Chapter 295 The true nature of a Curse King?
White Dragon Labyrinth Exploration Arc.
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(POV: Akashic Records)
As a Curse King, Lumiere had already made his declaration.
From his "supposed" perspective, he'd forgotten his true strength as an apostle of All-Father and a Curse King.
If someone as precious to him as Serena's life was at stake, then to make sure they never were — he had to make a statement.
And there was no better time than now to do such.
Aaron's narrowed eyes met his grotesque form, her voice slicing through the tension-filled air.
"This is the true nature of a Curse King," she spat.
Ravenna, too, was taken aback, witnessing the transformation unfolding before her eyes.
Initially, she believed Lumiere was nothing like a Curse King.
But now, now it felt like he was much worse than them.
A very small number of all existing Curse Kings could take on such an accursed form.
And yet, Lumiere had easily taken on this form.
Aaron's gaze shifted to her Holy Sword Inzuriel.
Pouring an immense wave of her mana into the sword, the corroded blade effortlessly regenerated.
It was one of the feats of Inzuriel.
It could cut through all forms of magic and as well use mana to regenerate itself, provided it could be destroyed in the first place.
Inzuriel was an absolutely powerful sword. It could withstand the mightiest magic attacks or physical attacks, but Lumiere's black matter (Eterna Noctis) was more of an anomaly. It didn't matter how dense or how "infinite" something was, it would easily consume it.
That was what it did with Aaron's sword.
"This is your end, Curse King."
Without hesitation, she lunged toward him, ready to unleash her righteous fury and destroy the "abomination" before her.
But in an instant, darkness devoured their surroundings, swallowing everything in its path. A pitch-black void enveloped Aaron, leaving her floating, caught in an abyss where sight and sensation vanished.
Panic tugged at her chest as she cried out, "What sorcery is this?!"
She was trying to do her best to keep calm, but this phenomenon was like no other.
It "felt" different.
Or rather, because there was nothing to feel, it felt different.
She frantically scanned the emptiness surrounding her, searching for any trace of her opponent.
"Is this some cheap trick of yours, Curse King? I should've known that's the best your kind can do... Nothing but cheap tricks! It won't work!" she shouted.
Her voice echoed in the "void".
But then, an ominous voice resonated through the darkness, haunting and distant.
"Trick? Oh, this is no trick," it hissed with a chilling certainty.
Desperation fueled Aaron's frustration as she futilely searched for the elusive speaker.
There was evident frustration mixed with determination in her blue eyes. It was nerve-wracking to have to fight such an elusive battle, "Come out and face me, Curse King! Is this how cowardly you truly are?"
In response, the voice dripped with taunting mockery.
"A Curse King knows no limit to his shamelessness," it sneered. "Whether the tactics are cheap or cruel, victory is all that matters. After all, one cannot fully claim the title of a Curse King without embracing their cruel nature."
"Bastard," Aaron seethed under her breath.
As Aaron's blade cut through the darkness, its pure radiance failed to illuminate the void, revealing an endless expanse that defied comprehension. The light from her sword cascaded through the empty space, but it seemed to stretch on endlessly, far beyond her sight.
Confusion washed over her as she swung her sword repeatedly, yet no matter how many times she struck, there was no end in sight.
"This can't be possible... How can there be no limit to this darkness?"
Aaron exclaimed, she herself couldn't believe it.
She desperately continued her relentless assault, slashing at the empty void that seemed to swallow her every effort.
It was as though the concept of "distance" did not exist.
But then, a horrifying sight pierced through the blackness.
A colossal demonic arm materialized before Aaron, grotesque chains and jagged red lines wrapping around its monstrous form.
It stretched towards her, ominous and menacing.
Fear gripped Aaron's heart as the demonic arm wrapped around her body, tightening its hold with bone-crushing force. Her screams echoed through the darkness, the sheer agony of her predicament reverberating in the void. In the chaos, her holy sword slipped from her hand, plummeting into the abyss, disappearing into the unknown depths.
