Shattering the Curse

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The malevolent aura surging from the Hand of Curse spread outward, greedily encroaching upon the surrounding air.

Bennett shouted without looking back.

"Get out of here, now! Don't stop until you're clear of the laboratory!"

"Move, everyone!"

Kyle moved instantly, rounding up Edgar, Erika, and the rescued scavenger.

"W-Wait! Bennett-nim is still— Bennett-nim!"

"Trust him!" Kyle barked, hoisting Erika onto his shoulders as he broke into a sprint. "He has a reason for staying behind!"

The swordsman's figure blurred into the distance, carrying Erika away. Only then did Bennett turn his full attention to the abomination before him.

The boundary—or rather, the territory—of the Hand of Curse was expanding at a terrifying velocity, rolling forward like an encroaching tide. Even the system prompt offering the destruction quest warped and twisted under the pressure of that aura. No, his very field of vision seemed to bend and distort.

An Outsider.

It was an unfamiliar designation, yet Bennett understood its profound weight in an instant.

Something born beyond the borders of this world.

And to fight such a thing, ordinary means were utterly useless. What he needed was—

Crackle!

His psionic energy.

ωнαт

The surging mist of anomalous force abruptly hesitated as it reached him. It hovered for a fraction of a second, testing the waters, before tentatively brushing against his skin.

fυ¢к

The moment it made contact, the psionic energy dwelling within Bennett's body consumed and erased the foul presence without leaving so much as a trace.

Drawing his steel baton instead of Shooting Star, Bennett took a measured step forward.

Did the entity discern his lethal intent? The unstable aura shuddered violently, then exploded outward with redoubled fury.

нσω ∂αяє уσυ

Any sign of hesitation vanished. The Hand of Curse unleashed unseen, intangible tendrils that swept across the chamber, grasping at him from every angle.

Yet the harder it pushed, the more Bennett's psionic reserve swelled.

Fifty paces.

The lethal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠threshold where ordinary men were instantly turned into walking corpses came and went, but Bennett felt nothing more than a dull pressure.

Sixty paces.

Seventy paces.

Eighty paces.

His skin grayed and dried out for a split second, only for fresh color to flood back in immediately.

Ninety paces.

Snap!

His left eye rolled upward into its socket, the sclera turning black, before snapping back into place under the surge of his restorative power.

One hundred paces.

Having crossed the final threshold, Bennett stood directly before the Hand of Curse. He raised the baton high.

Crack!

At a glance, the anomaly resembled human flesh and sinew, but striking it felt like hitting solid alloy. At least, that was the impression left on the one swinging the weapon. The hand was astonishingly dense, and with every impact, a faint yet punishing shockwave rippled back through the air.

It was not merely a shock that numbed his grip; the kinetic backlash was sharp enough to slice straight through unprotected flesh.

Slice.

The parts shielded by his light armor held, but exposed areas—his cheek, the skin along his forearms—split open into shallow cuts.

While not instantaneous, the wounds stitched themselves closed at a visible rate. After landing several testing blows on the metallic limb, Bennett reached an immediate conclusion.

One strike.

He had to shatter it completely with a single, all-out blow.

Opening his eyes wide, Bennett hoisted the baton once more. He had commanded portions of his psionic power before, but he had never attempted to mobilize every drop of it at once. Even so, it was not difficult. Psionic energy was an intensely intuitive power, answering his intent like an extension of his own nerves.

Sssshhh—!

Drawing upon every ember of psionic power within his body triggered a fleeting, sickening wave of vertigo. Gritting his teeth, Bennett forced his consciousness to hold firm and brought the baton down with all the strength in his frame.

ѕтσρ! ∂σ иσт...!

Bennett grasped the desperate scream echoing in his mind and muttered coldly,

"Nothing is impossible."

CRUNCH!

The dense reservoir of psionic energy coating the baton poured directly into the Hand of Curse like water down an open drain.

иσσσσσσ

A blinding flash erupted from the core of the black hand. Bennett hurled himself backward just as the anomaly exploded in a cataclysmic burst of light.

Through the heightened clarity of his Insight, the phenomenon was unmistakable: the oppressive miasma that had blanketed the entire chamber was evaporating into nothingness. The subterranean facility groaned in protest, deep fractures snaking across the ceiling and reinforced walls as if the entire level were about to collapse.

Rumble!

A delayed shockwave slammed into Bennett's chest. He tried to drop his center of gravity to brace against it, but having drained his psionic reserves dry in that final blow, his strength failed him. He was thrown backward and skidded across the concrete floor.

In that instant, a dense, overwhelming euphoria washed over Bennett such as he had never felt before.

It was a sensation far sharper and more intoxicating than any physical pleasure he had ever known. Overwhelmed by the rush coursing through his meridians, Bennett lay flat on his back, staring up at the cracking ceiling.

"Bennett-nim! Bennett-nim!"

After catching his breath on the cold floor, Bennett pushed himself upright. The party members he had ordered to evacuate were sprinting back into the chamber.

Kyle, who had been scanning the perimeter with his sword raised, caught sight of Bennett and visibly brightened.

