Why did I always play by everyone’s script? I went to a school I hated, and got into a mediocre university to pursue a major I found boring, only to end up getting a job I mocked others for getting.
John dodged the deadly axe swings of the accursed, each one more than capable of instantly splitting his body clean in half.
I wasn’t unhappy with my life. It was worse than that.
Between each beat of his heart, he delivered a punch into his opponent’s body, shredding its rotten flesh, only for it to regrow nearly instantly. Its regeneration was exactly as the stranger said, truly near immortality.
There was simply nothing to it. Like a corpse, I woke up every day just so I could afford to get back to sleep in the same bed, and I was content with that for some reason.
Every exchange of blows they had left John slightly more tired, and the accursed perfectly unharmed, however, he never once lost ground or let himself be pushed back.
“Hurt.Can’t.Die.Immortal.Grace.Give.Thief.Lost.Take.Hope.” The accursed’s hoarse voice left its shrouded mouth only to escape John’s ears entirely.
As more of its attacks missed their targets, the immortal monster’s movements began to appear dull and predictable to John, whose speed was only continuing to increase as he learned to make use of his newly strengthened body.
I looked for meaning everywhere I could, but right now, I can’t even remember those feelings. Right now, I’m focused, excited, motivated…happy.
Once it realized that its attacks were unlikely to land, the accursed tried moving away from John to create distance, only for a barrage of fists to greet its veiled face every time. Eventually, it went from attacking then occasionally trying to make some distance, into fully trying to back away to get its bearings, while having its bones smashed by John’s gauntlets to no avail.
The goddess didn’t lie to me or betray me, she gave me exactly what I wanted. Meaning.
John’s face was warped into that of a madman, plastered with a wide grin and eyes seeing nothing but his opponent in front of them. One would be hard-pressed to decide who was the monster in this battle, the abomination with many souls, desperately trying to escape only to be pummeled, or the man smiling from ear to ear with a face covered in blood, unwilling to give his opponent even a second of pause.
The meaning of my life is…who cares, what matters is I kill this thing right now, level up, then kill the other one, level up again and hunt those skeletons in the ruins, level up again and again and again…
The hunger gnawing on his heart was now fully in control of John, puppeteering his body, using it as a tool while also empowering it with the courage and madness necessary to fight an opponent he would’ve otherwise run away from.
“Flame.Ice.Toss.Shard.” Upon uttering the activation words, a hail of ice fragments, warped into the form of spears appeared cloaked in a tornado of scorching flames, engulfing both John and their caster in a cyclone of sweltering heat and piercing death.
John focused all his senses on dodging the incoming projectiles, their frozen, jagged edges promising an instant death.
With dwindling time and sore muscles, he managed to break through the relentless barrage of magic and made it out of the danger zone, his body nearly breaking apart in the process.
“…hah…hah…124 seconds left…where is the old man? I need that ether blade.” Looking at the screen counting down the seconds to his death, John spoke with a voice plagued with exhaustion.
Looking at the distant ruins, now a battlefield for the stranger and his opponent, an idea popped into John’s head, one he knew would endanger both himself and the stranger greatly.
“The plan was for me to keep this one occupied while you deal with the other one…but looks like plans change, I don’t have much time left and I need that broken sword right now.”
Leveraging his superior speed, John began racing away from his own battle and making his way toward the stranger’s, the allure of power blinding him to the dangers of his folly.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The relentless assault of ice magic chased behind him, forcing him to dart in and out of the ruins of the destroyed capital, using its ancient remains as disposable shields.
“Bone.Curse.Javelin.” the numerous voices of the accursed in pursuit spoke in near unison, sending shivers down John’s back as his extremely sensitive instincts were triggered in full.
He shot his head back to see a massive spear, fashioned from what was undoubtedly some unfortunate creature's spine, racing towards his face at a blinding speed that surpassed even his own.
Even with his increased agility and the passive boost to his physical abilities at play, John still failed to fully dodge the incoming projectile, merely managing to shift the point of impact at the last second.
