Unfazed by the vengeful spirits swarming him, King Harold stood ramrod straight, his hands resting on the pommel of an invisible sword.
The unremarkable crown on his head suddenly pulsed, unleashing waves of incandescent light that pierced through the spectral forms. The spirits and the curse they carried dissolved into nothingness.
"No fucking way!"
From a distance, Torin's face went pale, a mask of pure disbelief. He remembered the Clown, Ogu, being crystal clear when he sold him the cursed item. It was supposed to cripple even a full-fledged arch lord, let alone a mere lord. But the damn thing had fizzled out like a cheap party trick.
This was his ace in the hole for killing King Harold. With his trump card now useless, his mind was already screaming at him to bail.
