Chapter 347

The first boy was the toughest, partly because he tried so hard not to show fear, clenching his jaw, fists clenched at his sides, despite his entire signature being filled with emotion, which allowed the curse to feed on his negativity, and partly because Nick had to carefully map his soul, learning how the curse had embedded itself into both flesh and spirit in these younger hosts.After him, it got smoother.

One by one, the children stepped forward, relieved that he had succeeded once.

Nick wrapped each of them in a bubble of wind to muffle any involuntary sounds, set the Shard hovering over their chest, and let sink inward. Calm spiritual mana flowed first in a cool stream, the opposite of the curse’s wild hunger, until the knots of fear and pain loosened enough for him to work.

Then came the delicate part.

Finding the hooks and teasing them loose without tearing too much of the soul’s fabric, letting erase the backlash twelve times in a row.

CONGRATULATIONS!

You have prevented from taking root in a living host!

+50,000 Exp

+47,000 Exp

+42,000 Exp

The notifications piled up in the back of his mind, but he didn’t bother counting until the last one chimed, telling him he’d earned three hundred thousand in total.

It was much less than what he had received for the soldiers or the initial breakthroughs, but that made sense since he wasn’t really learning anything new now, just applying what he already knew.

By the time he finished the twelfth, his head throbbed faintly, but his mana reserves still remained comfortably above half. The Shard truly was a game changer, drawing off some of the strain that would have otherwise taxed his channels and forced him to overcompensate.

The last child, a small girl with oversized ears, looked up at him, her eyes now a simple, warm hazel instead of that strange, yellow gleam.

“All done,” Nick said softly. “You’ll be tired for a while, but that’s normal. Just go to sleep earlier tonight.”

She nodded, wobbling on her feet. One of the older boys quickly stepped in to steady her, showing that no matter what happened, they’d be there for each other.

The old woman remained seated in her chair by the wall, watching.

Her expression hadn’t changed much, but the aura around her had shifted from watchful suspicion to simple wariness.

He turned to her. “I can try with you, if you want.”

She snorted softly, the sound somewhere between human and lupine. “It’s too late for me, boy,” she rasped. “You know that.”

Nick hesitated, knowing deep down that the curse in her was old and deeply rooted, its hooks woven too tightly.

And yet.

“You’ve kept your mind,” he said. “For longer than anyone else managed. That’s not nothing. It’s worth a try.”

The old woman’s mouth twisted. “It’s all stubbornness,” she said. “And spite. After my own nephew turned me, I had nothing else left.”

“Spite can be useful,” Nick said. “And you saw what I did with the kids. The curse was deeper in them than in the soldiers I treated back in Long Reach, and I still managed to pry it out. I can’t promise anything for you.” He exhaled. “But I think I can change the balance, give you a bit more of yourself.”

The children had been listening and didn’t hesitate to do their part.

“Grandma Mara,” the oldest boy whispered. “Please.”

“Let him try,” another child chimed in fiercely. “You said we would all live safely together.”

The old woman closed her eyes, and Nick sensed the pain in her aura. She had probably already decided it was better for her to die than risk turning fully and killing the children she was protecting, or turning them again in a fit.

“Even if I fail,” Nick added quietly, “I can make it so you won’t hurt them.”

He was fairly sure he could make it so her soul would tear itself apart instead of letting the curse consume it. He didn’t say so outright, but she understood him anyway. Her lips parted in a humorless, toothy grin.

“You don’t mince words, do you, mage?” she said. “Fine. Try. If you make it worse, I’ll haunt you.”

“Get in line,” Nick muttered. He stepped closer, slowly extending his hand.

“Same as with them,” he warned. “I’ll touch your head. It might feel strange from your side, but try not to fight me.”

The moment he made contact and pushed in, the world fell away.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Diving into an ordinary person’s soul was a bit like diving into a lake: refreshingly cool and dark, with gentle currents you could feel if you knew what to look for. Diving into another caster’s soul was more like stepping into a hall of mirrors.

