Curselock: A Cursed LITRPG Adventure

The lost soul drifted slowly back and forth, staring at Leland like he was salvation. Leland, meanwhile, felt just as lost.

He internally cursed at the Seraph Lord for tricking him. Wings in exchange for always seeing death? For being the only one around to guide the dead to the afterlife? To hear and experience their pain, to... to…

Tears filled the corners of Leland’s eyes. There was no trick, he had agreed to the contract without truly thinking about the outcome. He knew what was asked of him, but only now did it fully sink in. He was to learn respect for the dead, exactly as the Seraph Lord told him. That was his true task, not simply to help souls pass on.

Souls.

The ammunition for his power, the fuel for his parasitic weapon, Lodestar, the resource for keeping himself able in battle.

Souls.

People.

The dead.

Leland’s stomach churned, and he thought. He was a monster, right? He consumed souls to protect himself. No… no, that wasn’t right. He only consumed the souls of those who tried to harm him. He killed the real monsters, taking their souls to make sure he and his survived. They weren’t innocent, the souls he used. They were nothing like the lost soul before him.

Swallowing down the spike of self-loathing, Leland planted his wobbly feet and straightened his spine. As calmly as he could, he spoke to the lost soul.

“You are dead, I am sorry.”

The lost soul twisted again, its face rotating like the hands of a clock. Then it screamed. Hallowed and human, it screeched in deathly woe, the last of its previous life dying. Green poured from its ephemeral body, filling the surrounding area with the mist that makes a person.

“I can…” Leland came to grips with what he was about to ask. “I can make sure whoever killed you sees justice.”

He had told Isobel he wouldn’t get involved with the local Sightless Cult problem, so he had ignored the soul’s dead body lying in the alley. But he couldn’t any longer. The body was lacking wounds, like he had dropped dead from heart attack, except for his eyes. Burned away and hollow, like searing metal had been implanted inside his skull.

It wasn’t quite what happened to Glenny back in Shoutwell, but the same magic had killed this man. Sigils, horrid magical circles that could be inscribed nearly anywhere. In this case, and similarly to Leland’s experience in Shoutwell, sigils ran the length of the alley and into the darkness. They were carved into the stone, small grooves like the inlay of a regal sword but cheap and crude.

Leland kept his head down, only looking at the edges of the sigil. He didn’t want to investigate any more than necessary, but, if he was a betting man, he would bet this alley was a cult entrance. And the dead man had simply walked in too close and was killed for his troubles.

Just the wrong place at the wrong time.

“It was the cult,” Leland said to the lost soul. “I’ll make sure the guard know. No one else will have to die like you did.”

Behind him, the gathered crowd gasped. There were a dozen by this point but most left the moment the cult was announced. Some stayed and watched Leland speak to the empty air, however. In the distance, guards rushed down the street, blowing whistles and telling people to vacate the area.

The lost soul stared at Leland and he stared back.

“I can’t help you any more than helping you to pass on,” Leand whispered. “There is nothing left for you here.”

The soul’s face twisted and it screamed again, loud enough to make Leland block his ears.

“Okay, okay!” he yelled, the soul going quiet. “There is something here for you! A family, probably, I get it!”

The soul’s twisted face reverted and it listened.

“I… I can’t help them. Not like how you would want.” Leland grit his teeth and said, “I’m not you. I can’t help them. They will have to move on without you. It will be painful for them, maybe even the hardest thing they’ve lived through. But they will live through it.”

The soul floated silently.

“D-do you have kids?” he asked, not knowing where he was going with this.

The soul didn’t answer, only watched him.

“I hope that means yes,” Leland shook his head. “I have a friend. His mother died a few years back. He was devastated— and his father too for that matter. They grieved and grieved, distanced themselves from one another and threw themselves into something to distract themselves. Work, in both cases. It has never been easy since that day for them, but they still live. They help people, both of them, and eventually they helped each other. Neither had moved on the last time I saw them, but they could still smile. They could laugh, they were happy.”

