1162 words. Ha!
Well, if I'm going to do this might as well take it from when we first became a cursebearer... I'll skip chapters but hey.
After everything so far I have to say this title is quite appropriate. We picked well, for what we wanted.
The decision was made, the bargain complete. He felt the weight of each Curse settle upon him like a leaden shroud. But alongside came a spark of power, swift and irrepressible, coursing through nerve and vein, awakening some part of the Hero that had been. Sublime electricity like a held breath, like the stillness before a storm, skin of the world so paper thin that with a fingertip's exertion he could brush through, touch the capillary-walls of the weft between realms.
An awesome description for "and then he gains unlimited potential, but at such a high price." Still, this is just the very start, and even that first spark is electric. Just how much power have we signed up for? Even now it's only just starting to become clear...
He was not fully restored. Nowhere near the fullness of his power, still but a shadow of the man that he was, soul and memory tattered with holes. That was the cost in selfhood that he'd burned to strike down the overlord.
And so by choosing this we chose to remain broken. But we have the potential to heal, and we shall not give that up. I shall not allow it!
But it was strength enough to start again, and with strength came even a dull flicker of hope.
How long has it been, I wonder, since Hunger felt hope at that point? After his very world betrayed him after he gave everything to save them? Ah, it's too depressing to consider for long. I'm glad we've gotten him in a much better mental state, now.
When entire world had abandoned him, this being - cosmic monster, impossible horror, whatever it was - had reached out its hand. Whatever its reasons or timing, it alone had given him a chance. Had offered respite, or vengeance, to a tool so thoroughly expended that even the dim shadow of a future had seemed a faraway dream. He would not forget, that every tomorrow onward was possible only because of this being today.
To owe the accursed a favor... I wonder, is that really such a bad thing? That great monster is one of the good guys, after all. Or at least he believes himself to be such. And the fact that the multiverse isn't even more broken is a sure sign this is true. After all, what damage could the accursed do with his curses alone, if he didn't bother to mitigate the ones like Decimator? Still, I wonder what it was that managed to bring such a thing down at his height, at the moment he finally attained enough power to change everything? It must have been a move of incomprehensible power and desperation.
"Thank you," he said, as it turned to leave. "I'll pay you back one day."
The Accursed raised an eyebrow, slight amusement in its eye. "See that you do."
Somehow he felt, despite the vast gulf between them - transcendent overbeing and depleted wretch - that those parting words were no cosmic transaction, but merely an agreement between men.
I wonder if we really can? Well, I certainly intend for us to try.
And then the Accursed was gone, the world resuming its mundane pace, footsteps thudding outside his door. Soldiers come to collect his presumptive corpse.
And the moment breaks and time resumes. The accursed only present for the briefest of moments. Revenge on the locals is beyond us, for now. For we have agreed to something else...
He inhaled deeply, the tug of the Geas like a hook through his chest, and let it carry him forward, to another world than this.
I wonder, who is in control of this Geas? Is it the Accursed, using us as a pawn to slowly change the multiverse to his will, is it his enemies, trying to bend the Accursed's own actions to their desires and finding themselves inadequate? Or is it something else entirely? A cost inseparable from the power?
Plenty of time for sentimentality if he survived. In the meantime there were other debts to pay. And these would not be so pleasant. To fulfill the mission of his vengeance, the first step was simple.
The first step is always simple. Actually accomplishing it on the other hand...
See? See what I mean? This is ridiculous. 4 words that might as well be "Conquer Reality Itself" for how easy they are. Yeah, this has been a challenge and will remain so. If only because a rotating half of us are trying to get ourselves killed
There was no jarring transition. Barely had the impression of passage touched him before he arrived. He was standing on a hill of green grass under blue skies. The sun was stark and brilliant, a mailed fist of light bearing down. A breeze was blowing, cool and soothing but with the faintest scent of charcoal. He raised a hand to cover his eyes and took his bearings.
And so we get our first look at the Voyager's realm. Yep, totally a standard Isekai 'verse. We should probably seal it before we leave. Because I'm kinda fed up with Destiny sticking it's nose into everything. Of course the scent was the first warning that, naturally, we were immediately dropped into trouble. Fucking Apocryphal Curse.
The mission of his Geas unfurled in his mind, the task upon which he'd wagered his life.
Conquer at least nine-tenths of the Human Sphere and rule for a period of no less than fifty contiguous years. Time limit: twenty-five hundred years.
2,500 to conquer and rule for 50 years. Probably for the best. Assassination missions don't have as much leadup time, so we wouldn't be able to stock up quite as much ridiculous power. I'm pretty sure if we survive we'll be able to conquer the human sphere single handedly within 500 years. We may want to intentionally drag that out if we can dredge more power out of the realm, though.
He was unused to rulership, and his first attempts at politics would have killed him were it not for the Accursed's intercession. It would be a change of pace, to say the least.
Ha! Normally the first attempt at politics only kills your innocence. But then you didn't have any of that since the Tyrant first defeated you when you were destined to win, did you Hunger?
But how much at all remained of the man he'd been? His name, his titles, half the memories that comprised his identity had been burned from his soul in the final conflagration of his battle with the Tyrant. He recalled that he had come from Earth, a planet of sophisticated technology, born in a land of the far East... or was it the far West? He had been a schoolboy, on the precipice of manhood. He had stumbled into a glade. The contours of his mundane life remained, but its details slipped like raindrops through his fingers.
