Dama’s footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he sprinted through what felt like an endless labyrinth of corridors. His breath came in ragged bursts, his heart pounding not just from the exertion but from the growing sense of urgency. His voice, hoarse from shouting, reverberated around him. "Giona! Where are you!?"

His mind raced as he tried to make sense of how he even got here. One second, he was in the serene, dreamlike world with Mumu and Nina by his side, and in the next, he found himself trapped in this dark, winding maze. He didn't even remember taking his eyes off Nina, it had all happened so fast.

He shook his head, pushing the confusion aside. "Focus on Giona!" he told himself, repeating her name in his head like a mantra. He could feel her presence somewhere close, yet so far away.

He could almost sense her fear, as if it were his own. And then, like a dagger to his heart, he heard her voice.

"Dama... Please... Help…" Her voice dripped with desperation, echoing through the halls.

The sound froze him in place for a split second, his chest tightening. Hearing her like this, so vulnerable and broken, was unbearable. He clenched his fist and broke into a full sprint, his feet slamming against the stone floor, pushing himself harder, faster.

"I'm coming, Giona!" he shouted, his voice hoarse but determined. He wouldn’t stop. He couldn't stop. His mind raced with the thought of her trapped somewhere in this horrible place, alone and scared. He had to find her.

The dark walls seemed to stretch endlessly, but he kept running, the weight of his promise driving him forward.

Unfortunately, after a while, Dama’s lungs began to burn with every breath, his legs screaming in protest as he dashed through the endless corridors.

He ran straight for what felt like miles, took sharp turns, and flung open door after door, only to find nothing—empty rooms that mocked his frantic search.

The desperation clawed at his insides as his heart pounded in his chest. But no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how fast he ran, Giona's voice still echoed like he hadn't made any progress.

Finally, his body gave in. With a gasp, Dama collapsed to his knees, catching himself with his left arm. Lowering down onto his elbow, he used his hand to clutch at his chest as he coughed and gasped for air, his mind spinning from the effort.

Sweat dripped from his face, soaking into his clothes as he struggled to catch his breath. He gritted his teeth, his frustration bubbling up like a storm.

“WHAT IS THIS PLACE!?” Dama shouted, his voice raw with desperation. His cry echoed back at him, bouncing off the walls of the seemingly infinite labyrinth, only adding to his sense of isolation and fading slowly into silence.

As he knelt there, panting, something stirred behind him. Light, deliberate footsteps echoing in the distance, growing closer with each passing second. His heart leaped at the thought—"Mumu? Nina?"

But as Dama turned his head, he froze. His body tensed in shock. It wasn’t Mumu, Nina, nor anyone he recognized.

Instead, several black-cloaked figures emerged from the shadows, their presence menacing, their faces hidden beneath hoods that seemed to blend with the darkness. There were no words exchanged, no sounds beyond their quiet approach. They moved with an eerie calm, their intent clear without them needing to speak.

Dama’s eyes widened, a cold sweat forming on his brow. His heart began to hammer in his chest like an engine starting up, and his mind raced. His first instinct was to run, but his legs were too weak, still trembling from exhaustion. He pushed himself upright as best as he could, his body shaking but his determination unwavering.

“Who are you?” Dama rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darting between the cloaked figures.

They said nothing, only continuing their silent approach.

Taking a step back from unease, Dama took off, keeping his gaze locked on the black hooded figures looming behind him. His breath came quick and ragged. "Something is wrong!" he thought as he lowered his head whilst running, feeling his stamina depleting far faster than it ever should.

He reminisced of the countless climbs up and down the Enohayen Mountains, the laborious errands he ran for the villagers, each trip building up his endurance. He admitted to himself he wasn’t the strongest, and his frame wasn’t built for power, but he was proud of the stamina he had earned.

Yet here, in this shadowy nightmare, it was as if all his hard-won endurance was slipping away. “It has to be this place…draining me…!” he thought, his wide eyes betraying the chilling realization.

