Omega Ascension System[BL]

Chapter 322: _Curse Origin

Elian’s POV

*****

At the break of dawn, on the fifth hour, Elian, Kyren and Lucian were already walking out of the palace.

Elian still remembered how the system had reminded him almost cruelly last night about the deadline for breaking the curse. He’d gotten so comfortable after weakening it that he forgot.

[And whose fault is that? Mine?]

’I didn’t say it’s your fault.’ Elian nearly face-palmed. ’But a reminder while I was in the middle of a funeral and constantly worrying about my psychotic mate destroying the palace—’

[Okay, okay... I get it! Jeez. You’re talking like you don’t have till tonight to complete it.]

How comforting...

"So, hold up." Lucian’s voice as they approached a Lunarian stealth craft broke the banter. "Elian... You said to break the curse, we’ll need to enter its origin point." Pausing, he swerved his head to him. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Elian honestly wasn’t so sure himself.

Last night, he’d made the system run through every piece of information they’d stored from the book on magic for beginners. The one he got from Kyren’s grand Library.

While the book had proven useless once when he was searching for info on the High Matron, it was useful when he did in-depth research on curses.

Or at least, the basics.

Most curses required the caster or someone far more powerful to break them. Since the curse was split amongst the three of them, that meant it existed simultaneously within each.

Which led to his next theory. Finding a curse origin point.

"Some of the most powerful curses ever cast were heightened by forces beyond the caster’s natural power," Elian began explaining, noticing Kyren’s gaze on him. "Chaotic energy. Eldritch magic... You name it. And that’s clearly what happened since Amara’s curse was meant to disrupt my interaction with the most powerful energy so far..."

"Divine energy," Kyren muttered, crimson eyes widening with surprise.

Nodding, Elian continued. "Exactly. Amara is powerful and a transcendent mage, but even she couldn’t have woven the curse with her powers alone. She’d need ancient forces. Forces she’s summoned to a certain ritual site for millennia or more."

Lucian’s eyes glinted with realisation. "The curse core... That’s... Wow."

Yeah, it all sounded crazy.

Elian didn’t know if he could trust his theory, but the system had hinted that he was getting warm to a solution. So this was the only shot they got.

On getting to the ramp unfurled from the right side of the golden sky craft, Kyren glanced back at Elian and Lucian. "I can track the curse’s origin... But like Elian said we’ll all have to be together for it to be possible."

[All this talk about curses is building an appetite for a cursed harem—]

’No innuendos, perv.’

"We’ll have to be quick then." Lucian glanced at a small holographic screen his ring projected. "The coronation ceremony is in ten hours. This mission needs to be clean and safe—"

"I don’t know about ’safe’," Elian scratched the back of his head. "The curse origin is most likely in Arcadia. And we’re basically unnamed fugitives there."

"And Amara literally kidnapped Aurora from Lunarian territory days back." Lucian countered. "Let’s face it. Even if we get caught, we still have enough leverage for a war. I’m not afraid to back the Dark Lands against Amara and her kingdom of blind witches."

Ooop.

No one said another word.

As they boarded the sky craft, Elian couldn’t help taking one last look at the Lunarian palace. One day. Just one day where all he’ll have to worry about is splitting his time between these golden walls and the Dark Lands.

’Your days of fucking over my life are numbered, Amara.’ he thought finally, tearing his gaze away as they climbed into the craft.

.

.

Elian’s stomach dipped the moment the ramp sealed shut behind them.

The interior of the sky craft hummed to life, runes along the walls flickering from gold to a muted obsidian glow. This wasn’t a passenger vessel. It was built for infiltration.

Kyren moved with ease toward the control array, crimson eyes reflecting faint sigils as his fingers danced over the air.

Lucian took a seat beside Elian, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

"Once we cross the border," Kyren said without looking back, "Arcadian wards will try to flag us as a foreign presence. I’ll slip us through the blind seams between patrol zones."

"And the location of the curse’s origin?" Lucian asked. "Still cloaked?"

Kyren smiled faintly. "Everything leaves a residue. Even gods make mistakes."

Elian swallowed.

The craft lifted soundlessly, the palace shrinking beneath them until Lunaria became a mosaic of silver and shadow. Clouds swallowed the horizon.

They moved at hyper speed, passing cities in seconds. Flying over the Dark Lands in under a minute. Then the air... changed.

Elian felt it before the system warned him.

[Arcadian territory detected.]