"Are you unhurt, sir?"

"I'm fine."

"Thank the heavens..." Kyle exhaled, lowering his guard.

"What in the world happened here?" Edgar asked, stepping forward to voice the question written across every face.

Bennett offered a brief, measured summary.

"You remember that black hand from earlier?"

"Of course," Edgar replied. "It gave off the most foul, sickening chill... Wait, it's completely gone."

"It looked ready to go out of control, so I destroyed it."

"That was the relic responsible for turning people into zombies, wasn't it?"

Bennett nodded once.

"Regardless, it's a relief you made it out unscathed," Kyle said, a shiver running down his spine. "I didn't realize it at first, but once we cleared the blast radius, the sheer pressure from that thing was horrifying."

"Let's finish looting the area first," Bennett said, changing the subject.

"Bennett-nim, we can handle the rest," Kyle urged gently. "You look completely spent. It would be best if you rested."

"It's not that severe."

While he was undeniably more exhausted than usual, he had Regeneration working under the surface. His stamina was already returning to a functional baseline. Brushing past his companions' protests, Bennett began checking the bodies of the fallen elves.

Since they had already searched most of the corpses before the confrontation, it took little time to finish. Once the elven gear was secured, they moved on to sweeping the nearby research stations.

Though he had retrieved several additional dossiers, Bennett merely stashed them away for later study.

"Bennett-nim."

"Are we finished?"

"Yes, we've gathered everything of value," Kyle replied, glancing toward the survivor they had pulled from the elves' clutches. "And Mr. Liam has graciously offered to help carry our packs."

"Good. Once we clear this facility, we can take a proper rest—"

Bennett cut himself off, his brow knitting as he snapped his head toward the wall.

"Bennett-nim? What is it?"

"Wait."

His gaze fixed on a flat, tablet-like terminal mounted against the bulkhead—the same electronic displays he had passed numerous times throughout the complex. Until now, they had displayed incomprehensible strings of Dungeon Language, which he had largely ignored. But this time...

Bennett could not decipher a single character of the Dungeon Language, but the Arabic numerals were identical to the numbering system of his world.

The remaining time was ticking down at an unforgiving pace.

GONG—!

A solemn, resonant chime rang directly inside Bennett's mind at that very moment.

Bennett and his comrades froze, every nerve strained to catch the ringing of the bells. The direction and distance of the chime were crucial indicators for pinpointing where the exits had spawned.

Yet an immediate obstacle arose.

"Bennett-nim," Kyle muttered, panic creeping into his voice as he looked around. "I... I can't hear a thing."

Silence met his ears. Neither the resonance of the public gate nor the faint chime of the secret exit registered.

"What's happening? Are my ears playing tricks on me?"

"You don't hear it with your physical ears, idiot!" Edgar snapped, though his own face had drained of color.

Erika and Liam traded anxious glances, their expressions mirroring each other's dread.

"Th-this has never happened before..."

"What do we do?"

Erika's voice trembled, while Liam nervously darted his eyes across the corridor, his fingers visibly shaking. An inexplicable terror held them in its grip.

"Calm down, all of you."

Bennett's tone was low and steady, an anchor of cold authority that instantly cut through the mounting hysteria.

"Liam, which direction did the elves bring you from?"

"Ah, w-well... down that corridor, there's another branch."

It was the exact opposite of the path Bennett's group had taken to reach the lab.

"Wait here."

Bennett first hurried back toward the fork they had used to enter.

Not here.

He turned immediately and dashed down the route Liam had pointed out. A few dozen paces further, another corridor opened before him.

The instant his foot crossed the threshold—

Tinkle—

Faint, but unmistakably clear, the ethereal chime rang in his mind.

Bennett let out an inward sigh of relief, though his outward expression remained calm and collected as he gestured to the party.

"This way."

"Understood!"

Unlike the winding corridors they had traveled before, this passageway extended in a clean, straight line. After sprinting for several minutes, they reached an open rest area. It was smaller and more cramped than the cafeteria they had encountered earlier.

Multiple corridors branched off into adjacent sectors. Determining the correct path was straightforward: they simply had to step into each entryway one by one.

"Not this one!"

"N-Not here either!"

"It's this way!"

Testing each branch methodically, the party quickly converged on the right path.

"Run!"

The same desperate routine repeated itself again and again. Branching junctions split before them in an endless labyrinth, their path barred by lingering zombies and mutated specimens. Because the Hand of Curse had been destroyed, the walking corpses were pitifully frail, but cutting through their tangled masses still cost precious seconds.

The infected hounds, on the other hand, remained lethal. While no monstrosities like the serpentine aberration appeared again, the vicious mutant canines ambushed them at several turns, biting at their flanks.

The terminals lining the walls continued their grim countdown, providing the only assurance that they had not yet run out of time.

Rumble—

The deck vibrated violently, sending plumes of plaster and dust pouring down from the ceiling as if an earthquake were tearing through the mountain above. The chime in Bennett's head had grown loud enough to border on deafening.

Knowing they were on the verge of escape, they pushed their legs to their absolute limits, finally bursting into an enormous cavernous hall.

