Chapter 0028: Entwined by Curses

The two latecomers groaned as they struggled up from the ground. Unlike Alice, they had rarely experienced such intense spatial teleportation; apart from the dizziness that left them reeling, their insides churned as though on the verge of vomiting. Yet their exceptional constitutions endowed them with remarkable adaptability; after only a moment of dazed immobility, they recovered.

It was clear they had been in the midst of a fierce battle before being transported, as both bore numerous wounds. At first, they gripped their weapons tightly, eyes wary and movements tense, ready for danger in this unfamiliar place. But when they saw Alice’s battered form, they exchanged a glance, disbelief flashing in their eyes. When they had first met outside and joined forces to enter the Arcane Swamp, they’d had a little contest of strength to decide the leader of their temporary party.

Though the burly swordsman and the serpent-headed man both brimmed with confidence, each had been soundly defeated by Alice’s ghostly spatial manipulation. It was no exaggeration to say Alice possessed the power to eliminate them in an instant.

Yet, to their astonishment, after a brief separation in the swamp, Alice was now so gravely wounded. In comparison, the cuts and bruises on their own bodies seemed trivial.

“Alice, who did you run into? Was it a preceptor-level sorcerer?” the burly swordsman asked, his voice cold and grim. The serpent-headed man looked on with concern, silently awaiting Alice’s answer.

“Kerry, before you worry about me, you’d better look to yourself first.” Alice had no interest in responding to the swordsman’s questions, instead focusing her attention on tending to her injuries.

Despite the severity of her wounds, Alice had shown no fear; but she was still deeply unsettled by the strange green light the Anderson Sorcerer had cast upon her. No matter how she examined herself, she could not detect any abnormality within, and so she could only attend to her other injuries first.

With a series of potions, large and small, poured down her throat, her body—which had been near collapse—at last stabilized. Only then did Alice begin to spread a foul-smelling, purplish-black ointment over her wounds.

Strangely enough, these unremarkable-looking salves—more like muck dredged from a shadowy gutter than medicine—proved astonishingly effective. No matter how severe the wound, once the ointment was applied and wiped away, fresh, pale skin appeared beneath.

After she had tended to all the cuts and gashes on her body, Alice finally turned her attention to her right eye. For ordinary mortals, the loss of an organ would be a lifelong, irreparable regret. But for apprentices who had already dabbled in the arcane and the extraordinary, such injuries were no longer unhealable.

Alice carefully pinched a peculiar, snake-like creature from a black ceramic jar, holding it by the tail as she placed it into her empty eye socket. The creature—about the size of a finger—struggled in her grasp, its petal-shaped mouth, full of tiny, vicious teeth, opening and closing as it writhed and emitted a piercing, shrill screech.

“Serpent cherry grass!” the burly swordsman exclaimed softly, clearly recognizing the creature.

“What is that?” the serpent-headed man asked, unfamiliar with the thing.

“It’s a supreme healing panacea, able to replace a lost organ. Don’t be fooled by its appearance—it’s a specially cultivated mutant plant. The base price is seventy mana crystals,” the swordsman explained, envy written all over his face.

“Seventy mana crystals?” The serpent-headed man was taken aback, instantly realizing its worth.

In their world, myriad wizarding organizations and societies flourished, each with its own system of knowledge or exchange points, often incompatible with others. To facilitate equal transactions across organizations, the special currency of mana crystals had arisen.

This was a high-magic, boundless world, saturated everywhere with magical energy. Usually, this energy was evenly dispersed, but at times or in special environments, it would gather densely, infusing certain minerals and transforming them into unique crystals. These crystals were a quick means for wizards to replenish their elemental reserves, and thus were universally prized.

Mana crystals had become a critical strategic resource in the wars of the wizarding world, and the very foundation of its value system.

The serpent-headed man couldn’t help but swallow.

Taking on such a trial mission for the Black Hand Society to which he belonged, he’d be rewarded with a mere fifteen knowledge points and thirty mana crystals if successful. Seventy mana crystals would be enough for two dangerous tasks, seven difficult ones, or thirty-five standard assignments.

So, seeing Alice use a seventy-mana-crystal serpent cherry grass without batting an eye, he couldn’t help but twitch with envy.