The price we paid for unlimited potential, and the price Hunger paid to finally defeat the Tyrant, was far, far too high. Let's get all of that back and more, shall we? Unsurprising that our own Hero was an Isekai hero. Seems standard to the way the multiverse works. How odd.
All those memories he'd sacrificed in order to hold more tightly onto what truly mattered. The names and faces of those who'd fought besides him. Who'd given themselves so that he could live, shell of a man that he was. Those he'd befriended. Those he'd admired. And those he had loved.
I'm glad he was able to keep at least some of it. It will be a lifeline to pulling the rest of the past back and healing. For I do not believe healing can be true so long as his soul remains burned by his sacrifice.
He would seek vengeance for them, and for himself. Whatsoever architects had engineered the misery inherent to their lives, he would cast them down. No matter how high their thrones, how unassailable their power, he would not rest until they lay broken before him. And he would bring back all who had died to the Tyrant, when he was strong enough to keep them safe. There would be power enough even for that, someday. Power enough and more, if he was to someday keep his promise to his benefactor.
From everything we know, Destiny was aiding him, but something stronger got in the way and gave the Tyrant a boost he should not have had. I wonder, what was the plan? I doubt it ended the way they expected, though. For we are in line to get enough power to get Vengeance even on them, whatever and wherever they are. They will not see us coming until it is far, far too late.
Someday. If he survived. If he completed this mission, and all the missions before him. So he was to be a tyrant? So be it. But the time for deliberation had passed.
The price we have paid is to become our very enemy. Irony. I wonder if whoever is pulling the strings has a sense of humor... I suspect so. Apocryphal is just too on-the-nose, ya know?
There were more pressing concerns. A short sharp bark behind him, unnaturally loud, and he whirled to see a pack of armored creatures loping towards him, hyena-like mouths tasting the air. The frontmost pair charged, leaping forward with uncanny coordination, fangs bared and slavering.
I like how Hunger was so distracted by his inner musing he didn't notice the fight going on nearby until he walked on top of it. We should probably make sure he's more alert in the future.
Casually he adjusted his stance. The creature on his left sailed harmlessly by as he drove his bare fist into the one on his right. Its chest all but disintegrated, the shock of his strike describing a perfect circle of sky where its torso once was.
Weak. Given just how little power we had at the time it was quite luck that they were so far beneath us. ...Of course Apocryphal means we'll never be really lucky. Not for long.
He twisted, reaching back with his hand to grab the first creature by the scruff, hurled it with catapult force into the ranks of its fellows, and leapt, falling like cannon fire into their midst. The force of those twin impacts sent the beasts into brief disarray, and he killed swiftly as they gathered, slaying three more before the pack regained its cohesion. Retreating slightly, they coalesced around him with an easy, dauntless fluidity, the dozen disjoint appendages of a single mind.
And it's a hivemind. Lovely. Not surprising though. No way would we be lucky enough for it to really be so weak that immediately after getting our curses we would be completely unchallenged by them.
He'd never found any enjoyment in killing the Tyrant's men, offering surrender when practical. But he'd no such compunctions about the Tyrant's monsters. Despite himself, the once-hero smiled. It'd been too long since he'd killed something properly.
Well... at least he isn't completely insane. That's nice, at least. Easier to work with. Though we should probably be careful what he considers a monster...
They sprang at him again, a whirlwind of fang and claw, but he swung his palm outward, neatly bisecting the creatures at his front, and shoulder-checked his way to the other side of their perimeter. Encirclement broken, the rest turned to flee. They didn't get far.
No chance at all. But then these are just minor offshoots to the real danger, so that shouldn't be surprising. Still, we got eased into things a bit. After everything so far I'm amazed Apocryphal didn't literally drop us on top of the Astral beast responsible for this mess... or the other way around. Whichever would be funnier.
Supplies would be a factor, he mused. He wondered if these monsters were edible. But their bodies dissolved quickly, melting away in the few brief minutes of his scrutiny. Likely not edible, though it was unclear how exactly his status as a Cursebearer had altered his physiology.
Biology? What's that? Some kind of mortal thing? Yeah, Hunger, you've had your curses for minutes and are already entirely divorced from mortal logic. It's only going to get worse from here.
A second pack approached, larger in numbers, though little more bothersome than the first. Still it seemed wise to track down and eliminate the source of these creatures before he began to tire. As he crested another hill, he could faintly make out a city on the horizon, smoke in countless tendrils twisting upwards from its walls. Grand spires of white stone jutted upwards from the fortifications.
Where there is one swarm there is 50. Fucking apocryphal. Nice to see civilization, though we never did get to learn anything about that city. Shame.
Looming above were two grander figures still. The first was an wurm-like monster covered in armor plates, towering and vast, its top a grotesque cross of dragon and jackal, lower half a single muscular tail. It was locked in the throes of battle with a vaguely humanoid abomination, bipedal and armored as well.
And so we see our first Astral beast, and the first Armament. I wonder... how did the first people who arrived even manage to figure out what an Armament was? The things are entirely indistinguishable from Astral beasts unless you find the hatch.
A pang struck him at the sight of that second giant, as if the marrow in his bones had gained magnetic charge, pulling like a pointer hound in its direction. There was an affinity between them, not that of friends, not quite allies, but... a sense of camaraderie, as if in all of the vast, lonely universe they were the only two of their kind.
But as a cursebearer we have an advantage there. Our curses resonate. I wonder, if I had been reading at this point would I have caught the implication that the Armament was also a kind of cursebearer, though a limited one. Incredibly powerful but not a progression-cursebearer. Yet too strong for a Combat one. I wonder what that is about?
