Chapter 12
Cursed
The room that once shimmered with life, bubbles drifting gently in crystal-blue light, was now a decaying husk. The walls bled. Thick crimson dripped down like sweat, and pulsing veins writhed where playful bubbles once floated. At the center of the room, a battered boy lay motionless.
His blue hair, once vibrant, had faded to a lifeless gray. It looked as if even the color itself had given up on him.
Beside him sat a man.
Blood soaked his pale skin, painting his face a grotesque red. His veins slithered along the floor like worms. And yet… he looked painfully bored.
Azael slouched, resting his chin on his palm. The boy next to him was unconscious, his consciousness watching through Shiro's eyes. A floating screen hung before them, projecting Shiro's vision like a live feed.
Shiro was in a training room, gripping a katana. He looked around. Empty. No one else was there.
Azael tilted his head, disappointed. "Hmph. No girlfriend this time?"
But then something caught his attention.
Shiro was facing Luis.
Azael leaned in, eyes wide, glued to the screen. "Oho? This'll be good…"
But as the fight ended, his excitement soured.
Azael slumped back with a groan. "That's it? That's it?" His eyes rolled toward the boy lying broken beside him. "You really chose this guy?"
The boy stirred. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes. "Yeah…"
Azael blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing.
"Hah! You're both pathetic!"
He chuckled, then sighed. "Let me tell you something, kid. Back in my day? I was feared. A god of war and madness, unstoppable. But two things held me back from reaching my full power. The first was you… a rat of a child. But the other" his voice dropped, bitter "—was something else. A being. One that hated me."
His eyes darkened. "Didn't banish me though. Said I was too strong."
There was a flicker of pride in his voice. But it didn't last long.
Azael turned back to the screen and saw Shiro talking to Luis, the same person he'd just beaten.
Azael's face twisted in disgust.
"W-W-Why… WHY IS HE TALKING TO HIM?!"
The boy didn't even turn his head. "I don't know. I don't talk to him."
Azael squinted. "Wait… what? You're bound to him, right? Why don't you talk to him?"
The boy trembled, his voice cracking. "Because… when I gave myself to him, his sister said I was too weak. He was banned from using me."
Tears rolled down his bruised cheeks.
Azael's jaw dropped. Then a snort escaped him. Then laughter. Uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. He fell to the ground, pounding the floor.
"You weakling! Oh gods… I thought Shiro was a disaster, but you! You're worse than I ever imagined!"
He wiped a tear from his eye. "A disappointment picked by another disappointment. What poetic tragedy!"
But then… something changed.
Azael paused.
The room was shifting again. The blood grew darker. The once-soft blue light turned sickly, fading into deep, bloodstained hues. Azael's grin returned, wider, sharper.
"It's happening," he whispered. "The transfer's halfway done."
He turned back to the screen. Shiro was still visible. Still unaware.
Azael's face turned cold.
"Useless."
The word echoed like a curse.
He felt it. A thread connecting him to Shiro. Not just spiritually, but mentally. The curse of the mind was settling in. And Azael welcomed it.
A slow, delighted grin stretched across his face.
"Finally," he whispered. "I'm coming with you, kid."
Then he pointed at Shiro and laughed again.
"Loser!"
Watching him suffer triggered a memory.
The sky was gray.
Two figures stood on a desolate, broken landscape, both godly, both powerful.
One was wrapped in chains, pale as ash. His red eyes burned, and his long black hair twisted in the air like it had a life of its own. His face was cracked by a manic grin.
The other stood tall, composed. Brown, silky hair. Green eyes deep as forests.
Kairon.
He sighed, disappointed. "You know you're going to be punished, right?"
Azael scratched his arms violently, twitching like a man on the edge. "So what? I'm already insane. I don't care."
Kairon shook his head, saddened. "You'll fall, Azael. Sooner than you think. You've killed too many gods."
Azael scoffed. "They fell to me. That's all that matters."
Kairon's voice turned sharp. "You killed billions of mortals! Remember Lancer? When you fought him, you destroyed the entire Earth! Split a damn universe in half just to win!"
Kairon's voice trembled with frustration. "You throw tantrums across dimensions, gambling your sanity away and dragging others down with you! You're lucky The Observer hasn't looked into it yet. One glance, and you're gone."
Azael waved him off, smirking. "So what? I'm one of his chosen. The Obser—"
But before he could finish, Kairon slapped a hand over his mouth.
Kairon's face turned pale.
"…He's coming."
And then, everything shifted.
Far beyond the reach of mortal sight, yet utterly undeniable, the presence emerged.
The Observer.
You couldn't see it. Not fully. But you felt it. Like the very fabric of existence bending around a point in space that shouldn't exist.
Azael's body froze.
Eyes, countless eyes, were upon him.
Watching.
Peering into his soul, his thoughts, his cells, his being.
Blood ran from his eyes. Sweat poured from his brow.
He was nothing before The Observer. A leaf before a storm. A dog in front of its master.
And then he felt it.
A searing pain on his wrist.
A black mark, etching itself into his skin.
He knew the curse. The knowledge was implanted directly into his mind.
His blood ran cold.
This is to limit your mentality…You were never sane.Now, you will never be dangerous again.
His mouth trembled. Am I truly broken?Was I always this close to losing it?
For once… Azael felt fear.
Back in the decaying room of the inner realm, Azael stared at the broken boy, laughing, but it was hollow. Tears brimmed in his eyes.
"Well, look at me now! From divine warlord to this... stuck with a kid who couldn't even pass a basic test. Can you believe it?" He shook his head, almost smiling. "Man, I used to be on his level…"
The boy blinked.
"…What are you talking about?"
Azael turned toward him.
"Oh. Right."
He hadn't said anything out loud.