Chapter 1: Cursed Village Part 1
“Name?”
“Marcus Vonn.”
“Age?”
“… twenty-two.”
“Citizen ID?”
“UG7L778”
“Oh, someone from the underground cities,” the bookkeeping official looked up from his table, his gaze curiously swept over Marcus. “Let me guess, here to escape your draft?”
“No?” Marcus smiled softly under the middle-aged man’s probing gaze.
“Yeah, whatever,” the government official shrugged his shoulders, dipped his hands into the cardboard box on his table, and brought out a piece of paper.
“Sign your name and drip a drop of your blood on your signature.”
Marcus took the paper from the man’s grasp and gave it a quick glance. The contents were unreadable as it was written in a language he didn’t recognize.
[You have failed to decipher ‘???’ language due to not satisfying the following conditions:]
Language Proficiency Lv 10
Wisdom: 25
Rune Mastery Lv 10
Marcus’s brows twitched as he skimmed through the wall of texts doled out by the Divine Will of the world.
Even a university graduate is underqualified to know the name of the language used to write this contract, huh?
Pushing these flitting thoughts aside, he carefully signed his name on the empty spot as pointed out by the bookkeeper. Then, he picked up a new syringe from the cup on the official’s table and punctured a small wound on his thumb. A few drops of red essence dribbled on his signature.
The bookkeeper took the form, examined it thoroughly, and only then nodded his head in acceptance. Then, with a soft exhale, he extended his index finger, which pulsed faintly with a pale silver glow, and tapped the tip of the paper.
Under Marcus’s incredulous gaze, the runes he couldn’t even decipher the name of, came to life as they danced like fireflies on a quaint night. As if guided by some extraordinary logic, those runes lined up neatly into a circular pattern before expanding outwards.
The printed form was the next thing to shine, its glow so bright that Marcus was forced to shield his eyes behind their lids. He only opened them after hearing the government employee’s declaration.
“It’s done.”
Marcus’s gaze instinctively followed the rectangular card caught between the bookkeeper’s fingers. He felt a faint connection between him and the object. It was flitting, almost illusory.
[Soul-bound Identity Card: Marcus Vonn]
So that’s why I felt a connection. It’s bound to my soul.
Marcus had read about Soul Binding at his university. It was the highest form of identification that could be issued by the Federation and was impossible to duplicate or counterfeit. Just that, he hadn’t expected the creation of such a foolproof identification would involve surprisingly such a mundane process.
It was an eye-opener for the fresh graduate.
Though it seemed as fragile as a flimsy paper cutout that might flutter away with the slightest breeze, the card surprised Marcus with its unexpected resilience. It was firm yet elastic, with a texture that felt almost like woven fiber, resisting his touch with a durability that belied its appearance.
The Divine Will was triggered when his fingers brushed against the smooth surface, relaying to him the basic information on the card.
[Soul-bound Identity Card: Marcus Vonn
Identification: Zero-Order Exorcist (Temporary)
Validity: One time use]
-~X~-
After settling the matter of his entry pass, Marcus joined twenty other people with similar temporary identifications as himself in a separate lounge.
The mood was heavy in the spacious waiting room and the grey-painted walls laden with bright red runic symbols only made it worse. The twenty other occupants wore varying expressions as they minded their own business, no one bothering to break the ice and start a conversation.
Marcus’s gaze drifted over each person in the room, lingering just long enough to commit their faces to memory without crossing into impolite territory. With each glance, he cataloged features and expressions, a habit he cultivated during his university years.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
There were fourteen men and six women, each marked by the subtle lines and hardened expressions of age. Marcus quickly noted that none appeared younger than forty. Although they were doing their best to appear nonchalant and cold, Marcus could see their veiled desperation.
Only desperados dared to try their luck in a Twisted Dream with a temporary identity. He would know, after all, he too was one such desperado.
Settling into the couch’s cushion, Marcus let out a quiet breath. Boredom edged with a tinge of nerves stirred in him, so he mentally summoned his attribute panel, letting the familiar display distract and ground him.
[Name: Marcus Vonn
Race/Age: Human/22
Authority(s): Nine Bullets
Health: 20/20
Level: 0
Strength: 1.774
Physique: 2.004
Agility: 0.769
Spirit: 1.749
Wisdom: 5
Skill(s):
Language Proficiency Lv 4; Decipher Lv 9; Number Calculations Lv 11;
Fitness Lv 3; Meditation Lv 3; Basic Survival Lv 1; Firstaid Lv 1;
Purification Ritual Lv 1; Barrier Ritual Lv 1; Firearms Lv 1]
As pitiful as ever. Marcus ridiculed himself, eyeballing the decimal digits of his physical parameters.
For an average adult, a baseline of 1 point in each attribute was standard. Marcus's own stats, however, exceeded this across the board—except for Agility. Despite the clear improvements, a feeling of dissatisfaction gnawed at him.