Mara’s soulspace expanded around him in unusual ways. It had a structure made of intricate perceptions, fragments of old spells, and layers of self intentionally crafted over many years. Colors flickered as memories and feelings emerged.

And through all of it, the curse became visible.

Sometimes it was hooked in the usual way, with its silver barbs sunk deep. Those he recognized, but elsewhere, things weren’t as clear.

“Huh,” Nick muttered, though there was no air for his voice to travel.

In some areas, the curse wasn’t linked directly to the soul itself. Its threads had embedded into Mara’s mana channels, following the natural pathways for her arts, wrapping around them, strengthening them, and sometimes even replacing sections entirely.

That was not good for his chances of removing it. Trying to rip those out would be less like removing a parasite and more like yanking out a vein; it simply wasn’t possible.

He traced one of the threads, watching how it looped back to a spike lodged deep in the center of her being. Some parts of that thread seemed nearly willingly let in to give her flexibility elsewhere, while other parts were clearly imposed by the crushing weight of a feral will not her own.

He could sense Mara’s mind nearby, not exactly watching him but aware of his presence, and thanks to that, her soul didn’t resist him.

“Okay,” Nick murmured. “We’re not pulling this out. But we can shore up the other side.”

He gathered spiritual mana, guiding it to rise within him like a cold tide. This time, he didn’t send it as a probing spear but as a mist, seeping into the gaps between curse and soul and soothing what it could reach.

Wherever he found a scar, a spot where the curse had torn, and the soul had healed around it, he reinforced it. Layers of calm, patience, and stubbornness grounded her identity. He fueled strength into the parts of Mara that defined her, the old memories of family, simple crafts, and pride in a job well done.

Here, a thread of her love for the children, wrapped in worry. There, the bittersweet satisfaction of confronting a tax collector. Over there, the stubborn refusal to give in when the curse first howled at the full moon.

He laced those together with his mana, hardening them, making them less yielding to the monstrous instincts.

In a way, he was also cursing Mara. It just happened that his curse was much milder and less demanding, and it would only give her power unless she surrendered.

He wasn’t sure if he was in there for minutes or hours. Psychedelic flashes flickered and faded, and at one point, he was certain he smelled herbs and smoke as if he were in her kitchen. He also saw her young, calloused hands performing a simple purification spell over a newborn’s cradle.

Eventually, he faced resistance, not from Mara, but from himself. His reserves, though not empty, had dipped enough that pushing harder would weaken his defenses, and he knew better than to give the curse an opening like that, even if should be enough on its own.

“Alright,” Nick said, and let the flow taper off. “That’s all I can do for you.”

He withdrew cautiously, avoiding any jarring movements as the soulspace slowly dissolved. Gradually, sensations returned, and he felt the creak of the chair, detected the faint aroma of stew lingering in the air, and heard the soft murmur of voices outside the house.

CONGRATULATIONS!

Your Trait has ranked up to !

+100,000 Exp

He blinked, noticing that the sunlight was coming through the window at a different angle. Mara was still sitting in the chair with her eyes closed, breathing slowly and evenly.

Nick let his hand fall away from her forehead.

“Welcome back,” Raphael said quietly.

He was leaning against the opposite wall, while Terence sat on a nearby stool, elbows on his knees and dagger in hand, eyes locked on Mara, ready to strike at the slightest sign of trouble.

“I thought we might have to throw water on you eventually,” Raphael added. “You were out for hours.”

Nick rolled his shoulders, checking how he felt. His head was fine, and his mana was low but not running out. “I’ve had worse,” he said.

Terence cleared his throat. “And her?”

Nick glanced at Mara.

She hadn’t moved yet, but her aura felt different. The wild, jagged edges of the curse were still there, but they pressed against something stronger now. The parts of her that were her felt denser, more defined, thanks to his own proto-curse.

She was awake, but pretending not to be.

