At once, a familiar translucent screen flickered into view, displaying my personal status:
❰Status❱
Name: Lucian Blackthorn
Level: 7
Strength: 2
Agility: 2
Stamina: 3
Essence: 287
Blessing: ❰Blessing of Chaos❱ – Imperfect Dexterity
Let out a giddy laugh before I could stop myself. My status had indeed changed. The "Essence" value, which I recalled being 137 not long ago, now stood at 287, reflecting the points I'd gained from the relic and perhaps from dispelling the curse. And where once "Status" had listed Medusa's Curse, it now showed something new: a Blessing.
A blessing… My blessing.
In the world I found myself in, only the chosen followers of deities received divine blessings. These blessings were gifts of power, bestowing magic, strength, and strange abilities. I had seen blessed priests call down miracles and paladins survive mortal wounds. For a wretch like me to have a blessing was unthinkable.
Yet there it was: "Blessing of Chaos – Imperfect Dexterity." The cultist's words echoed in my mind: "Blessings will be unlocked…" Could it be that I had triggered some pact with that mysterious Chaos entity by holding that staff and earning those Essence points? Was I now somehow… favored by it?
My thoughts swirled with questions, but one truth shone clear—I was free.
A wild, exuberant energy surged through me. For two years, Medusa's Curse had chained my body and desires. Now the floodgates were open, and my long-suppressed vitality roared back.
Grinning like an idiot, I tore away the bandage around my neck—the one that had covered the slave mark. I ran a finger over the skin there. The twisted snake brand was still visible but faint, as if scorched long ago and now mostly healed. It no longer burned with that hateful cold heat.
To further test the curse's absence, I turned my thoughts to something Medusa's spell had cruelly stifled: my manhood. Would that part of me truly come back to life?
I slid my hand down my abdomen, below the blanket, and gingerly brushed my fingertips along my groin. At the first tentative touch, I felt a stirring—a rush of blood responding eagerly. Within moments, I experienced a sensation I hadn't felt in years: a warm hardness rising under my palm.
A laugh—half disbelieving, half joyous—bubbled out of me. "Nice to see you again, little brother," I whispered with a broad smirk, echoing a lewd joke I'd heard mercenaries use. My manhood stood proudly at attention, as if to say Welcome back.