The thought barely registered before he collided with something solid, halting his flight with bone-jarring finality. He landed hard, crashing onto his back and clutching his head in a daze. Blinking through the pain, he looked up—and his breath seized.

Standing over him was Captain Damien. Part of his cracked, pale-gray face was visible beneath his hood, but where a mouth should be, there was only a smooth, featureless void. The only sign of life came from two piercing gray lights where his eyes should have been, burning with an unnatural intensity that sent a chill down Dama’s spine.

Dama tried to scramble back, his single hand slipping on the ground, fingers thrashing for anything to grip onto. His chest heaved, but all he managed were strangled stutters.

As if responding to Dama's shock, Captain Damien’s face began to twist. A mouth emerged, grotesque and stretched impossibly wide, carving itself into his face like a wound.

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It stretched from ear to ear, jagged teeth filling the unsettling grin that seemed almost to mock Dama’s terror. Approaching closer, Damien’s voice slithered from the monstrous mouth, chillingly soft yet laced with malice. “Just what do we have here…”

Damien’s wide grin twisted with amusement as he leaned down, his shadowy presence looming over Dama like a dark cloud. “Now, now…” he sneered, voice dripping with mockery. “Aren’t you a little far from home, little one? Did you lose your mommy and daddy?”

Dama’s mouth remained shut, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He’d never felt malice like this, an evil so tangible it seemed to crawl into his very bones, sending shivers through him.

As Damien’s taunting words echoed in his ears, Dama’s mind was already racing, rejecting the sight before him. "This person can’t be human...!" he thought. No person could carry such unrelenting darkness, so palpable it almost felt alive.

With a desperate rush of adrenaline, Dama forced himself to his feet, instincts screaming to run. He turned to flee in the opposite direction, but his blood ran cold as he froze in place—the hooded figures from earlier were right there, blocking his path.

His panicked gasp barely escaped before Captain Damien’s arm shot forward, a stream of thick, clay-like substance spilling from his sleeve. The gray, viscous material shot out and coiled around Dama, pinning him with force against the cold stone wall.

"ACK!" A sharp, agonizing shout escaped Dama’s lips as he collided with the wall, the impact leaving him breathless and dizzy. His head struck the stone hard. The world tilted, a glare of light dancing before his eyes as he struggled to stay conscious.

Captain Damien’s sadistic smile returned as he observed Dama struggling, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “Now, where are your manners?” he chided in a mocking sing-song. “It’s terribly rude to ignore an adult, especially when you’re trespassing on private property. How dare you barge in without introducing yourself?” Damien leaned in, his face inches away from Dama’s, eyes burning like embers. “Now, let’s try this again. What… is… your name?”

Dama wheezed, his chest heaving as he fought to breathe, his head bowed. His mind was foggy, the pain clouding his senses. But somewhere beneath the daze and fear, a thought cut through with searing clarity.

“Giona…” he choked out, a whisper.

“What was that?” Damien tilted his head, eyes narrowing in surprise. “You’ll need to speak up, boy.” He chuckled darkly, his amusement clear. “Go on. Say it loud enough to hear.”

Gritting his teeth, Dama raised his head, a small stream of blood running down from his forehead. His gaze was hard and unwavering, a spark of defiance replacing the fear Damien had expected to see. “I...I don't know what you are, or who you are pretending to be... But you're not human...at all! You m-must be what brought me here, why!? Tell me where Giona is!” he demanded, his voice starting low and raspy, but ending high and filled with a quiet fury, despite the inkling of fear heard in the rare stutter.

For a moment, Damien’s—or rather, the thing wearing his face—grin faded, replaced by a flicker of genuine surprise. But its expression quickly darkened, and its twisted smile returned, stretching wider. Then, it started to laugh.

It continued to laugh, the sound twisted and broken, like metal scraping against stone. It quickly became distorted, rattling through the hallway, its unnatural echoes bouncing off the walls.