[Multiple cloaking arrays ahead.]

[Warning: curse resonance increasing.]

"There," Kyren murmured.

He raised his right hand, palm facing upward. Crimson light bled from his veins, coiling into a sigil that rotated slowly in the air. The curse responded instantly.

Elian gasped.

Something pulled inside him.

The ache in his chest sharpened, veins along his arms glowing faintly black as the heart jewel fragment flared beneath his skin.

"This is—" he hissed. "This is wrong."

"Good," Kyren replied calmly, although his teeth gritted from the backlash. "Wrong things lead to hidden places."

The sigil twisted, elongating into a needle-like construct that snapped toward a point far below the clouds.

"There," Kyren said. "The origin hasn’t moved in centuries. That means it’s anchored to land."

Lucian’s jaw clenched. "Bring us down."

The craft descended.

Arcadia revealed itself reluctantly—dense forests wrapped in mist, valleys scarred by old magic, ancient stone ruins half-swallowed by roots and time. The sky grew darker the closer they got, clouds folding unnaturally as if avoiding a specific region.

Then—

"There," Elian whispered.

The manor didn’t appear. It phased in.

One second there was only forest.

The next, a massive estate stood before them—black stone walls veined with dull violet light, spires crooked like broken fingers clawing at the sky. The air around it shimmered, distorting distance and sound.

Wards stacked on wards. Cloaks folded over cloaks.

Kyren didn’t slow.

He slammed his palm against the control rune, flooding the craft with crimson energy. The cloaking wards screamed—literally—before collapsing inward, forced to recognize a higher authority than themselves.

The sky craft vanished from Arcadia’s senses entirely.

They landed soundlessly on cracked marble grounds choked by weeds and dead leaves.

Kyren stood first. "Cloaking wards active. No visual, magical, or spatial signature."

Lucian helped Elian down the ramp, his grip firm.

The moment Elian’s boots hit the ground, the pain returned—sharp and disorienting.

"This place..." He shuddered. "It’s definitely where the curse’s origin is at."

They approached the manor.

The doors were already open. That should’ve been the first warning.

Inside, the manor was... empty.

No servants. No guardians. No wards flaring in response to intruders.

Dust lay undisturbed on the marble floors. Candles sat half-melted in sconces, frozen mid-use like time had simply stopped caring.

Lucian’s hand tightened around Elian’s. "I don’t like this."

Kyren scanned the hall, expression unreadable. "Neither do I."

They moved deeper.

Every step echoed too loudly. Corridors branched unnaturally, angles shifting when Elian wasn’t looking directly at them. Portraits lined the walls—faceless figures, their eyes scratched out, frames warped as if bent by heat.

Elian’s head throbbed.

"Stop," he said suddenly.

Both men froze.

His breath came shallow. "This place isn’t abandoned. It’s waiting."

[Spatial instability detected. Dimensional layering active.]

[Recommendation: Immediate—]

Suddenly, the floor lurched. The manor moved.

Walls twisted, stretching impossibly as the ceiling cracked open into darkness. The air screamed. Gravity inverted, then snapped back violently.

"Elian!" Lucian shouted—

Too late.

The ground split beneath them like tearing flesh.

Elian felt himself fall—

—and then separate.

Not physically. Existentially.

He landed hard on cold stone.

Silence.

He gasped, pushing himself up, heart racing. The manor was gone.

Instead, he stood in a vast white expanse—endless, blinding, and empty.

Except for one thing.

A mirror.

Tall. Cracked. Familiar.

His reflection stared back. Except it wasn’t just a mere reflection.

It was older. Colder. Silver fire burning where his eyes should be.

"You always wondered," the reflection spoke, voice layered and distant, "what would happen if you stopped holding back."

Elian’s blood ran cold.

He took several steps back, heart hammering against his chest as images flashed through his head.

Terrified screams. Blood, guts and a child’s body going limp when he possessed him.

"N–No..." he shook his head, spinning around. But before he moved a step, the reflection appeared in front of him.

Its body was now nothing but pure silver energy, eyes blazing and lips curving into a wicked smirk. "What’s the matter, Elian?" It took two steps forward, making Elian stumble back. "Afraid of yourself now? Because this is what you are. At your core."

Tears stung Elian’s eyes, his jaw clenching hard.

This... space. Whatever it was, it was designed for a reason. To reflect his deepest fears at him. Whilst isolating him from the people who would’ve kept him grounded.

"Fuck..." he cursed.