CHAPTER 184: DESTROY THE CURSED (1)

Chapter 184

The air inside the battle airships was thick with tension and complex emotions. Most of the guild members—particularly those from Elexa’s and Little One’s guilds—didn’t fully understand the bigger picture of what was going on. However, even they had learned about the dangerous serum capable of turning people into monsters: the Cursed Serum.

Thanks to their affiliations with high-ranked guilds, they had come to know that this terrifying substance was being produced by a shadowy organization known as The Cursed—a group so elusive that no one had ever discovered the location of their base. That is, until now. Somehow, one of the Tryst Guild elites had managed to uncover their whereabouts.

Despite not knowing the full scope of the enemy’s strength—how many S-rankers they might face, or how vast the enemy’s forces were—the heroes knew exactly what they were walking into: the enemy’s stronghold. And yet, none of them hesitated. None were forced to join this mission. Every person aboard these ships carried one thing in common: hatred.

They hated the vile serum that had destroyed countless lives—some of their loved ones, others complete strangers. But even greater than their hatred for the serum was their fury toward the Cursed Organization responsible for it. Their hatred might not run as deep as that of the Tryst Guild, but it was still fierce, consuming, and resolute. If there was one thing everyone aboard these ships agreed upon, it was this:

The Cursed must be eradicated. And they would be the ones to do it.

In one of the smaller battle airships, Elexa sat with her brother Balor Silverwing and the elusive Little One, discussing the upcoming battle. Truthfully, there was no way to predict how the battle would unfold. The layout of the Cursed base remained mostly unknown, and while Clara had managed to uncover the location, the details of its internal structure were vague—except for one thing: there was a massive tunnel that led deep underground.

"How do you think the battle will go?" Balor suddenly asked, turning to his sister. If there was one thing Elexa knew best, it was strategy—especially in combat.

To his dismay, she simply shook her head.

They hadn’t yet faced any of the Cursed Dark Emissaries, but what was known of them already painted a grim picture. Just two of these figures alone had slaughtered hundreds of Tryst Guild members. If not for the pre-installed defense protocols and the exceptional strength of the guild’s elite forces, they might have been annihilated outright.

And even then, those two Dark Emissaries had still managed to plunge the great city of Serenay into chaos, killing countless guild members.

Silverwing also shared his harrowing experience from his battle with Metallo. Back then, he had been pushed to the brink of death—dangerously close to dying. If not for Shae’s intervention and Mia’s powerful healing abilities, he wouldn’t have survived at all.

"So yes," he concluded grimly, "things could get extremely difficult... especially if several of those Dark Emissaries are hiding inside the Cursed base."

A heavy silence followed his words.

"I wouldn’t be worried about us, though," Elexa suddenly said, breaking the silence.

The others turned to her, confused by what she meant. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"If there’s anyone who should be worried," she continued, "it’s the Cursed."

Her voice was calm, but her conviction was absolute.

"Trust me when I say... they’re already doomed. I’ve confirmed it myself—those Tryst elites... they’re monsters in their own right."

Then her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible, yet carrying a chilling weight.

"And if, by some chance, they’re not enough... then their leader will make sure the Cursed are destroyed."

She paused, her eyes darkening.

"That man... he’s more than just a monster. He’s the devil."

Under different circumstances, the group might have laughed at such a claim. But they all knew, painfully well, that she wasn’t exaggerating. Every one of them had seen it with their own eyes—the maddened fury in Han’s face, the sheer overwhelming presence that sent shivers down their spines.

Silverwing smiled faintly, his voice quiet but firm.

"You’re right," he said. "The Cursed are doomed."

_ _ _ _ _

Meanwhile, in one of the medium-sized airships belonging to the Tryst Guild, several heroes dressed in pristine white armor—with elegant blue linings running along their suits—stood silently. Each of them wore serious expressions, their minds focused on the task ahead.

Although the airships had been traveling for nearly two days now, darkness had already fallen, and according to their estimates, they would reach the Cursed Organization’s base by daybreak. Soon, they would finally show the Cursed why the Tryst Guild should never be taken lightly.

They weren’t just planning to retaliate—they were going to deliver a full-scale assault, a bitter dose of destruction for the Cursed to choke on.

