Chapter 47 The Shape Beneath the Curse
Darius collapsed.
The divine weapon’s pulse tore through him like lightning in his veins. He dropped hard to his knees, then fell forward, catching himself on one trembling hand. Black veins surged across his throat, arms, and chest in visible, pulsing waves. His eyes were open but unfocused, caught between consciousness and something far deeper.
Serac continued his attack without mercy, the artifact glowing brighter. "Hold him there. The collapse will finish the rest."
Veth roared and charged the Hunter again, axe swinging in wide, furious arcs. "Get away from him!"
Mara dropped beside Darius, placing both hands on his shoulders, flooding him with stabilizing plague energy. "Stay with us. Fight it. Do not let go."
Solis knelt on his other side, pouring what calm she could into the emptiness raging inside him. "Breathe. Please, Darius. Stay."
Inside Darius’s mind, the world fractured.
He saw divine laboratories, sterile halls of white stone and glowing runes. Screaming subjects strapped to tables, their bodies twisting as curses were carved into their blood. Failed bloodlines. Hundreds of them. Broken. Discarded. Dead.
And in the distance, seven distant figures watched silently. The Calamities in their original, unformed states. Waiting.
A voice spoke directly into the chaos. Calm. Ancient. Cold.
“You were never meant to live this long.”
Darius, even in the agony, did not panic. He focused on the voice instead. “Who are you?”
The voice seemed momentarily surprised. “You ask questions while your body tears itself apart. Interesting.”
Another vision flashed, a Pantheon chamber where robed figures argued over blood samples. One voice stood out: “The curse must prepare the vessel. Resistant, but controllable. He must survive them long enough to serve.”
Darius pushed through the pain. “The curse… it was never punishment. It was design. Engineered.”
“Yes,” the voice confirmed. “You were never meant to be strong. You were meant to be useful. A key. A container. A tool that could survive what others could not.”
Darius’s mental voice remained steady despite the agony ripping through him. “Why? What am I supposed to open?”
The voice did not answer immediately. Instead, more visions flooded him, failed experiments, screaming princes, bloodlines wiped out one after another until his family line remained. The last attempt.
Outside, Serac pressed his advantage. The artifact pulsed again. Darius’s body convulsed on the ground. Black veins spread further, crawling up his neck toward his face.
Veth was in a frenzy, attacking Serac with everything she had. “I will tear you apart!”
Mara kept her hands on Darius, desperately trying to contain the chaos inside him. “He is conscious. He is fighting it from within.”
Solis whispered, tears in her eyes, “The hunger… it is mixing with the others. He is carrying too much.”
Darius remained semi-conscious, trapped between the physical world and the mental storm. He spoke to the voice again. “You are part of the Pantheon. Or something older. Tell me the truth.”
The voice sounded almost amused. “You still ask questions. Most vessels break and beg. You study the cage instead.”
Darius’s mental presence sharpened. “Because if I understand the cage, I can break it properly.”
A long pause followed. The voice finally spoke again, quieter this time.
“Do you want to know why they made you resistant?”
Another pause.
“Or do you still believe you were born?”
Darius’s body jerked violently on the ground as another pulse from Serac’s artifact hit him. Blood ran freely from his nose and mouth now. His eyes were open, but distant, still fighting, still questioning, even as the three powers raged inside him.
Mara gripped him tighter. “Darius! Stay with us!”
Veth roared and swung her axe at Serac with renewed fury. “Get that thing away from him!”
Solis held Darius’s hand, trying to ease the emptiness. “Please… hold on.”
Inside the mental chaos, Darius waited for the voice’s answer, refusing to break, refusing to stop asking questions even as his body threatened to tear itself apart.
The voice whispered one final time before fading:
“You were never born to survive us, Darius Valeborn.”
“You were born to become us.”