The Hand of Curse

Five lightly armed elves strode forward, their gaze sweeping over Bennett with undisguised contempt.

"Customarily, we ought to take your entire party captive, but..."

Bennett gave them a flat look.

"If just one of you makes the sacrifice, we will permit the rest to leave."

The elf spoke with the haughty magnanimity of a lord dispensing charity. Bennett's brow furrowed.

"...Excuse me?"

"I am telling you to choose one," the elf repeated smoothly. "Pick your most useless wretch, or hand over the most insolent. It makes no difference to us, so long as you surrender one body into our custody. As it happens, we have need of human hands."

This was no jest. Every face before him was dead serious.

"Do you still fail to comprehend?"

"No," Bennett replied, "I understand perfectly."

He raised Shooting Star.

BOOM!

The magazine emptied in a deafening heartbeat, and a cascade of violent explosions swept through the elf cluster. At point-blank range, it was an ambush that allowed neither evasion nor defense. The elves, who had never imagined their target would release a volley without a breath of warning, were blasted violently into the air. The point man's internal organs ruptured instantly beneath the concussive shockwave, dropping him dead on the spot.

The remaining four fared little better. Even those who avoided instant death crashed against the stone with shattered bones, utterly crippled by the blast radius.

Clack.

Swapping the magazine with practiced ease, Bennett squeezed the trigger again.

"Guh!"

"Argh...!"

Elves possessed physical capabilities far exceeding those of ordinary humans, yet even their skulls were soft and fragile between the brows. The reinforced dwarven bolts drove deep into their foreheads. For all their formidable abilities, they slumped lifelessly to the floor in pathetic succession.

One elven swordsman, showing a stubborn shred of grit, tried to push himself upright despite a grotesquely twisted arm, but—

Slash!

Kyle surged forward in an instant and took the elf's head clean off. The severed head rolled across the blood-slicked stone, frozen in a daze, as though it still could not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠comprehend the reality of its death.

Under normal circumstances, Bennett would have searched the corpses immediately for loot, but he chose to postpone the harvest.

"We deal with the rest of them first."

"Pardon?"

"They fell easily just now, but elves are naturally master hunters, mages, and swordsmen," Bennett said. "If their main force ambushes us while we're bent over looting bodies, the odds tip against us."

Kyle nodded in sober agreement.

"You're right, sir."

"So what is your plan, Bennett-nim?"

"Kill every last one of them first. We loot afterward."

Together with the party, Bennett dragged the corpses into a secluded corner. If patrols crossed their path, fresh bodies would give the game away, and there was always the risk of another scavenger party stumbling across the windfall and picking them clean.

"We're using the cloaking gear we took from the Thief Clan."

"Understood."

With a subtle shimmer, Kyle, Edgar, and Erika vanished from sight. Bennett confirmed that the gear was operating properly, then gestured for them to follow while remaining visible himself; he intended to activate his own cloaking shroud right before initiating the ambush.

Advancing past the vault where the monstrous serpent had presumably broken out, they arrived at a new chamber. Unlike the rest of the facility, this area featured an expansive, reinforced observation wall made entirely of glass. Beyond the transparent pane, the interior walls, ceiling, and floor were all coated in stark, clinical white. The remaining elves were gathered inside that very room.

Hmm?

Bennett's eyes narrowed as he peered through the glass. Sitting right in the center of that sterile white chamber was a pitch-black severed hand.

It was identical to the photograph in the classified dossier he had taken from the vault in the Life Research Lab. Seeing it in person, however, was far more disturbing than looking at a grainy image. Even across this distance, an insidious, sickening aura radiated from it, making his stomach churn.

"Ugh..."

"Stay sharp," Bennett whispered, reining in the party's rising tension while keeping his eyes fixed on the glass.

Inside the white chamber, the elves were untying a captured human scavenger and violently shoving him forward toward the black hand. Trembling from head to toe and helpless against their drawn blades, the terrified man staggered toward the center. The moment he crossed a certain threshold, his flesh blackened and warped—and he transformed into a shrieking zombie.

"Graaaagh!"

The turned man lunged frantically at the elves, only for an archer waiting on standby to plant an arrow cleanly through his skull. The corpse dropped limp to the floor.

So this is what they meant by needing human hands.

Judging by the specialized containment cases they carried, the elves were clearly trying to retrieve the relic. Whatever their underlying motive, they were using captured scavengers as disposable meat shields to gauge its lethal perimeter. In the corner of the sterile room, more than a dozen human corpses were already stacked like discarded rubbish.

Bennett felt no righteous indignation; had circumstances demanded it, he might have resorted to something similarly ruthless. But these elves were unequivocally an active threat to his party, and Bennett had always preferred to eradicate threats down to the root.

Their headcount...