Their confidence wasn’t without cause.

Each Tryst member aboard was equipped with the newly mass-produced battle armor from the guild’s forge. Originally, there hadn’t been enough sets for everyone—but after suffering significant losses in earlier battles, the remaining members were finally given the armor. Not only did it greatly boost their defense, but it held terrifying hidden functions as well, ones they had only heard rumors of from Nathan himself.

They hadn’t tested the armor’s full potential yet—but they knew they soon would. Once they reached the Cursed base, all limits would be shattered, and they would unleash hell.

And that wasn’t all.

In addition to the armor, every member had received newly-forged power weapons. The difference between these and their previous weapons was like night and day. Combined with their upgraded gear and the presence of elite senior members on board, the guild felt more unstoppable than ever. Victory, to them, no longer felt like a possibility—it felt inevitable.

---

Inside the command room of the same ship, silence filled the space.

This was supposed to be a strategic meeting, yet no one spoke. Each person was lost in thought.

Ronan glanced around at the elite members gathered and could instantly sense the tension. Everyone was carrying different emotions.

Clara, seated near the center, wore a troubled expression. Her brows furrowed as she stared at the map in front of her. She was trying—desperately—to come up with a strategy to minimize casualties. At a battle scale this large, she knew losses were inevitable. But still, she wanted to find a way—any way—to save as many lives as possible.

If she couldn’t stop the bloodshed, then she believed it was her duty to ensure that someone lived to see the end... after the Cursed Organization had been wiped out.

Ronan’s gaze shifted to the figure across the room—Aiden, the blond-haired youth absentmindedly twirling a pen between his fingers. If anything, he looked like he was dying of boredom. It was clear he was itching for the ship to reach the Cursed base already. His patience was wearing thin.

ZOM would have taken them straight to the enemy base, but because of the enemy airships tailing them, it had to slow down occasionally—just enough to let the others catch up.

Ronan glanced across the room to where Shae, Bron, and Shin sat, each cleaning their newly issued power weapons like it was some kind of ceremony.

Shae gracefully ran a cloth across her long blue sword, the blade curling slightly at the end like a wave frozen in time. Beside her, Bron was happily whistling as he polished his pristine white gauntlets, a wide, carefree grin on his face. Honestly, Ronan could’ve sworn Bron had been cleaning those gauntlets for hours already.

His gaze moved to Shin, whose expression was as serious as ever. For a moment, Ronan almost sighed in relief—at least someone’s staying grounded, he thought.

But then his eye twitched slightly.

Because Shin... was doing the exact same thing as the others. Meticulously cleaning his bow with the intense focus of a soldier preparing for the final war. It was oddly comical—serious face, but same ritual.

Ronan shook his head and allowed himself a small smile. They were probably all far stronger than before.

The new power weapons weren’t ordinary by any stretch. First, they were all personally crafted by Nathan—that alone made them extraordinary. Second, most of them were high-tier A-Rank weapons, bordering on S-Rank. And in Shae’s case? That curved blue sword in her hands was an S-Rank weapon. With that, she was going to be a walking menace on the battlefield.

Ronan stood and made his way to the back of the ship. He stepped into the portable elevator, which hummed quietly as it ascended. A circular hatch on the top of the great airship parted open, allowing him access to the upper deck.

There, under the cold moonlight, Han sat alone—his figure bathed in silver, his expression unreadable.

Ronan watched him for a moment, a complex feeling stirring in his chest. He didn’t like seeing Han like this. There was something eerily familiar about it, something that reminded Ronan too much of himself.

Han’s probably got too much running through his mind, he thought. No doubt, all he’s thinking about is crushing the Cursed Organization.

But the truth was... everyone aboard these ships was thinking the same thing.

The Cursed must be destroyed.

Ronan stepped closer, the wind whispering faintly around them. Han didn’t move at first, still gazing out into the moonlight. His eerily calm face looked almost ethereal under the soft glow.

Then Han turned slightly and gave a small smile.

"Don’t bother," Ronan said quietly. "I can tell you don’t mean that smile."

Han’s fake smile faded as Ronan exhaled deeply.

"Do you think I made the wrong choice last time?" Han asked, his voice low. "And... do you think I’m about to make an even worse one now?"

---

To be continued.....

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