Curselock: A Cursed LITRPG Adventure

Isobel didn’t have much to say about Leland’s interference with the local guard. They talked briefly about how he was now the subject of a search but that they didn’t need to worry. As it turned out, Noir Stone was more interested in investigating the cult and not the random kid who alerted them to that fact.

That didn’t mean they were safe, or rather, that didn’t mean Leland was safe. A few guards were searching for him, along with Elder Gruff, but not enough to make any headway. Noir Stone was a very large city, and Leland was as anonymous as anyone else. Still, Isobel made sure her disappointment was known.

It wasn’t so much what Leland did, but how he was truly involved. He, an unknown individual, appeared before the guards, reported important information about a dastardly cult, then disappeared. If he wanted to get involved, which Isobel was still against, there were plenty of better ways to do it. Ways that didn’t present the investigators with more questions.

In the end, Leland’s involvement didn’t really matter. He wasn’t captured, he wasn’t interrogated, he wasn’t even questioned. He appeared and disappeared like a gentle breeze, which, luckily meant Isobel didn’t have to get involved. If she had… well… they might not have been able to wait for their ship to depart.

Laying low until the Wave Slicer left port was simple enough. Just more boredom. Leland had grown accustomed to boredom, he could do boredom. As much as he wished to explore the city, he didn’t. He didn’t want to risk anything else, not when he was so close to getting home.

That, or he didn’t want to see any more death.

That lost soul kept him up at night, its horrid scream playing in his mind despite how much he wished it to stop. Twisted face, bloated skin, being lost. Would that happen to him when he died? Would someone be there to guide him off? Misery and loss, a terrible death for innocent people. Was he innocent? Was that all there was? Was that all there was to look forward to?

Death.

Just how close had he come to dying over the near-year he had been adventuring? The first example that came to mind was the wraith and its frozen sickle while fighting the moose king with Gelo. Glenny had saved him, ending his own duel as quickly as possible to help.

It had been their game plan for the fight, which was fitting because even back then it truly felt like a “game.” There had been no notion of death back then. Just three friends and a united goal.

How stupid had they been?

A knock sounded on Leland’s door. It was time to go. He reached over to the oil lamp, finding it flameless and heatless. Just how long ago had it burned out? Just how long had he been sitting in the dark?

Leland flinched at the thought. He suddenly felt sick, like he had stumbled into some fold of emotion. There was no loss of memory, no monster or enemy that hypnotized him. He was alone in his room, left to his own devices and mind.

He stood, shook out whatever was keeping him in a cage, and opened the door. Isobel stood impatiently. She eyed him and he eyed her right back. Maybe it was the bags under his eyes or how he pushed past her before she could say something sarcastic, but Isobel didn’t comment on his appearance despite having already thought of a dozen snide things to say.

No, she knew what the boy was going through more than most. Well, partially at least. Mortality, to her, was a bit different than most. But it was all she knew. And she feared for Leland, more than most.

For so long she didn’t care about what happened to herself. She had a singular goal in mind, revenge. And she got it. She took her revenge the moment she could, then simply existed. No friends, no family, no one to talk to. She was by herself, alone in thought and emotion.

For her, she had thrown herself into her job. She gained power and renown, all the while she continued to fall apart. People hated her, she hated people. They started distancing themselves from her as she pushed them farther away. She blamed it on people annoying her, but in reality she just had nothing to live for.

Her daughter was dead, her husband brutalized. And that was that. Her mortality didn’t matter after her revenge was taken.

Despite all of this, despite her past, she had recovered enough to see the cataclysmic rush to the end of her life. One day she would take on a fight she couldn’t handle. She wouldn’t even care. There was no job dangerous enough, no fight that couldn’t be won. Not to her, not to her until Leland came along.

Well, Leland, Jude, and Glenny. Following them had triggered something, something that put her path out before her and made her reevaluate herself.

So when Isobel watched Leland walk past her, something roared in the back of her mind. Her hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him to the wall. Cracks radiated out, wood and drywall broken and crumbling. She didn’t care, not when she had something this important to say.

“What—”

“What are you doing?” she asked. But before he could answer, she continued to speak, “You fight a few battles, kill a few bad guys? And what? Think you are invincible? Well you’re not. You’re not.”

The bags under Leland’s eyes disappeared in the way of confusion. He squirmed under her grip, thinking pain should be coming. But it didn’t. Strange.

He shook his head, “What are you doing—”

“Don’t be like me, Leland.” Isobel let go of him, her hand remaining on his collar for just a moment. “Just… don’t…”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Leland didn’t speak in anger.

Sure, he was angry. Incredibly so. But for all of the months he had known the Huntress, she had never sounded so defeated. She had apologized once before, and that was a major shock. But this? Looking like a beaten dog? Inching away from him like she was afraid? That was new and much more scary.

So when Isobel’s eyes widened and she turned away, Leland felt something was truly wrong. “Talk to me,” he whispered. “What just happened?”

She didn’t answer and instead walked away. He followed, of course. All the way to the shipyard he followed and prodded her with questions. Each question made her face shrink, her frown deepen, and her guilt rise.