Dama gulped, his entire body rigid with dread as the finality of his situation began to sink in. This was it—if he were going to die here, then he wanted at least one answer.

With a surge of frustration and defiance, Dama pushed through his fear. “W-Where’s Giona? Why did you bring me here!?” he shouted, voice cracking from the strain.

The thing’s laughter fractured further, breaking down into a horrible, gurgling sound as its body began to jolt and shudder, moving in ways no human body could. Despite already suspecting it, Dama's eyes still widened at the sight, as his suspicions turned out to be way more monstrous than he believed.

With an unnatural swiftness, the creature’s head jerked up, its hood falling back. The face staring down at him was now a twisted mockery of Damien's without the gray lights in his eyes.

Instead, black sludge seeped from the empty sockets, oozing like tar down the creature’s cracked, pale skin. Its mouth stretched into a grotesque, gaping smile, black liquid seeping from the corners.

As the creature raised its other arm, Dama heard sickening cracks, like bones splintering under unbearable pressure. Then a horrible, distorted voice filled his mind, echoing as though coming from all directions at once.

The voice was not quite a whisper, not quite a shout—it felt like the hiss of something ancient, something that wanted nothing but for him to suffer.

"Why did I bring you here? You're mistaken, Dama Jinbia, you shouldn’t even be here!" The thing shouted in his head, tightening his grip on Dama, causing the boy immense pain. "Yet, here you are... To think I waited all that time for you, those creatures and that damned beastwoman to disappear for just a day!"

The thing tightened its grip even more, letting its ancient anger get the best of itself. "If it weren't for you finding her, I would have had this girl's body by now! And when I finally find my moment, you come out of no where, giving the girl hope, even though you're far away. However, all of it is for naught, as even though I don't know how you got here, this is a rather appeasing opportunity. By resonating with this girl's soul and entering her dreams, you've sealed your fate, as you have allowed me to end you myself and drown this girl in despair and hatred!"

The words slammed into his mind, twisting it with pain so intense, Dama couldn't help but to start losing consciousness.

The creature’s arm reached its apex above its head, the cloak’s sleeve sliding down to reveal skin like fractured stone, gray and splintered. From each crack, streams of clay seeped out, swirling and hardening around its arm until it morphed into a wicked, clay-bladed sword, gleaming with malicious intent.

Tears Dama didn't even know formed began streaming down his face, his vision blurred with pain and terror. In a final act of desperation, he forced himself to look up, using every ounce of his strength to ask the one question burning in his mind.

“W...What are you?” He managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

The creature’s head tilted, the twisted smile widening as it reveled in his despair. Its hollow eyes bore into him, and for a moment, all that escaped from its gaping mouth was silence—an endless, devouring void.

Then, with a chilling calmness, it whispered into his mind, its voice dripping with venom and dark satisfaction.

"What am I? I am the venom in your soul, the shadow in your heart that you mortals try so desperately to hide."

"I am every whispered resentment, every festering grudge, every wound left unhealed. I am born of your hatred… but I am not bound to you alone. I feed on all the anger, all the fear, all the agony you creatures leave behind."

“I am eternal. I am boundless. I am the curse that lies in wait, lingering in darkness until the day I drown this world in shadows. That is the will—my will—of the Witch Clan's most powerful curse: The Curse of Hatred...”

With that, it raised the sword, preparing to deliver the final, merciless blow.

Just as the weapon began to swing down though, two flashes of golden light blazed through the shadows at the end of the hallway.

Before the sword could strike, two strong, stubby arms with blue vine-like spirals shot from the darkness, catching the supposed Curse of Hatred off guard.

In an instant, the arms collided with the thing’s face and body, pushing it back with a force that sent it and the other black-cloaked figures tumbling like ragdolls.

-

Next: (Chapter 63) Mumu To The Rescue!