Though they had eliminated five earlier, six remained inside. Among them stood the arrogant elf who had cut in line at the dungeon entrance. Presiding over the operation as their commander, he watched with folded arms and an insufferable smirk.

Bennett cataloged each elf, prioritizing targets by lethality before turning back toward his companions. Though they were cloaked, Bennett's Insight allowed him to perceive their outlines clearly.

"Listen up. Here's the plan."

"Yes, sir."

His briefing was concise. Bennett favored simple, foolproof directives over complex schemes that invited failure under pressure—instructions so straightforward that any functional mind could grasp them without issue.

"Uh, B-Bennett-nim? Could you run through that one more time?"

...Edgar, you thick-skulled bastard.

"Open your ears and focus."

Once the roles were hammered into everyone's heads, Bennett took aim through the glass with Shooting Star, lining his sights on the elven archer. While an elven bow appeared ordinary on the surface, it possessed terrifying range and kinetic force compared to conventional weaponry. Their mages were dangerous, certainly, but an elven archer capable of reflexive, instantaneous response posed the deadlier threat. Even cloaked in masterwork dwarven armor, one could not afford to take an elven arrow lightly.

Bennett's breathing slowed to a razor-thin rhythm.

Without an instant of hesitation, Bennett squeezed the trigger.

Thwip-thwip!

Bolts shattered through the reinforced glass in a spray of crystalline shards. The elven archer sensed the incoming trajectory and snapped his head around, but the bolt drilled cleanly into his temple before his hands could even touch his quiver. His eyes rolled back, his jaw dropped slack, and he collapsed in a heap. The second archer beside him reacted instantly, dropping low into a desperate crouch.

A chill grazed the crest of his scalp, but the relief lasted only a fraction of a second.

Thud.

A heavy, alien impact sank dead between his eyes. The second archer shuddered violently.

"H-how...?"

Unable to finish his dying breath, the archer pitched forward. Only then did the remaining elves realize they were under assault, scrambling frantically into defensive stances.

"Grace of the World Tree!"

CLANG!

A shimmering magical barrier flared to life, deflecting an incoming bolt into the ceiling. A fleeting look of relief crossed the elven mage's face—until a second bolt tore straight through the barrier on its heels.

CRACKLE!

The enchantment etched into the bolt detonated in a blinding flash of golden lightning. Arcs of violent current cascaded through the room like a web of wrath. Caught at ground zero, the mage and the surrounding elves shrieked as high-voltage shocks tore through their nervous systems, throwing them thrashing onto the floor.

"Aaargh!"

The mage took the direct blast to the chest and perished instantly, while the others convulsed in agony, their muscles locking up under severe burns. Bennett immediately leveled Shooting Star and emptied the magazine into the writhing figures.

Half-paralyzed by the lightning discharge, they should have been slaughtered like fish in a barrel, except—

Clang-clang-clang!

Kallion materialized like a phantom, his blade flashing in midair as it deflected the incoming bolts in a shower of sparks.

"You?!"

Recognizing Bennett's face, Kallion's aristocratic features twisted with venom.

Whoosh!

Closing the distance in the blink of an eye, Kallion slashed down with lethal fury. Bennett triggered Flash Sprint and surged backward, but the edge of the elven blade was fast enough to leave a thin line of crimson across his cheek.

"Fast on your feet, human!"

Kallion coiled to pursue Bennett, but an imposing sword strike intercepted him mid-step—an attack carrying so much weight and momentum that even Kallion dared not dismiss it.

CLASH!

Kallion was forced two steps back.

"What are you?!"

"A party member."

Kyle stood resolute between them, leveling his blade with poise before stepping forward. Gliding like water, Kyle's sword drove straight toward Kallion's heart. Stunned by the breathtaking caliber of the knightly fencing unfolding before him, Kallion parried desperately, his haughtiness replaced by frantic concentration.

Offense and defense clashed at blinding speed. Eyes wide as steel met steel, Kallion ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠poured everything into matching Kyle's blade—and in that frantic dance, he committed a fatal error.

He forgot about Bennett.

While Kyle locked Kallion's attention, Bennett ghosted behind the elf and pulled the trigger.

Thwack! Thwack-thwack!

Bolts shattered the joints of Kallion's knees and shoulders. The arrogant swordsman collapsed to the floor. Panicking, Kallion reached desperately for the ring on his finger, attempting to trigger the stored healing magic, but Bennett closed the remaining distance and swung the heavy frame of Shooting Star like an executioner's mace.

"Guh!"

Naturally, Shooting Star was suffused with psionic energy.

The moment metal met flesh, the psionic current hungrily devoured Kallion's mana like a ravenous beast. Stunned, Kallion tried to turn his head toward his assailant, but Bennett's face remained utterly calm, his eyes dead and unblinking as he hammered the crossbow downward again and again.

Smash! CRACK! Squelch!