"What's wrong, my dear?" the haunting voice taunted, dripping with sadistic delight. "Are you frightened by a mere demonic arm?" it sneered, reveling in Aaron's suffering.
There was a hint of a pun there.
Aaron was the Right Hand of the White Dragon.
And this was a demonic arm, so one would think a name so fierce wouldn't be easily frightened.
However, this was true.
Aaron wasn't frightened up until Lumiere decided to show his true colors.
Before now, she was able to easily comport herself in battle.
Summoning every ounce of her strength, Aaron channeled her inner power, infusing herself with an intense surge of chakra. With a burst of energy, she managed to break free from the demonic grip, propelling herself through the inky blackness.
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU MONSTER!!"
As she swam through the abyss, desperately seeking an exit, another demonic arm materialized, snatching her by the face without warning.
"There's no need to run. We're just having fun, aren't we?" the eerie voice whispered with a maddening tone.
Joined by the initial demonic arm, the two appendages clamped down on Aaron's legs, their grip tightening with each passing moment.
In an anguished cry, she screamed, defying the suffocating despair that was progressively consuming her to no end in sight.
"Release me!" she roared.
But the voice responded with twisted amusement, its laughter echoing through the void.
"Oh, I can grant your freedom, oh great battle god... All you need to do is beg for your life..."
An ominously cynical laugh followed.
The perverse satisfaction its voice had from making Aaron look painfully insignificant was surprising.
Aaron's persistence burned brightly within her, refusing to let the Curse King's darkness consume her. She refused to surrender her pride as a battle god, for she carried the weight of being the right hand of the Imperial White Dragon, Laura. Her loyalty to the Goddess of War, Akaza, fueled her resolve, knowing that she'd been chosen as the most capable warrior of all the other nine.
Deciding to quit here would mean she was absolute disgrace.
But more than that, it would mean she was a fraud.
With every ounce of her being, Aaron focused her chakra, a seething storm of power gathering within her.
She planned to unleash it in a burst of energy, shattering the demonic grip that held her captive.
"I command you to release me!" she bellowed.
A fury that rivaled a thousand whirling blades.
But just as she prepared to unleash her chakra, the demonic hand around her face twisted with a sickening snap, completely severing her neck.
Aaron's lifeless body fell limp in the clutches of the other arm.
Death claimed her, yet her consciousness remained, gasping for air in another area of the void.
"Wh... What just happened...?!"
As she tried to gather herself, the demonic arms reached for her once more, their shadows casting menacing tendrils across her broken form.
"No... not again!" she screamed.
Desperation flooded her very soul as she struggled against the inescapable grip.
But this time, her tormentor had other plans.
With a savage twist, the arms contorted her body like a mere piece of cloth, rending her apart in a gruesome display of blood and gore.
Aaron's agonized shrieks pierced the darkness, her pain echoing through the abyss.
A second time Aaron awoke, her eyes snapping open to discover that she had died not once, but twice already.
Confusion gripped her as she frantically searched her body, trying to understand how she was still alive.
"What... what's happening?" she struggled to say.
Before she could grasp the reality of her situation, a demonic arm sprouted from behind her, its blood-red claws slashing through the air, tearing into her skull with merciless precision. Bone shattered, flesh mangled, and screams of unspeakable horror filled the void as Aaron's head was brutally mutilated.
A third death consumed her, yet the cycle repeated once more.
The torment continued, an endless cycle of pain and despair.
Aaron's spirit was incapable of resting. This horrific nightmare she was reliving wouldn't let her.
1,456 times.
That was the number of times Aaron died.
Each death more gruesome and painful than the last.
It escalated to the level where even her soul felt like it was being tortured.
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Meanwhile,
Outside the chaotic scene that Aaron was suffering without end, Lumiere stood there with hands in pocket.
There was a bored look on his face, because he was tired.
A yawn escaped his mouth as he then said, "Come on, she should give up already... I'm almost out of mana..."
He looked to his back.
"Besides, I really need to see how the others are doing.."
He stretched his arms in a wearisome manner.
The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel