Chapter 22: I Miss Painkillers
The sudden explosion of the Curse of the Razor Wind hit like a tidal wave.
“Gugh—!”
Kevlin clutched his chest and collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed by the intensified curse. His ears rang with a high-pitched screech—beeeep!, and his vision blurred into a sickly yellow haze. It felt like his mind had been scrambled, as if someone had jumbled up the reel of a film.
In contrast, Donecolint remained completely unaffected by the curse’s impact. Instead, the witch's necklace hanging from his neck quivered violently, absorbing the brunt of the curse on his behalf.
“Binding!”
“You wretched old man!”
Donecolint swung his staff, and a swarm of stone spikes erupted from the ground, surrounding Kevlin. The jagged stones shot upward, wrapping tightly around him with sharp, crushing force.
Kevlin could have dodged the attack easily under normal circumstances, but the mental shock from the curse slowed his reactions.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
“Guh!”
The stone spikes pierced his skin, and he staggered as dark red blood oozed from his wounds. Blood spilled from his mouth, and his face twisted in pain and fury.
But then, Kevlin's aura flared to life, enveloping his body in a radiant light. The stone spikes crumbled to dust, freeing him from the restraints. Without hesitation, he charged forward.
His blurry, fading vision locked onto Donecolint, who swiftly raised his staff in defense.
Crack!
The staff struck the ground, summoning a dark veil between the two of them.
Zzzzrrrk!
Flashes of sparks erupted over the barrier, and Kevlin’s sword moved like lightning—striking again and again, slashing at the dark veil. The barrier trembled under the force of his relentless assault.
Donecolint stood firm behind the veil, absorbing the impact in silence.
Suddenly, the sound of bells chimed softly. Donecolint's lips twisted into a smug grin.
Screeeeeech—!
The second wave of the Curse of the Razor Wind hit.
“Arghhh!”
Kevlin staggered, unable to maintain his grip on his sword. The weapon clattered to the ground as he reeled backward.
Donecolint, seizing the opportunity, swung his staff.
BOOM—!
A massive stone hand shot up from the ground and wrapped around Kevlin, squeezing him in its powerful grip.
“You filthy dog of the witches! Die!”
Donecolint’s voice echoed through the cavern as he poured all his energy into the attack. His staff quivered violently, radiating with malevolent power.
Kevlin's face twisted in agony as spikes erupted from the stone hand, puncturing his body. The crushing grip intensified, as if wringing the life out of him.
“Gaaaah! Aaghhh!”
Kevlin let out a blood-curdling scream, thrashing wildly as he summoned every ounce of aura he had left.
Normally, he could have shattered this binding spell with ease. But after exhausting himself in battle with the masked attackers—and now suffering the effects of the curse—his strength was rapidly dwindling.
Kevlin fought desperately, driven by a profound sense of impending death.
Cracks began to appear in the stone hand as his aura flared one last time.
“Urgh!”
Donecolint coughed up blood, staggering under the strain of maintaining the spell. He dissolved the dark barrier, channeling all his power into killing the mercenary.
It was a battle between life and death—Donecolint trying to crush Kevlin, and Kevlin clinging to life by sheer force of will.
And then—
Screeeeeeeeech—!
The third wave of the curse erupted.
“Grugh…!”
Blood burst from Kevlin’s eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. His aura flickered and began to fade as his body gave out under the unrelenting pressure.
Donecolint bared his teeth in a triumphant grin.
‘I’ve won!’
With the witch’s necklace, the Curse of the Razor Wind was on his side. From the start, it had been a battle he couldn't lose.
‘And now… this body will make a fine trophy.’
Kevlin’s four-star physique was a rare and valuable asset. The experiments Donecolint could conduct with it were endless.
As he admired his soon-to-be prize, reveling in his victory—
‘Eleven, twelve, thirteen…’
I was creeping up behind Donecolint, counting silently to myself.
There’s a technique called the Assassin’s Step.
It’s something I learned in Crux, a method for silently approaching sleeping targets. It’s painfully slow, but it’s unmatched in stealth.
The distance between me and Donecolint was only about ten paces.
The old man had forgotten all about me, focusing entirely on Kevlin.
He must have assumed there was no way someone like me could survive the curse.
To be fair, that was a reasonable assumption.
Even a four-star mercenary like Kevlin couldn't withstand the full brunt of the curse. A mere one-star rookie like me shouldn’t stand a chance.
‘And yet, here I am.’
If not for the strange mental barrier protecting me, I would have died a dozen times by now. But that barrier had turned what should have been certain death into an opportunity.
I raised my dagger slowly, carefully.
The watcher had bet on Donecolint’s victory. He didn’t know anything about my abilities.
But if the watcher died…
Then, it would be me versus Donecolint. And in that scenario, the odds would be in my favor—assuming, of course, that my sneak attack succeeded.
I kept counting silently in my head, waiting for the fourth wave of the curse to hit.
I’d already counted the timing several times earlier, and the previous wave confirmed my calculations.
Crunch… Crack.
Kevlin’s body began to crumble under the crushing pressure. His wide-open eyes seemed to express disbelief, as if he hadn't expected to meet his end here.
Thunk.
His head lolled to the side, lifeless.
Donecolint chuckled, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.
‘Now!’
A brilliant white glow radiated from my dagger.
“Die, you bastard!”
I lunged forward, my dagger glinting in the dim light.
My blade sliced through the air, aiming for Donecolint’s neck—but the old man reacted with inhuman speed, dodging at the last second.
“Guah! Y-You… insect…!”
“Just die already, you piece of shit!”