They handed their tickets to one of the ship’s crew members, who then led them to their cabins. They were across the hallway from one another, and Isobel went right into hers and closed the door. Leland stood there completely baffled, the crew member ignoring him and leaving.

They departed Noir Stone a few hours later and sailed for two whole days before Isobel stepped out of her cabin. Leland had been waiting for this and instantly followed. But, as she was much faster than him, she just disappeared in the ship’s bowels.

He just didn’t get it. Being ignored was one thing. But being run from?

“Isobel,” Leland said in the direction she had disappeared. “I don’t know what’s up with you, but you can tell me…” He didn’t like how that sounded, so he quickly added, “I might make fun of you, though, so maybe don’t?”

Gah, that wasn’t much better.

Though somehow, the shadows shifted and Isobel stood before Leland, her cheeks wet with tears. He flinched at the sight, and she noticed. For a moment she knew she had made a mistake and quickly hardened herself back into the monster that was – is – the Huntress. But then that moment ended, and possibly even the “Huntress” with it.

“My daughter died,” she announced, her voice raw. “And I almost died too.”

Leland nodded slowly. He already knew that, but he didn’t interrupt.

“There was no single enemy, but I was one bad fight away from dying. One slip, one bad habit shining through my countless good ones. And I would be dead.” She tried to smile, but it broke instantly. “And I didn’t care. Why should I? I had nothing to live for… That was why they allowed me to operate solo. Not because I was a strong enough fighter, but because if I was killed, other Inquisitors wouldn’t be taken out in the crossfire.

“I was a liability to others and myself. But the High Inquisitors could live with that. And I could too.”

Isobel shook her head. “But I— I can’t anymore. I don’t want to die.”

Leland quietly asked, “And you thought I was the same way? That I didn’t care about my health?”

“You’ve been in more deadly fights than anyone your age has the right to be in,” she muttered. “You walked into battle with a Harbinger that could kill you by blinking and threatened him. No sane person would do that.”

“So what? You think I’m suicidal?”

“No. I think you have a hero complex.”

Leland scoffed at that. “That is far from the truth. And why do you care, huh? What is this sudden change in you?”

She looked at him like he was dumb. “Don’t change the subject. This is about you.”

“Me!? Me? Really? Are you sure you’re not going insane? Because that is just insane.”

“You look like how I did when I first joined the Inquisitors. Lost in thought in a dark room. Brushing off others. Uncaring of how you look or appear.”

Leland couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you being serious right now? I wasn’t sitting in that dark room because I wanted to! I didn’t notice the lamp burning out because I still hear its screams!”

Isobel recoiled. “What?”

“Back in Noir Stone! That dead body wasn’t just a dead body! His soul was still there and I tried to help it pass on! And it screamed at me like I was the one who killed it! Like I was some monster for even attempting to help it! It didn’t want to move on! It didn’t want to leave its life behind! It didn’t want to die!”

Leland looked up. “But it did,” he whispered. “Just like that. Dead.”

Isobel watched Leland carefully. His eyes were beading with tears, his chest heaving with horrid shudders. He wasn’t plagued by indifference like she was. No, he was plagued by something far worse, something completely opposite. He wanted to live, and he finally saw the line of death.

“Oh.”

Leland twitched, his eyes darting to her. “’Oh?’”

“I was wrong. I thought you…”

“Were suicidal?”

“Well… yes,” she mutter—

“Are you kidding me!? Me? Really? After everything I’ve done to get home! After everything we’ve been through?”

Isobel frowned. She did not like that tone. “So what if I was wrong? It’s not like I hurt you.”

“You broke a wall slamming me into it!”

“And? Are you hurt?”

“Well… no… But that doesn’t matter! Why do you go to violence as a first instinct? Just talk to me!” Leland also let out a string of curses, all aimed at Isobel’s stupidity.

She cursed back, making sure her volume was just louder than his.

Internally, Leland was glad. His fears for Isobel had been wiped away and he enthusiastically continued his yelling match with her. It was kind of fun when all of the strangeness left their words. Eventually they started yelling about nonsensical things, like bringing up an old argument about how Leland didn’t perfectly execute a battle against some monster in the Archon Valley. He, of course, countered with his own view of the battle and how he was still much weaker and inexperienced than her.

Isobel got into it too, finding her hardened mask of “the Huntress” was nowhere to be seen despite yelling and being stiff with emotion. It wasn’t fun for her, rather it was comfortable. Which might have been more strange for her, since when was the last time she was comfortable?

In the end, Leland still felt horrible about the lost soul but also not. He wasn’t sure, but if a soul appeared on the ship, he felt he would be able to talk with it. At least until it screamed at him. That was a sound he would never forget.

Isobel also felt a bit better. A weight had lifted from her as a chained box had been unlocked. She had peeked inside but she was far from fully opening it. Still, knowing that the box wasn’t lost was nice. Yeah, it was nice.

She didn’t let Leland know about any of this, however. She had already been too unstable and reckless in front of him. Regardless of what revelations she had next, she would not be allowing Leland to be part of it. It was her path to walk, her decisions to make, and her future to live.

Meanwhile, the Wave Slicer made its way to Shoutwell.