┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
Curse Administered.
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
Mark crumpled to the ground.
"Hah… hah… hah…"
His breaths were deep and strained; any movement caused an eruption of sharp pangs in his leg.
'I can't… move my left leg… fuck.'
The bone burned like lava—it was fractured in several places.
A chorus of shouts and commotion reverberated through the walls of his dorm room. Danger slowly smothered him.
It wouldn't be long before the Demons came for him.
Mark limped his way toward the dresser. He had one health potion stored for emergencies. It would be enough to get him through a fight or two.
Grunting through the pain, he began to rummage through the top drawer.
But then another red system prompt appeared.
┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
Curse Administered.
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
His heart sank, releasing a single shaky breath in anticipation.
…
"Nngh…!"
Blood squirted onto the wooden drawer. An invisible stake had pierced straight through his left eye.
Only half of his eyesight remained.
Mark's body tumbled to the ground, his head heavily leaning against the dresser, shaking in pain as he gripped his bleeding eye.
'Fuck… it hurts so much. Come… on!'
He ignored it—at least as much as anyone could.
A strained growl leaked through his gritted teeth; Mark pushed himself up and began rummaging through his top drawer—though still on the ground.
The clamor of various items moved by his frantic hand only hastened his fear and quickened his throbbing heartbeat.
Eventually, he managed to take hold of the potion, tightly gripping it in his quivering hand.
'Yes…!'
But as brought the cold glass vial closer, his relief was quickly stomped into the ground.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A fierce pounding of a door. His door.
'Shit, I don't have much time…'
Behind Mark's door, several Demons prepared to enter forcefully—the sharp but distance clangor of metal armor and weapons managed to enter his ears.
'Shit, shit, shit.'
Mark tremored as he popped the potion's cap.
Another System prompt appeared.
┌─────═━┈┈━═─────┐
Curse Administered.
└─────═━┈┈━═─────┘
Immediately, Mark activated Calm Mind. He didn't feel Curse's effects until a few moments later—the world had drained of color and sound.
Warm liquid flooded out of his abdomen, black stained his hand as he touched it, a jolt of pain erupting from a fresh wound.
Mark spat up grey blood. The pool from his eye, his abdomen, and now his mouth all combined into one—small, but growing slightly wider by the moment.
Despite his soothing Skill, the strain on his body was too much. His grip on the potion faltered as he instinctively reached to cover the grievous wound that appeared over his abdomen.
A few drops of the elixir spilled.
'Fuck… just drink…!'
With a soundless gulp, the strange liquid disgustingly slid down his throat.
Deactivating Calm Mind, the potion's effect kicked in immediately.
"Ahhh… fuck. Cough, cough."
His tremoring body slowly stabilized, instead being replaced with a painful writhing—a lava-like heat entered each of his afflictions like a cauterizing rod of hot iron.
Flesh began to sew itself together. Bone began to fuse. The pain was so immense that Mark could hardly think.
His nails dug into the searing hot skin of his one good leg on the ground as he grit his teeth, barely holding himself together.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
'A…. battering ram?'
His heart rate increased—antithetically to the fact that his maimed body slowly began to cool.
Mark could see it clearly from the ground. With each consecutive crushing blow of the door, the door slowly began to tear off from its metal hinges.
Each bash trickled a droplet of cold water down his spine.
Slowly rising to his feet, Mark readied himself.
His broken leg could stand weight again, though it protested. Half his vision remained impaired, but the most important fact was that he no longer bled.
Mark stared at the door, its rhythmic beating echoing like war drums.
…
Then it stopped.
Then it began once more—for good.
THUD… CRASH.
…
The heavy door fell flat on the ground, kicking up dust.
A figure stood directly behind it; dimly lit, Mark could make out a thick set of armor and two massive, sharp horns.
The demon's hand extended forward, red flame coalescing in front of his palm.
But that red flame turned white; Mark willed Calm Mind to activate.
And the world slowed.
Using the Hidden Hand, Mark channeled all of his pain and anger into a vicious, wrathly punch.
There was no feedback other than physical vibration. It was so strange.
The armored spellcaster flung backward, smashing into the hallway wall. His metal chest-piece caved inward under the brutal Hand's force.
The demon's flame shot out of his hand midair, though it missed its target, instead being swallowed up by the wooden wall behind Mark.
Watching the demon soundlessly collide with the wall was almost surreal. Calm Mind suppressed his fear—the absence of fear added to a bizarre emotional disconnect.
'There's two more straddling the doorway…'
Commotion erupted between the two remaining demons as they peered into the dorm.
It wasn't long before they acted.
One of the demons blindly tossed a strange black orb from around the corner, remaining in cover
Mark's eyes perfectly tracked the object as it soared through the air, the glossy black surface illuminated by flame.
His eyes widened.
'An explosive Item…?'
Time appeared slow as Mark acted on reflex.
He wildly pushed both palms of the Hidden Hand outward, though with precision.
The black orb slowly rolled out into the hallway after being batted out of the air.
Tik, tik, tik….
Mark dove over his bed, deactivating Calm Mind as he braced for cover.
BOOOOOM.
A massive explosion erupted in the hallway, pushing dust and debris into Mark's room. The sound of splintering shrapnel—it seemingly tore everything apart.
After the explosion subsided, Mark peered over with his one good eye. Everything seemed fine.
'I should be in the clear…'
As he stood up out of cover, his attention focused on his injured leg, which cried out in pain.
The crunching of debris; something was standing up.
His eyes returned back toward the door's direction. But with only one good eye, he wasn't all that perceptive.
A Demon.
SHING.
"Ack…!"
A sharp of ice rapidly tore through the air, piercing Mark's left shoulder and pinning him to the wall behind.
Mark pried himself free with his free hand
There was one final demon, his left arm hanging by stringy flesh. His right arm held a shortsword, rushing at Mark with great speed, though wild; the demon was half-dead.
Just before the demon could get within reach, Mark used all of his strength to grip the demon by the hips—pushing through the newly created pain in his left shoulder and arm.
Both Hands dug deep into his enemy's metal armor, his fingertips bending the metal to his will while bruising the skin underneath.
Mark extended the Hands while raising the demon into the air, who hysterically flailed at the invisible force.
"Fuck… you!"
The demon violently accelerated upwards. Mark used all of the power his body could muster.
CRACK.
The demon shot up into the ceiling, the force killing him on impact while simultaneously punching a hole through.
Horns snapped instantly, the skull caved and shattered under the pressure, the spine folded inward on itself.
As Mark limply released the Hands, the demon's lifeless body fell, crashing onto the bedframe before rolling on the floor lifelessly. The bed's wood fell under the weight.
"Hah… hah…"
What remained was a macabre sight of gore, a broken and shattered being—yet made strangely elegant by Mark's monochrome vision.