The area outside the ruins only differed slightly from the dark, seemingly endless, bowels of stone and death John was spawned into; however, with no ruined walls to block one's sight, the full horror of the goddess’s doomed world was on full display, illuminated gently by the moon’s abnormally potent light.

John walked through the ruins, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny as he recalled the stranger’s poor excuse for a plan. “That fucking madman, to think I let him talk me into this.”

Fear and uncertainty did not soil his heart, but John knew from how tense his body was and how strained his eyes were that he must've been pushing the level-up addiction to its absolute limits.

His mind wandered, thinking back to the conversation that led him to march out of what little safety the ruins offered practically defenseless.

“I have a plan, but it will hinge on you risking your life…as well as not dying.” The stranger spoke, his voice naught but a whisper barely moving the air around his mouth. “Luckily, there are only two accursed out there. one of them I could handle without an issue, but unluckily, the other is insanely dangerous, so, brat… I’ll need you to distract the weaker one while I handle the other, but you can’t get killed by it under any circumstances.”

With the addiction inhibiting his fears, John was left only with a feeling of confusion and a sinister sense of doubt towards the stranger’s words.

“Hold on, explain to me in detail what makes one accursed different from another. Is it just levels? Also, it’s not like I’m rearing to die, but what happens if I do?” John’s words were soft, but their sharp undertones were clearly felt by the stranger.

“Do you think I’m hiding stuff from ya or what?”

“yes”

“…”

Their conversation came to a screeching halt instantly. John, having experienced the consequences of ignoring his gut, spoke without holding back, emboldened by his lack of fear of the man who he knew could kill him instantly had he wished. But in a complete reversal of John’s expectations, the stranger cracked a smile after a tense moment of silence.

“So, this is the real you. The goddess’s little gift removed your restraints and now you have a fucking attitude…good, I hate people who aren’t straightforward, I’d rather be stabbed in the face than grazed in the back, wouldn’t you?”

The stranger’s wrinkled face, poorly illuminated by the rays of moonlight seeping through the cracks, returned to its regular, blank expression, although John could see the hint of a sad smile remaining after the fact.

“Fine, brat. I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

The sound of gentle footsteps entered John's ears, sending his consciousness back to the bleak present he hoped to ignore.

He turned around to see two figures facing him, their visage so horrible in its edifice that it would be dismissed by most as a lifeless work of body horror. They were not made of one flesh but of multiple desecrated bodies stitched together in a cruel mockery of life, unbefitting to walk a world even as defiled as that of the goddess.

Their limbs and torsos consisted of many pieces originating not of one species, but of many. Human, elf, dwarf, and demon, all conjoined in unholy matrimony, birthed by the foul soul magics of the elves.

And as if even their creators were writhing in disgust while shaping the mismatched flesh of their horrid abominations, their faces were hidden behind layers of fabrics and sigils written in a language unknown.

Had John not been shielded by the goddess’s curse concealed within the visage of a blessing, he would’ve soiled himself as if he were a newborn, and he was well aware of it.

“So, the old man wasn’t lying…you guys are ugly as hell, stitched together body and soul…the elves sure are much worse than we ever gave them credit for.” John’s words, while not intended to hide any fear, still came out shaken and weak for while he needed not battle any fear or anxiety, John was forced into holding his nearly uncontrollable urge to toss himself into the maw of doom in a futile attempt to level up, sending shivers throughout his body.

“Old. Thief. Liar. Coward. Hope. Tool. Worthless. Fix. Grace. Take. Give. Ours.”

John was expecting a reply, but he did not foresee that it would be so odd and eldritch, for it wasn’t one voice that spoke back to him, but many. Their utterances differed in subject, tone, and emotion, yet they all came from the same source. The weaker of the two accursed.

“We apologize for our friend, hero, they cannot control themselves, however, they speak true of your companion, he is naught but a liar and thief.” The words of apology came from the other accursed, and much like his companion, his voice too was fractured into many; however, unlike before, all of them spoke in unison, acting and even feeling as one.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a hero or anything, just a nobody who got tricked into coming to this world, and if you have any complaints about the old asshole, you can take it up with him.” The calm and mocking nature of John’s words did not go unnoticed by the accursed, who found it rather amusing.

“Strange. Your words are mired in an air of confidence, ah, it must be the work of the false goddess. Her boon, one of many, a shackle around the neck of those she convenes to her service. We have always pitied your ilk, used and tossed way by a deity they worshiped not.” The creature’s words were simple and slightly enigmatic, but they held true for the most part, John thought.

“GODDESS. LIAR. WAR. VICTORY. FORSAKEN. FAMILY. HOPE. DEATH. UNITY.” The poisonous voice of the other accursed filled the air, its tone dyed in madness.

The weaker of the accursed lunged at John, driven by the sudden and unexplained burst of rage and hatred.

“ANYTIME, YOU OLD BASTARD!!” John shouted, his legs moving by themselves to meet his attacker midway, fueled by the endless hunger for power forced upon him by a goddess long departed.

Out of the broken wrecks of constructions long destroyed, appeared the stranger, his movements lightning-fast as he entered the fray. With his ether blade drawn, he instantly attacked the stronger of the two accursed, pushing the monster back with a series of perfectly timed stabs and powerful spells.

The two battles commenced simultaneously, only to instantly scatter apart. John was getting overwhelmed, already having to resort to desperately dodging for his life; while the stranger’s attacks exuded power so immense it sent both him and his opponent to an entirely different battlefield ways off.

“Alright, now for the good part.” John jumped back, his lungs burning from the effort he exuded only to dodge for a few seconds, but the defiance and arrogance in his eyes faded not.

“[Bone.Curse.Axe]” The accursed took John's retreat as an opportunity to summon its weapon of choice, a dreadful axe crafted of the bones of creatures long rendered extinct by the relentless flames of war, shrouded in a miasma of death and decay.

“My turn, [Analysis].” John peered into the accursed status, seeing the difference in power between them firsthand. “This should be…manageable.”

“Time to use that thing.” John recalled the stranger’s words of caution and relentless complaining clearly as he pulled a small, fragile-looking glass ornament from his pocket. “I have less than 5 minutes, so you better finish your fight quickly and come help me, old man.”

With a tight grip and a warped smile on his face, John shattered the glass in his palm, sending small shards flying everywhere, dyeing his hand crimson red.

A rush of strength washed over John’s body, so empowering it made him feel as if he could stand toe to toe with the goddess herself. His blood rushed to his limbs, his hair stood on its end, and his muscles tensed up tightly enough they could burst at any second. John could hear the call of battle, and none was going to stop him from answering with fist and steel.

“Now, let’s put that immortality of yours to the test.”