Four years had passed since his [Authority] awakened, yet none of his attributes had broken past five points. He felt the sting of comparison as he recalled his peers who had unlocked their [Authority] around the same time. Many of them were already preparing for the Extraordinary Exorcist layer.
There were two reasons for this, and one of them was beyond his control.
Marcus's eyes darted to the [Authority] section, and a bitter tremor crept into his lips. Half the reason he found himself here today, on the brink of throwing his life in the Twisted Dream, was tied to this cursed [Authority].
“Excuse me, everyone. May I get a few seconds of your time?”
Marcus turned his head and threw a curious glance at the man who called out for everyone’s attention. Discreetly, he clicked his tongue again. His Spirit attribute was still too low—low enough that he hadn’t even sensed someone pushing their way into the group. The reminder stung, underscoring just how far he still had to go.
With such a pitiful awareness, I’ll die within a few minutes of entering into the labyrinths. I definitely can’t agree with that bullshit conscription. Honor can suck my d**ck.
Unaware of Marcus’ mad ravings, the man in the middle gathered everyone’s attention to him.
Twenty-one pairs of eyes gave him their undivided attention.
“Let me introduce myself first, I’m Blanc Vince, an information merchant.”
His voice was soft, and his way of speaking had a magnetic charm. It successfully grabbed everyone’s attention. The gazes that carried nonchalant curiosities now portrayed interest.
Marcus narrowed his eyes. He found the profession of information merchant interesting. These people trade only knowledge related to Twisted Dreams.
He had to commend their courage if nothing else. Many Twisted Dreams were so mysterious that merely knowing about them would drive people without enough Spirit into madness. Some twisted entities spread their influence by letting others know about them. Despite such existential risks, these people still trade the forbidden knowledge.
After all, people who tread on the path of Information Merchants usually don’t have a promising career as an official Exorcist. Their attributes and resistances naturally couldn’t compare to an actual Exorcist.
From a certain angle, they were even more daring than the desperados like him.
But Cursed Village -the Twisted Dream they were about to enter- has been around for half a decade. Everything about this nightmarish reality had already been unearthed, and available to the common masses through various channels. What knowledge could an Information Merchant sell for such a well-known Twisted Dream that wasn’t already out there?
Marcus was curious. And judging from the others’ looks, they too were.
Blanc, without wasting more time, pitched his business.
“You must be curious why an information merchant appeared at the gates of a well-known Zero Order Twisted Dream. What could he possibly sell, right?” He asked, spreading his hands wide and his lips curling upwards into a smile.
A few heads nodded at the man’s question. Marcus narrowed his eyes, curiosity sparking beneath his skepticism. Where is this guy going with all this theatre?
Blanc didn’t keep him waiting for long and revealed what he had for merchandise.
“Everyone knows about the ways to clear the Cursed Village and how to trigger certain rewards. I’ll not waste your time on things you already know. What I have is a hint. And this hint might possibly lead you to get a five-star rating and obtain the Wish reward.”
A series of gasps filled the room and everyone changed their expressions. Marcus included.
Twisted Dreams were nightmare manifestations, and the possibility of one losing their life inside was as high as 70%. And yet countless Zero-Order and Official Exorcists frequent such places. Among many reasons for this behavior, the most important one was rewards.
The World’s Will bestow its blessings upon those bold enough to plunge into the shadows of these twisted realms and slay the Nightmares lurking within. Riches, power, new skills, Authorities—and, in the rarest cases, the fulfillment of a single wish.
There was a saying, that when someone enters a Twisted Dreams, they either make it big or become just another name on the casualty list.
“Information Merchant, is what you said, the truth?”
Marcus’ gaze drifted to the middle-aged woman who voiced her doubts. Dressed in standard-issue brown gear meant for trekking, she appeared low-key among the twenty temporary pass holders.
“Absolutely, ma’am,” Blanc assured, slapping his chest. “I’d not dare sell misinformation while wearing this official ID card,” he said, motioning to the card clipped to his chest pocket.
“Name your price, merchant,” she voiced.
Marcus could easily detect desperation from her. The other desperados were also swayed. After all, who would say no to a possible Wish?
Unfortunately, after buying the pistol and ammo, I’ve become destitute. Marcus shook his head and tried to forget about this tempting offer. As it stands now, he didn’t even have the capital to buy himself a full day’s meal.
He baited everything on this chance. There was no backing out now.
Despite such thoughts, he craned his neck, trying his luck at hints he might obtain.
“I don’t seek money,” Blanc shook his head. “All I ask is, you must sign a Sealed Vow with me.”
Hmm!? Marcus whipped his head, his eyes narrowed at the solemn-looking information merchant while thoughts raced fast inside his head. Now, that’s strange.