The spear pierced his shoulder, sending him flying to a nearby wall. impaling him on the cold, moss-covered brick.
Screams of agony left John’s mouth between bouts of heavy breathing. His body was assaulted with a sharp pain which only increased every time he attempted to free himself, leaving him nearly paralyzed.
“Catch.Trapped.Take.Grace.” The overlapping voices of the accursed pierced through John’s screams as the monster finally caught up, and just as a hunter would walk up to an insnared animal, it took its time approaching him.
John ignored the maddening pain he felt coursing through his body and tried desperately to free himself.
“Bone.Curse.Sword.” A horrible blade fashioned of broken, serrated bones, held together with hardened flesh and ligaments. An aura of decay hung to it as if it was dipped into the river Styx itself, granting the nightmarish sword the power to slay even those who regularly escape death.
“Thief.Die.” The jagged edge of the sword descended towards John’s neck, promising a painful and assured death, only to be stopped by a coiling mass of veins emerging from the dirt below. Twisting and twirling around both the accursed and its sword. Trapping it in a living cocoon.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, brat? Did you already lose your mind to the addiction? Or did ya just choose to ignore the damn plan.” The stranger’s voice entered John’s ears, sounding more like that of an angel than a man’s. one which comes offering salvation from the all-consuming hunger devouring him from the inside.
The visage of the stranger was not visible to John, but he knew he was close to his side by his voice. “help me out of this thing and give that ether thing already, I would’ve killed that thing ages ago if you had left it with me.”
The only two things on John’s mind were the paralyzing pain of the bone spear stuck in his shoulder and the unfathomable hunger for more levels, however, even such powerful drives could not hide his utter shock at seeing the state the stranger was in.
He was a bloodied mess, missing an eye and multiple limbs, his right arm and left leg replaced by crude replicas made of veins and wood, barely holding their shape as what remains of his flesh rested painfully upon them.
Upon laying eyes on his disfigured frame, only one question reverberated through John’s mind. “How did you lose?”
The stranger scoffed, his one eye staring daggers into John. “How do you think? That damn thing, I underestimated it… it's… different than the others.”
With a trembling grip, he grabbed the spear and ripped it out of John’s body as he howled with pain.
“I have no healing items left; you need to handle the pain for now. We need to get the hell out of here, I managed to slow down that monster but he’ll be here soon.”
But even as blood poured from the open wound in his shoulder, and his eyes trembled in pain, John could only think of the pleasure awaiting him once the entombed monster was dead.
“Before we do that, hand me the ether blade, I’ll finish—"
Before John could say another word, he found the stranger’s wooden hand parked on his throat, as he was suddenly pinned against the way dyed in his blood. “You idiot, are you so weak as to let the curse overtake your senses when you know we could die at any moment?”
Pain shot up John’s body once more, as his fresh wound was smashed against solid brick and stone. “Damn it you old fuck, just hand me the damn thing, you’re wasting time right now anyway.”
The stranger looked into John’s eyes but could hardly see any remnant of the man he first met not too long ago, too consumed by the curse of the goddess to even care for his own life.
“How disappointing… I was looking forward to doing this the right way, but I have no time to spare.”
The stranger’s grip tightened, sealing John’s lungs away from the precious air he so desperately needed.
“Thankfully, the grace has finished forming. If it had taken any longer—” The stranger’s words came to a screeching halt, as he suddenly saw a change in John’s expression. His eyes were no longer locked on him anymore, even when he was the one actively choking the life out of him.
“We apologize for interrupting, please do continue. Tell the one who foolishly put his faith in you of your true purpose, thief. Tell him why you even bothered with him.” The countless interweaving voices of the accursed almost froze the air around him, sending chills down the stranger’s back.
“Tell him the truth, thief. We shan’t intervene any further.”
The stranger’s grip loosened, sending a blue-faced John to the ground with a loud thud. He looked up at the stranger with hateful eyes, and hands grasping his throat in disbelief.
“Tell him about the others, thief. About those who passed through the veil before him. The victims of your goddess’s selfishness, and your depraved ambitions. Tell him, or we shall.”