With his skull caved in, Kallion stared blankly at the floor before slumping motionless into a pool of his own blood. A final twitch ran through his limbs, and then he went completely limp.

"Good work," Bennett said.

"Haha, not at all, sir. Thanks to you, dealing with an opponent of that caliber was effortless."

WHOOSH!

A wave of searing heat billowed from their flank. Bennett and Kyle turned to see a roaring ball of flame engulf the remaining elves who were still struggling to rise from the lightning discharge. One elf, relatively uninjured, threw himself in front of the flames to shield his kin, blunting the spell's impact, but an armored ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠giant was already barreling through the smoke.

"I HAVE ARRIVED!!!"

Edgar slammed forward with his tower shield and swung his heavy mace with savage abandon. Already battered by lightning and scorched by flame, the elves stood no chance of mounting a defense. Regardless of elven superiority, no living creature survived a crushed skull.

The remaining elves shrieked in despair as their comrades were battered to pulp—until Edgar's mace came down on them as well, snuffing out their cries and plunging their vision into eternal black.

Resting his gore-stained mace over his shoulder, Edgar marched over with his chest puffed out.

"Haha! Did you see that? Did you see how incredible I was just now?"

"...Didn't Bennett-nim basically paralyze all of them for you beforehand?" Erika remarked dryly.

"Erika-nim, that wounds me deeply!" Edgar turned to Kyle with pleading eyes, hoping his comrade would back him up, but Kyle pointedly averted his gaze. "Kyle! Are you betraying me too?!"

"To be fair, Erika-nim isn't wrong," Kyle murmured.

"Guh... Et tu, brother..."

While the vanguard squabbled, Bennett knelt beside the lone surviving prisoner. He was the sole human left alive in the room, a man in his mid-to-late thirties. The elven bindings were tough and tightly woven, but a blade coated in psionic energy sheared through them like silk.

"Thank you... thank you so much!"

Bowing repeatedly in weeping gratitude, the man suddenly turned toward the elven corpses and began kicking them with hysterical fury.

"You filthy bastards! You think you can treat us like vermin?! You goddamn sons of bitches!"

He stomped and kicked until his breath tore through his lungs in ragged gasps, finally slumping back against the wall. Catching Bennett's eye, the man ducked his head in shame.

"I... I apologize for showing you such an unsightly display."

"I understand," Bennett said calmly.

"Those monsters... they turned my entire party into zombies right in front of me. One of the kids was supposed to get married next month..." Tears welled in the man's red-rimmed eyes. "If it's not too much to ask, would you mind if I collected their keepsakes?"

"Go ahead."

The man walked over to the grim pile of corpses stacked in the corner. He knelt, gently straightening their tangled limbs one by one before retrieving the identification wristbands from their left arms.

Meanwhile, Bennett's party ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠set about looting the dead elves. Kyle and Edgar went back to retrieve the corpses they had hidden earlier, leaving the actual searching to Bennett and Erika. Stripped of their gear, the dead elves lay bare on the cold floor.

"Looking at them closely, these elves seem rather young," Erika noted thoughtfully.

"How on earth can you tell that, Erika-nim?"

"Oh, didn't you know? You can roughly estimate an elf's age by checking their body hair—underarms and the like!"

"I-is that true?" Edgar asked, blinking in genuine astonishment.

Bennett nodded in confirmation.

"Human body hair varies by individual constitution, but with elves, it's determined entirely by chronological age."

Erika offered a more detailed explanation. From birth until fifty, elves produced almost no body hair whatsoever. Between fifty and two hundred, thick hair grew across their bodies. Once they entered advanced age—between two hundred and two hundred and fifty—the hair faded to gray, thinning drastically until it grew only in sparse, brittle patches. Inspecting the underarms and lower abdomen was the most definitive method for gauging an elf's years.

"So with that in mind," Erika concluded, "aside from that pompous swordsman who led them, the rest of these were practically children."

"Oho, is that so...?"

Bennett continued sifting through their pouches—and then froze.

υѕє мє

Guided by an innate premonition, Bennett snapped his head up and looked directly at the severed black hand resting in the center of the chamber.

Is this... something like that Corrupted Religious Ruler?

"Hand of Curse? Outsider?" Bennett murmured under his breath.

Before he could fully process the text flashing before his eyes, the faint, whispering murmur surged into an overwhelming screech that rattled his very eardrums.

υѕє... мє!

A wave of goosebumps erupted across Bennett's arms.

"Everyone, fall back!"

"What? Did you say—"

"Get out of this room! Move!"

Through Insight, Bennett saw it clearly.

A terrifying miasma pouring from the Hand of Curse, expanding outward like a tide of pure corruption, steadily consuming every inch of the surrounding air.

"Get out, now! Run until you're completely clear of this laboratory!"