Despite its vicious and strange appearance, serpent cherry grass was but a mutant plant. Once placed into the empty socket, it immediately coiled itself there, its sticky, moist body splitting into countless fine tendrils like miniature snakes. These entwined and wove together, gradually forming the shape of a human eyeball.

Yet, just as the simulated eye was about to take shape, a sinister green light flickered within it. Instantly, the orderly division and growth of the serpent cherry grass spun out of control.

A writhing mass of tendrils erupted from Alice’s eye socket, some swelling rapidly until they were thicker than her arm, constantly extending outward.

After all her treatment, most of Alice’s injuries had healed, and her deceptively cute, doll-like appearance had returned.

Now, however, this adorable little girl had a monstrous, tentacled abomination sprouting from her eye socket—a sight to chill the blood of any who saw it.

The rampant growth of serpent cherry grass was fueled by Alice’s own flesh and blood.

Under the curse’s influence, her newly restored body withered at once, nearly half her flesh devoured by the expanding plant.

Acting on pure instinct, Alice summoned all her strength and tore the serpent cherry grass from her eye socket. Holding the writhing octopoid mass aloft, she ignored the blood gushing from the gaping wound and threw back her head, her hoarse voice ringing out in a guttural roar.

“I curse you… You damned bastards… I wish you all dead…”

The grotesque turn in Alice’s condition left the two male apprentices shaken to their core. They didn’t know what had happened to this little girl in the Arcane Swamp, but they could feel the depth of hatred and malice in her cry.

Such power could only be the work of a true sorcerer.

If the Anderson Sorcerer who dwelled in the swamp had shown not the slightest respect even for Alice’s mentor, Deborah, what chance did they themselves have? Anderson had personally sent them out—who could say what he might have done to them?

As dread and uncertainty gnawed at them, an alluring feminine moan echoed in their ears. Suddenly, two insubstantial, phantasmal spirits rose from the earth at their feet, shifting into forms perfectly suited to their desires, entwining themselves around their bodies.

Had they been mere spectral illusions, it might have been bearable; but as these seductive spirits wrapped tighter, their own mental energy began to ebb uncontrollably.

“Aether-succubus!” the serpent-headed man cried, panic overwhelming his voice.

These dreadful spirits fed not on lust, but on the real mental power these men had gained through meditation. For now, their reserves were sufficient to withstand the drain, but once their mental strength was exhausted, the spirits would feed on their very life force.

The serpent-headed man was the first to lose control.

With a roar, his body lengthened and grew, dark green scales spreading across his skin. In the blink of an eye, he became a raging serpent, ten meters long and as thick as a water barrel.

But no matter how he transformed, the succubus clung relentlessly to his body, siphoning his mental energy.

He thrashed, struck, coiled, and even sprayed venom at himself, but could not shake the spirit—phantasmal, untouchable, as if it existed only in his mind. Yet his mental reserves steadily drained, and his violent struggles only hastened the loss.

The burly swordsman, more cautious, didn’t try to force the succubus away. His superior constitution granted him greater magical resistance than his companion, and so, by restraining himself, he slowed the loss of energy.

Confronted with a curse from a true sorcerer, apprentice wizards like themselves had no means of dispelling it. Not daring to linger, the swordsman strode away at speed, hoping to reach his organization and seek his mentor’s aid before it was too late.

After his own futile attempts, the serpent-headed man resumed human form, and only then did the drain slow to a manageable trickle. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out a mana crystal, absorbing its power as he ran after the swordsman using only his own strength.

He’d realized that as long as he didn’t use his arcane powers, the succubus would siphon his energy more slowly; with mana crystals to replenish him, he might survive longer.

After the two men had fled, Alice crushed the deformed monstrosity in her hand with a twist of spatial force. Just as a faint stab of pain flared in her eye socket, a new tendril began to probe outward once more.

A moment ago, perhaps it had only been resentment and fury; but now, a deep, inexpressible terror welled up in Alice’s heart.

With a thunderous crack, she vanished from the spot, her figure reappearing on the distant horizon—only to disappear again in the next instant.

Her time was running out.

If this dreadful curse clung to her, no amount of flesh and blood would suffice to sate it. Only by returning swiftly to her mentor could she hope for relief from this torment.

And so, even at the cost of exhausting her own mental power, Alice strained with all her might to reach Fanny’s Cottage as soon as possible.

Soon, the little hill by the Arcane Swamp’s entrance returned to silence once more.