I pressed the attack, feeling my dagger bite into his bones. The blade tore through his neck, and blood sprayed from the wound, drenching my face.
But I didn’t stop.
I knew better than to give a sorcerer any time to recover.
I slammed my head into his with a savage headbutt.
WHAM—!
“Guhh!”
The unexpected attack caught Donecolint off guard, and he stumbled backward, his nose shattered.
With a snarl, I drove my dagger into his shoulder.
Thunk—
The blade sank deep into his flesh—just as his staff flared with ominous light.
“…Oh, shit.”
BOOOM—!
A blast of energy sent me flying across the room, slamming me into the wall.
“Guuhh…”
I doubled over, spitting bile. It felt like I'd just taken a direct punch from a heavyweight boxer. My insides churned, and my vision swam with bright yellow spots.
“I’ll kill you… you worm…!”
Donecolint staggered toward me, his face twisted in rage. He was furious—infuriated that he’d almost died to someone so insignificant.
He raised his staff, ready to finish me off—but then he froze.
His hand reached for his neck, his expression shifting to one of shock.
I grinned through the pain, though my face must have looked more like a grimace.
I held up the witch’s necklace in my hand, shaking it mockingly.
“I’ve got you now, old man.”
“…You little shit…”
“Eighteen.”
The moment I whispered the number—
Screeeeeeeech—!
The fifth wave of the curse hit.
Donecolint clutched his head, staggering as he tried to summon a defensive spell. But I was faster.
I loaded a bolt into my crossbow, channeled all my remaining energy into it, and pulled the trigger.
Thwack—!
The bolt pierced Donecolint’s neck, silencing him.
But I didn’t stop there.
Thud—! Thud—! Thud—!
I fired three more bolts into his skull, just to be sure.
Multiple bolts pierced through Donecolinth’s head.
I let out a ragged breath and collapsed onto the ground with a thud.
This should be enough, right?
“Hah... Hah…”
Biiiiiii―!
As I tried to catch my breath, the aftermath of the sixth curse swept through my body.
A pain that twisted my brain.
I grimaced, feeling the throbbing headache, and muttered under my breath.
“I miss painkillers.”
Though the pain was excruciating, a hollow laugh escaped me out of sheer relief at having survived. Still lying flat on my back, I glanced briefly at the necklace I was holding in my hand.
It was the magical artifact that had blocked the Curse of Blades.
Honestly, I had made it through this fight by pure luck.
I tried fastening the broken necklace back around my neck. But moments later, the remnants of the curse swirled and hit me one last time.
“Kuh!… It’s no good.”
It seemed the item required some kind of spiritual power to activate its magic. Since I had no knowledge of sorcery, it was essentially useless to me—though I kept it anyway.
After all, this necklace was a trophy from slaying Donecolinth, an enemy of the witches of Ordor. It would probably come in handy sooner or later.
When I tried to get back up, my body wobbled, and I struggled to find my balance.
It felt like I had fractured one of my ankles.
Limping over to the watcher’s corpse, I rummaged through his belongings. I let out a short breath when I found a red potion, drank half of it, and applied the rest to my injured ankle.
The cool sensation spread through my body, and the pain slowly began to fade.
Every time I used one of these healing potions, I couldn’t help but fantasize about bringing them into the modern world and becoming ridiculously rich.
That’s just how effective they were.
I scanned my surroundings and noticed a small bag that the sorcerer had brought with him.
After rifling through the belongings of both the watcher and the sorcerer, I crammed anything useful into the bag and rose to my feet.
The altar ahead shimmered once more with a golden light, drawing in the surrounding winds.
“I feel like I’ve aged ten years.”
The plan to pit them against each other to resolve the situation... It had been a dangerously close gamble, but it worked.
I took a deep breath, calming my nerves, and approached the altar.
Donecolinth, the original owner of these ancient runes, was dead.
And an unclaimed object belongs to whoever picks it up first.
I stared for a moment at the black ropes that coiled around the altar’s barrier. Then, without hesitation, I crossed the ropes and stepped inside the barrier.
‘Let’s see what happens.’
It was said that even Donecolinth had needed a full fortnight of preparation before he could enter this barrier. But it wasn’t as if having two weeks—or even half a year—would make a difference for me. In situations like this, brute force was my only option.
Once I was fully inside, I braced myself, waiting for the barrier’s response with a tense expression.
Was this reckless?
Just as fear began to creep in,
Flash―!
“……!”
The myriad of characters engraved on the altar erupted with light, sweeping over me.
A warm sensation gently washed over my body, as if caressing me.
The overwhelming tension that had gripped me melted away like snow under the sun, and a deep sense of peace settled in.
It felt like being embraced in my mother’s arms—a comfort so profound that I found myself wishing I could just sleep like this forever.
The entire space began to glow with golden light.
“Kuh!”
The intensity of the brilliance forced me to squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head away.
After a moment, the waves of light began to ebb.
Blinking to clear my hazy vision, I opened my eyes to a breathtaking sight.
A mystical pattern radiating golden light.
The runes spun slowly in midair, right in front of me.
‘What is this?’
In the novel, Donecolinth had been trapped in a terrifying hallucination for several days after entering the barrier.
Only after overcoming that ordeal was he recognized as the rightful master of the ancient runes and awakened to his infamous power—the “Siren’s Scream.”
It was a power that projected mental illusions, causing allies to turn on one another with swords and spears—a chaotic ability known as the “Scream of Confusion.”
But now…
‘Is this glowing rune an illusion too?’
Could it be that touching it would trigger the trial?
Fear gnawed at me, but it was too late to back out now.
I reached out and tapped the floating rune with the tip of my finger.