CHAPTER 282: DESTROY THE CURSED (99)

Chapter 282: Rin’s POV

Back in Serenya.

A boy walked through the ruined streets. "Busy" wasn’t the right word... no merchants calling out, no cheerful noise. The city was busy in the rawest sense: people dragging stone, rebuilding shattered walls, hammering against silence.

Rin drifted through it all, a hollow ache twisting in his chest. He didn’t even know if he felt happy or sad.... only empty. Relief sat in him like a flicker of light: his aunt had been saved, she’d recover soon. But beyond that relief, turmoil chewed at him.

Because of her.

He pushed open the infirmary doors and headed straight to Laura’s ward. Her status as the young mistress of Serenya gave her a better room than most.... well-built, polished but Rin didn’t care for any of that. He wanted one thing only.

He prayed.

Prayed the scene would finally be different.

But it wasn’t.

It was the same. Always the same. His sister lay in bed, her face pale but peaceful, chest rising and falling in that cruel rhythm like she was only asleep, like she might wake if he just waited long enough.

Rin sat beside her, fists tight. He closed his eyes, forcing himself not to break. Between the two of them, he was the boy, so he carried the burden of strength. The mask of calm. The role of protector. But inside? He bled every time he saw her motionless like this. And the healers... they gave no hope. Could be months. Could be years.

"Just wake up already," Rin whispered.

Minutes passed. His frustration grew. Why was he so weak? If only he’d awakened. If only he had power, real power, then none of this would’ve happened. He could’ve protected her. He could’ve protected Serenya. But he was nothing. Just a powerless kid.

Just thirteen.

But Rin wasn’t thinking like a child. He couldn’t. Not after everything. All he thought about was how weak he was, and how badly he needed to grow stronger.

Leaving the infirmary, he walked with heavy steps until he reached the burial grounds. Rows of stone stretched before him, each one carrying a name carved into it with grief. He stopped at one in particular.

Ron Maxswon.

His brother.

"Brother Ron..." Rin murmured, staring at the name. "I miss you."

If only he’d known. If only he’d had more time. He would’ve helped Ron finish that game he always wanted to complete. Would’ve done the things Ron had asked of him. So many promises left undone, lost forever.

Ron was gone. Dead. And the dead never came back.

Tears blurred Rin’s vision, but he wiped them away, forcing his gaze into steel. His voice cracked with a vow:

"I swear... I’ll grow stronger. I’ll make sure this never happens again. I’ll protect everyone. I promise."

He turned to leave... then froze.

A sound. Low, muffled sobbing.

In the distance, another figure knelt before a tomb. Shoulders shaking, face buried in his hands. Rin didn’t need long to recognize him.

Chip. His best friend.

Crying for his brother. Another victim of the cursed invasion.

Too many dead. Too many graves. Too much loss.

Rin closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his jaw tightened, teeth grinding. He turned on his heel and left.

Too weak. He was still way too weak to make any difference.

Maybe... maybe he should train with Kira. That girl... sharp, fiery... she’d help him grow, even if only by a little. He’d take anything. Anything to push forward. But right now, he had somewhere else to go.

If he wanted strength, he needed more than just training. He needed a weapon. A real one.

Sure, only those who awakened could truly wield a power weapon, but Rin didn’t care. Awakening had already become his number one priority, and the moment the city’s rebuilding was done, he would force it, one way or another. For now, he needed guidance. He needed Nathan.

He stepped into the forge and immediately noticed how empty it felt. Cold. Silent. Of course... almost everyone was out rebuilding the city.

"Hey, young master Rin!"

Rin turned. An older man was walking toward him, face worn with age but carrying a gentle smile. Rin bowed slightly. Titles meant nothing here, respect did.

The man’s smile warmed. "What brings you to the forge? Don’t tell me the people need more tools. We’re nearly out as it is."

Rin shook his head. "I’m here to see Uncle Nathan."

At those words, the man’s smile faltered. His expression shifted, complicated, uneasy.

"What is it?" Rin pressed, concern creeping into his voice. "Did something happen? Is Uncle Nathan sick? Did he leave?"

The man quickly shook his head. "No. Nothing like that. It’s just..." He drew in a deep breath. "Master Nathan’s been locked in one of the special forging rooms. He hasn’t left in days. He’s... consumed. Too focused. No one dares disturb him."

Rin blinked. "Days? You mean he’s been forging nonstop for days?"