Leland was silent for a moment before adding, “It was the hardest thing they had ever had to deal with, but they did. And your family will be the same way, I promise you that.”

Honestly, Leland didn’t know if any of his words got through to the soul. It had spoken to him, but well…

The lost soul looked at its previous body then back at Leland then to the sky. Overhead the clouds rolled, full-on rain just starting to fall.

“They will be okay,” Leland said firmly.

The soul gave him one last look before imploding in a green mist, disappearing from the realm of the living.

Leland felt something in his grimoire change. Something had been updated to one of his contracts. He ignored it for now.

“Well done, young Sheppard.”

Jolting at the voice, Leland spun on his heel. “Who—”

An elderly siren stood patiently a few steps away. He was as tall as a human but scaled like a shimmering fish. Two sets of gills cut through his neck, along with two streams of water rushing through them from magical earrings. His hands were clasped behind his back but the telltale signs of webbed fins ran down the length of his shoulders and forearms.

His eyes drooped in a kindly way, like he had seen countless deaths and helped more than a few with the process. Noticing Leland’s concern, the man pulled his right hand forward. On the back of his hand, woven between scales, was the man’s Legacy tattoo. It was simple, just a circle with wispy waves.

Leland recognized it as the Lord of Souls’ mark. He subtly moved his own hand and tattoo out of view.

“That was the first time I’ve…” he trailed off, his eyes finding the dead body. “I’ve got to go—”

“Now wait just a moment. I remember when I first helped someone pass on. I was sick for a week,” the man said. “I refused to leave my home, for I didn’t want to experience something like that ever again. But I also knew—”

A trio of guards pushed through the street and the few people standing around. They yelled something in some language, probably announcing themselves and clearing the area.

Leland went to leave but the siren held out a hand stopping him. The elderly man said something to the guards and the guards turned to Leland.

“What happened here?” she demanded.

Before Leland could answer, the siren said, “This young Sheppard just helped a soul pass on. Lower your tone before I inform Sargent Halls.”

The guard stiffened. “O-of course Elder Gruff.”

Nodding, the siren, Elder Gruff, turned back to Leland. “Now, like I was saying, it is good to talk to someone about this. I can see it in you. You are shaken, but that is perfectly normal.”

The Elder thought for a moment. “You know… I haven’t seen you around before. Are you visiting the city or are you guide less?”

Not wanting to be part of this conversation, Leland said to the guard trio. “The Sightless Cult did this with sigils,” he motioned to the alley. “They are carved into the walls and floor. I’ve seen this before and can tell you that they want something down there hidden. Don’t look any closer without precautions.”

The guards looked at him like he had grown a third head. Then, slowly, one of them turned and walked off, evolving into a sprint a few steps later.

Elder Gruff sighed. “Then it looks like Sargent Halls will be coming out after all.” The siren then eyed Leland. “You’ve ‘seen this’ before?” his voice more than acquisition.

Leland didn’t like that tone. He inched away, the Elder following.

“Tell me son, are you a visitor or just masterless? Either way, you are going to have to come with me—”

And there it was. The reason Isobel didn’t want him to get involved. Leland suppressed a groan, just knowing that she was going to mock him later.

He pivoted onto his toes and reached for Sybil’s mask. He started sprinting away as the obscuring effect of the mask took effect. Behind, he heard what remained of the crowd gasp at his sudden disappearance. He spared a glance back, finding Elder Gruff and the two alert guards looking around wildly.

Leland didn’t think about them, however. No, his mind was flooded with the soul he had helped pass on and just how horrible the process was.

Maybe… just maybe, he should have heard Elder Gruff out. But then again, he had others he could speak to. His first thought went to the Lord of Souls.

Yeah, Leland thought to himself with a bit of a laugh. I’m going to discuss how difficult it was to help a soul pass on with the Lord of Souls. That’s ironic and surreal.