“She’s still cursed,” Nick said honestly. “I couldn’t pull it out without tearing her apart, since it’s so entwined, but I reinforced her side of the tug-of-war, so to speak.”

“And in practical terms, for those of us not versed in this kind of magic?” Raphael pressed.

“In practical terms,” Nick said, “she’s much less likely to lose control, and the curse will have to work harder. If she can keep her mind intact through it all, again and again, she might find a balance."

“And if she doesn’t?” Terence asked.

The implication of the question was clear: .

Nick was briefly taken aback by how ready he was to kill. Then he remembered that Terence was the local lord's nephew, and that he had decided to take responsibility for the kids.

he thought,

“If she doesn’t,” he said, keeping his voice level, “she’ll probably die before she can hurt anyone. I reinforced her soul’s defenses, not the curse. If a full feral surge hits, her soul will break before it can give in.”

Terence exhaled, and the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction. “Good,” he said quietly. “That’s good.”

Across from them, Mara’s aura flickered with a ripple of relief.

Raphael pushed off the wall. “Then we need to decide what to do with them,” he said. “We can’t leave twelve fresh ex-lycanthropes and one half-cursed witch sitting in an emptied hamlet on the edge of an expanding dungeon.”

“No,” Nick agreed. “We should take them to Long Reach.”

Terence nodded right away. “My uncle will complain,” he said. “But he won’t throw children out, not with me vouching for them.”

Nick’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t point out that the decision probably no longer depended on Rohm.

“How should we do this?” Nick asked.

“Malik and Yvonne’s companions, Tessa and Ord,” Raphael said, “have already offered to escort the kids. Willow and I talked about it while you were working. They’ll take them to Long Reach, report to Tholm, and return to join us as soon as they can."

That made sense. Tessa and Ord were fairly capable, but not essential to their plan, and the way back should be relatively free of monsters.

“Good,” Nick said. “I don’t think more trolls are likely to be lingering, but it’s better they have an escort, especially one who can explain the situation.”

He then turned around and addressed the witch, “You can get up now,” he said mildly.

Mara’s eyes snapped open, briefly glowing with feral yellow before fading quickly. Without her swishing tail and long ears, she looked like an ordinary old woman. “How long do I have?” she asked.

“That depends on you,” he said. “I bought you time. Months, at least, maybe more. Use it wisely. The more you resist, the more the curse will have to spend to overcome you.”

Her jaw clenched. “I will not let it win,” she said.

“I know,” Nick said simply.

She snorted, but some of the tension around her eyes loosened.

Outside, children called to one another, with Tessa and Ord’s deeper voices guiding them, and Willow’s firm commands for them to pack only the absolute necessities.

Raphael glanced toward the door. “We should go,” he said. “The day isn’t getting any longer, and we still have ground to cover.”

Terence walked over to Tessa and Ord.

“Thank you,” he said formally, handing over a letter. “I’m asking this in my capacity as a member of House Rohm. Please bring them safely to the town. You’ll have my uncle’s gratitude and recompense when you arrive.”

Tessa snorted, but there was respect in her eyes. “I’d do it without your uncle’s gratitude,” she said. “But I won’t say no to the coin.”

Ord nodded once. “We’ll get them there,” he rumbled.

Nick almost thought about saying a parting word to the kids, but they seemed fine on their own, so he stayed silent, and the groups separated.

Tessa, Ord, Mara, and twelve children headed northwest, toward Long Reach. Their small group looked painfully vulnerable against the vastness of the Low Savannah, but Willow had cast a few protective spells over them, and the two adventurers should be capable of handling most lesser monsters remaining in the area.

Nick watched them leave until the figures became tiny dots in the golden grass. Only then did Raphael turn to the rest of them.

“Alright,” he said. “We should get moving; the next hamlet is twenty miles further in.”

“Do you think it’ll be worse than this?” Monte asked.

“Almost certainly,” Raphael replied.