Forging wasn’t a game. Rin didn’t know much about it, but he knew it demanded everything... body, mind, spirit. Exhaustion, heat, endless strain. How could Nathan survive like that? Wouldn’t it break him?

"Take me to him," Rin said.

The man hesitated, as if ready to argue. But then he looked into Rin’s stubborn eyes and sighed. "Fine. But listen carefully, once we get there, don’t do anything to break his concentration. Understand?"

Rin nodded sharply.

They walked through winding passages until they reached a door of hardened green metal. The man swung it open, and at once the heat crashed into Rin like a wave. The smell of molten steel, lava, and smoke clawed at his lungs. The rhythmic clang of hammer on metal echoed like a war drum.

There bare-chested, body dripping sweat, eyes blazing with unshakable focus.... stood Nathan. Every strike of his hammer sent sparks flying, every swing reverberating with power and madness.

Rin froze for a heartbeat. Then something broke inside him, and he couldn’t hold back.

"Uncle!"

He rushed forward and threw his arms around Nathan’s waist in a tight embrace. His small frame barely fit against the blacksmith’s body, but he clung to him with everything he had.

The man who brought Rin in groaned and covered his face with a palm. He’d warned him not to interfere. He’d told him. But Rin hadn’t listened.

And yet...

The hammer didn’t stop.

Sparks still flew. Steel still rang. Nathan’s focus didn’t waver.... not even as Rin held onto him like he was the only anchor left in a shattered world.

Rin finally let go of Nathan and turned to face him.

What he saw made his chest tighten.

Nathan’s face wasn’t his usual brotherly smile. It wasn’t even neutral. It was grim.... dead serious as if the world itself was balanced on his hammer. Sweat poured down his body, sparks flew with every strike, and yet his eyes didn’t waver. He looked like a man possessed, like the thing he was forging was the only thing in existence.

And then Rin heard it.

Muttering. Low. Rough. Almost a growl.

At first Rin thought it was gibberish. Nonsense. For a second, he even feared Nathan had gone mad. But no.... when he focused harder, the words sharpened, each one carrying weight heavy enough to crush the air.

"I must go faster... I must go faster... create it on time... no more time to waste... this feeling must not come to pass... I must create it on time... I must..."

Rin’s breath caught. They weren’t just whispers. They were vows. Chains.

Still... something was off.

Something was wrong.

"What feeling are you talking about?" Rin asked, his voice low, unsure if Nathan, locked in that trance, would even hear him.

The hammering never stopped. The words never ceased. But then, almost like a whisper dragged up from the abyss, Nathan answered:

"...A bad feeling. A very, very bad feeling."

Rin’s pulse spiked. "What do you mean? What feeling?"

"The feeling... of someone who is dead. Or about to die."

Rin’s throat tightened, his chest rising and falling in panic. "Wait... what does that mean? Who?! Who is dead... or about to die?!"

For a long moment, only the sound of hammer on metal filled the room. Sparks. Heat. The ringing of destiny. Then Nathan’s voice came, grim, heavy, final.

"It’s the young master... The young master is going to die."

---

Meanwhile... back on the Cursed Island.

The lightning bolt Han unleashed never landed.

A shadow moved, silent and absolute. A figure stepped out of the darkness itself, raised a single hand, and caught it.

Caught it.

The crackling power vanished instantly.... crushed, erased, not even a trace of energy left behind. Gone as if it never existed.

Han froze. His breath stopped in his throat. His eyes locked on the dark emissary standing before him.

And then....

[SYSTEM ALERT!]

A notification flared into view, letters etched in deep, bloody red:

DANGER. DANGER. DANGER.

Not a quest. Not even the usual survival directive the system spat out whenever it believed Han was outmatched. No mission. No objective. Just pure warning.

DANGER.

But Han wasn’t trembling because of the system.

He was trembling because of him.

That thing. That emissary.

This wasn’t human. Not anymore. Whatever it was radiated dread so sharp, so suffocating, that for the first time in his life... Han felt it.

Fear.

Deep, bone-crushing dread.

And the terrifying certainty that he was going to die.

---

TO BE CONTINUED...

AUTHOR’S NOTE

That’s the Chapter, everyone!

If you enjoyed it, don’t forget to vote with your Power Stones, drop a Golden Ticket, and leave a comment or review, it really helps the story grow and keeps me motivated to deliver more Chapters for you all.

Your support means everything, so let me know what you think:

✨ Who’s your favorite character so far?

✨ What do you think will happen next?

✨ Any wild theories? I love reading them!

Stay tuned—the next Chapter is coming soon.

– Ultra