breathing, or even the faint rustle of robes. When he turned his head, the shadows slid apart like curtains, revealing an old man standing a few steps behind him.
The man looked ancient. His skin was dry and thin, clinging to bone like paper. His eyebrows were long and silver, reaching past his cheekbones. His beard was more like white mist drifting down his chest. Yet despite the frail appearance, everything about him screamed danger. His eyes were the worst of all.
They were deep, dark, and sharp, like they had seen so much of the curse world that nothing in existence could surprise them anymore.
The old man lifted his chin slightly.
"I heard someone conjured the legendary nine tailed demon fox curse beast," he said, his voice loud despite its whisper-like softness. "It is you."
Lazry instinctively took a step back. "Well… yes. But I do not have it anymore."
The old man tilted his head and stared at Lazry in silence. Then he walked in slow circles around him, looking up and down with a critical gaze.
His stare was long. Too long. Lazry felt as if every part of him was being examined. The old man clicked his tongue.
"Your face is thin," he muttered. "Your posture is sloppy. Your shoulders are weak. Your eyes carry anger, but they lack depth. Your aura is inconsistent. Your breathing technique is half-baked. Your stance is not grounded. Your limbs are too stiff. And overall… you look like a malnourished deer pretending to be a wolf."
Lazry twitched. "I am not malnourished."
The old man ignored him and continued talking.
"Your skin lacks the glow of someone with strong curse mana. Your bones are not dense enough. Your meridians are slightly warped. Even your hair looks confused. And your curse mana reserves… fourth stage? At your age? Pathetic."
Lazry clenched his fists. "Are you done."
The old man stopped pacing and stood in front of him again. He exhaled through his nose.
"Yes. I see it now. That fox curse beast would have been wasted on you."
Lazry's face darkened.
"So you agree with those elders," he said coldly.
The old man gave a soft hum. "Your talent is too low for that fox. It would have died. And if you somehow kept it alive, the fox would have remained useless in you. I understand why they took it."
Lazry gritted his teeth.
"You too?" he snapped. "Fine then. All of you… every single one of you… will pay for this. I swear it."
The old man stared at him for a moment.
Then he laughed.
It was a loud, deep laugh that echoed through the whole chamber.
"Buwahaha! What an amusing child. Go back to the trial. Your words are worthless."
Before Lazry could respond, the ground beneath him twisted. A black swirling portal opened under his feet, pulling him down. He grabbed at the air, but it swallowed him in an instant.
A system window flashed in front of him.
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to use the Endless Void ability to absorb the unknown curse magic?
[ Note: You will use curse mana.]
Lazry snarled. "No."
He refused without hesitation. Using curse mana now would break his mission requirement. And breaking it would ruin his daily reward. He was not stupid enough to do that.
The portal dragged him deeper. Colors twisted around him, layers of gray swirling like a storm inside a mirror. He felt weightless and heavy at the same time.
And then, bang.
He slammed onto a cold stone floor.
Lazry groaned and pushed himself upright. When he looked around, he realized he was in a massive underground chamber, lit by faint glowing crystals. The air was heavy. Damp. Silent.
"Where am I now?" he muttered.
Another notification appeared.
[ Ding!
[ Would you like to start the mission now?
[ Note: Failure would lose the Moon Power ability. ]
Lazry blinked.
"Moon power? Endless curse mana during full moon?" He paused. And then he scoffed. "That's barely useful anyway."
He accepted it.
Immediately, he reached for his six eyed demon dog, linking his mind to it without using curse mana. The creature appeared beside him in a low crouch, growling at the shadows.
He was about to order it to blast the area when his phone suddenly rang.
He froze.
His phone? In a dungeon?
He answered. "Hello?"
A chorus of voices responded at once. And when he looked behind, he saw them.
"Young master!"
"Young master, are you alive!"
"Young master!"
"Young master Lazry!"
Lazry blinked rapidly.
"Winston? Jaro? Ren? Old man Tomas? Pip? All of you?"
"Yes, young master," Winston said in a tired voice. "I was scared, I thought you'd been sent far away…"
Lazry smiled for the first time since he fell. "Perfect timing."
He dusted off his robe.
"I want you all to protect me for twenty five minutes."
They looked at each other, confused, but nodded anyway.
Lazry accepted the mission completely.
. . .
Meanwhile, far above, the old man who pushed Lazry down floated in the air, surrounded by swirling black curse mist. His presence alone made the sky tremble slightly.
Around him, several Lycannis family elders and high elders gathered, bowing respectfully.
"Welcome back, Senior Zedra Lycannis," one elder said. "Welcome back from Curse World Sector Level Four."
Zedra waved his hand. "No need for formalities. My bones hurt enough already."
The elders chuckled awkwardly.
They began asking questions.
"Senior Zedra, what is the state of Sector Level Four now?"
"Did the Nightbound Wraith migrate?"
"What about the Abyssal Roots near the cliffs?"
"Did the Feral Curse Kings grow stronger again?"
"How many corrupted beasts did you see this time?"
"Is the curse fog denser now?"
"Did the environment warp again?"
"Any sign of the ancient curse seal breaking?"
"Are the rumors of the Mad Curse Monarch true?"
"Was the death rate still the same?"
"Did you bring anything back?"
"What happened to the cultists there?"
"Did you encounter other survivors?"
"How much has the terrain shifted?"
"What did the sky look like this time?"
"Were the storms worse?"
"How far did you explore?"
"What kind of cursed spirits appeared?"
Zedra answered every question with slow, weary patience. He described the storming valleys filled with screaming curse mist that ate flesh like acid.
He spoke of the broken mountains where curse beasts crawled out of cracks that led into the abyss. He told them how the sky turned red for three days straight and how ghostly figures wandered during the nights.
He spoke of rivers made of liquid curse mana that boiled anything living. He talked about the cultists who tried to harvest the essence of forbidden spirits and died screaming.
His explanation went on and on, painting a picture of a world filled with horror, chaos, and death. It was so long and detailed that some elders were sweating by the end.
Finally, after answering everything, Zedra said, "Now, let me ask a question."
The elders straightened up.
"Is it true," Zedra said slowly, "that someone else summoned the nine tailed demon fox… and you all gave it away because the boy who summoned it was judged too weak?"
The elders exchanged looks, then nodded.
"Yes," a high elder said. "His talent was too low. Fourth stage curse mana. He would waste the fox."
Zedra stared at them for a long moment.
Then he sighed.
"I see."
He rubbed his forehead.
"I think I made a mistake… for him… in this trial I set up."
And the elders froze, unsure whether they should panic or ask what mistake he meant.