"Th-There it is!"

A shimmering blue portal hovered in midair, suspended directly above a massive industrial freight elevator painted in caution-tape yellow.

Bennett had encountered elevator mechanisms in other dungeons before, but this one was fundamentally different from the enclosed passenger cabs he knew. There were no solid walls; it was an open framework of steel girders and structural beams, wide enough to accommodate several horse-drawn wagons at once. Even its gates were built to slide vertically rather than parting from the center.

Leaping onto the steel platform, Bennett inspected the control console. He slammed his hand against the levers and buttons, but nothing responded.

A dull red indicator flickered uselessly on the console. The lift was dead.

"It's broken down."

"Th-Then how..."

The exit portal hovered several meters above their heads, suspended in the open vertical shaft.

Bennett looked to Erika.

"Can you cast Flight?"

"I-I'm so sorry... Flight is a 4th-Circle spell..."

Wounded from the earlier battle, Erika's mana channels were still strained, making 4th-Circle magic out of the question. Bennett held no grudge; had she not dual-cast in that dire moment before, the entire party would have perished.

That left only one option.

"We climb."

"What?"

"You see that ladder? We use it to get up."

"B-But the ladder cuts off halfway up the shaft!" Liam stammered.

Bennett shrugged coldly.

"Then you grab the support pillars and climb the rest of the way."

"..."

"Drop your packs. All of you."

Bennett began frantically clearing non-essential supplies from his Sub-space Pouch. Bedrolls, surplus rations, extra canteens—anything of marginal value was tossed to the floor, freeing enough volume to stow the party's entire haul of gear. Overloaded to its absolute limit, the pouch shuddered intermittently against his hip, but it only needed to hold together for a few more minutes.

"Liam, can you make the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠climb on your own?"

The scavenger stared up into the yawning vertical drop and frantically shook his head.

"Kyle?"

"He's lighter than he looks... I can manage it, sir."

"Good. Go, now!"

"Yes, sir!"

Hoisting Liam onto his back, Kyle sprang onto the iron ladder alongside Edgar. Channeling their mana into their limbs, the two frontliners surged upward along the vertical rungs.

Glancing at the countdown, Bennett turned his back to Erika.

"Get on."

"Y-Yes!"

As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, Bennett warned her sharply,

"Do not choke my neck. If you get scared, hold onto my jacket."

"U-Understood!"

Even as her warmth pressed against his back, Bennett's attention remained locked on the status window hovering before his eyes.

Sixteen ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unallocated stat points, earned from his achievements, sat ready for use. Bennett made his allocations without a second of hesitation.

The transformation was instantaneous. Fresh power flooded every tendon and ligament. Bennett flexed his fingers once, savoring the explosive vigor filling his frame.

"Hold tight."

He kicked off the ground and seized the vertical ladder.

"Eek!"

Erika cried out at the sudden lurch of acceleration, but Bennett paid her no mind, pulling himself up the rungs in blur-like bursts of speed.

Crash!

Enormous slabs of concrete began shearing away from the ceiling above the warehouse, signaling the imminent collapse of the entire facility. Reaching the severed end of the ladder, Bennett immediately transitioned to the thick structural pillars of the shaft.

The iron pillars were ill-suited for climbing. They were far too thick to grasp with one hand, coated in flaking rust, and jagged where several connecting beams had sheared off entirely. But such obstacles were not enough to halt his ascent.

"B-Bennett-nim, above us!"

"I see it!"

The instant he swung his body to the opposite girder, a massive block of reinforced concrete plummeted through the airspace he had occupied a heartbeat earlier. Had his reaction lagged by even a fraction of a second, they would have been pulverized.

SCREEECH!

A horrific groan of shearing metal reverberated through the shaft as the floor beneath them violently gave way. The entire lower platform and its supporting framework were plunging into the subterranean abyss.

Gritting his teeth, Bennett pushed off the girder with all the explosive force his enhanced Agility could muster.

Boom!

The shock sent a jolt of fire through his toes, but the kinetic leap launched him soaring through the air, catching the upper lip of the shaft's steel scaffold.

RUMBLE!

Billowing clouds of gray dust and concrete debris cascaded from above, completely choking their vision.

Through the blinding fog of dust, the luminous blue geometry of the exit portal snapped into razor-sharp focus. Feeling the steel scaffold trembling beneath his boots as it began its final descent, Bennett flung his entire body forward in a desperate dive.

The brilliant blue veil enveloped his sight.

In the final fraction of a second before the portal consumed him, Bennett caught a glimpse of the collapsed laboratory behind them—swallowed whole by the crumbling earth as the facility folded in upon itself.

THUD!

"Bennett-nim!"

Kyle and Edgar, who had been waiting with bated breath on the other side, rushed forward in haste.

Pushing himself up before they could grab his arms, Bennett looked around to take in his surroundings.

The open plaza, the bustling crowd of scavengers, the grand stone colonnades—they were back in the Pioneers' Hall.

"Phew..."

Recognizing the familiar stone underfoot, Bennett let out a long, heavy breath of relief.