Meanwhile,
CLING. CLING.
The sharp sound of metal clashing echoed through the night above a massive bridge on the southern edge of Makazhar City.
Two figures faced off beneath the dim glow of the bridge lamps.
One of them wore a black uniform with a hood and mask—his posture tense but controlled.
The other stood calmly across from him.
A man with white hair and yellow eyes that glowed faintly in the dark. A brown robe hung loosely around his body. Flames burned in both of his hands.
(Elemental-Fire) Basic Magic : Fireball.
WOSSHHH!
The blazing projectile shot forward.
The man in black moved instantly.
He twisted his body and dashed sideways, the fireball exploding behind him and sending a wave of heat across the bridge.
BOOOM!
Smoke rose from the cracked asphalt.
Across from him, the brown-robed man smiled.
"Not bad."
His yellow eyes narrowed slightly.
"But still slower than I expected."
The brown-robed man raised his hand again. Flames spiraled around his fingers like living serpents.
The man in black lowered his stance slightly.
He was Irvan. Tall. Lean. He looked to be in his late twenties.
His skin carried a faint dark tone. His eyes, slightly rounded, were locked firmly onto his opponent. A thin blade glimmered in his hand.
"Fahruk," Irvan said quietly. "So you finally show yourself."
Fahruk, the brown-robed man, chuckled.
"Hahaha… so you know me."
The flames in his hands burned brighter.
"But that's not very surprising. After all… I know you too, Irvan."
Irvan was slightly surprised. It was natural for him to recognize Fahruk, since the man made no effort to conceal his appearance.
But the fact that Fahruk recognized him despite all of his concealment was unexpected.
Irvan chose not to respond.
Instead—
He vanished.
WHOOSH!
His body blurred forward with explosive speed. His blade flashed toward Fahruk's neck.
SLASH!
But—
BUFF!
A burst of fire exploded between them.
Irvan was forced back several meters, his boots scraping across the bridge.
Fahruk remained standing where he was.
Untouched.
"So that's it?" Fahruk said lightly. "The strength of someone who holds the rank of commander in that organization?"
He slowly tilted his head.
"Disappointing."
Irvan tightened his grip on the blade in his hand. This time, he was slightly provoked.
"Seems like you know quite a lot about us," he said.
Fahruk studied him for a moment.
Then a slow smile spread across his face.
"Of course… it's not that hard to find out who you people are."
He raised a small flame between his fingers.
"Anyway… I think I know quite a bit about you. About your life."
The fire flickered lazily.
"Like… information about your older brother."
He tapped his chin as if trying to remember.
"What was his name again? Udam? Aidam? Didam?"
Irvan froze.
Just for a fraction of a second. But this time, the shock was far deeper.
Fahruk knew something Irvan had buried very carefully—something only a handful of people inside the organization even knew.
That was enough.
Fahruk's smile widened.
"Yes… that one."
"The man who screamed so loudly while begging for mercy."
Irvan's eyes widened. His breathing stopped.
It seemed Fahruk didn't just know about his brother, he knew what had happened that night.
"You remember it too, don't you?" Fahruk said softly, his voice dripping with mockery.
"That night."
"The thugs."
"The knife."
"His stomach."
He spoke each word deliberately, one by one.
Each one dragging Irvan back into the darkest memory he had tried to bury.
The way he spoke felt like repeated stabs—
Digging deeper and deeper into Irvan's past.
Fahruk smiled cruelly.
"And the little boy who could do nothing but watch the person he loved most lose his life."
"Stop!" Irvan barked. His voice thundered across the bridge.
But Fahruk only laughed.
"Hahaha! Why should I stop?"
The flame in his hand grew larger.
"You don't want to hear the story of someone you loved?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"Why? Do you regret it?"
His smile widened.
"Because you were too weak to protect him? Haha."
The firelight flickered across his face.
"He kept calling your name."
"Begging you to run from that horrible place."
Fahruk's voice lowered, mimicking the desperate tone.
"Brother… brother… run…"
"STOP!"
Irvan shouted again. His voice cracked across the bridge. His body trembled. Memories he had tried to bury clawed their way back to the surface.
A brother he loved. His protector. The only family who had ever given him happiness. Crying. Screaming.
Thugs everywhere—attacking, slashing at his brother again and again.
And him—
Too weak. Only able to watch the brutal death unfold before his eyes, unable to do anything.
Dark energy began to leak from Irvan's body. At first it was faint. Then it grew thicker. Like smoke pouring out of a cracked furnace.
Fahruk's eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Oho… So it still works."
Irvan's breathing became uneven. His eyes slowly turned crimson.
"You really are fragile," Fahruk continued mockingly. "All it takes is mentioning that useless brother of yours—"
CRACK.
The bridge beneath Irvan's feet shattered. His head slowly lowered. His shoulders trembled. Tears slid down his face.
"…You."
His voice sounded distorted. Low. Unstable. The black energy around his body surged violently.
Fahruk laughed louder.
"Yes. That's it. Let it out. Show me what happens when you lose control. Hahaha."
Flames ignited around Fahruk's hands once more.
"That would be interesting, wouldn't it?"
Irvan slowly raised his head. Part of his pupils had turned crimson. Something black began creeping across the whites of his eyes.
Rage. Pain. Grief. All of it twisting together inside him.
Fahruk pointed at him mockingly.
"Go on then. Show me. Let your emotions consume you."
His laughter echoed across the empty bridge.
"Become the demon inside you. Go berserk—just like the fate of beings like us."
"Stop pretending to be good. Stop trying to help those weak humans."
His smile grew colder.
"After all… you couldn't save him back then. And you... still can't save anyone now."
Provocation after provocation poured from Fahruk's mouth.
And Irvan—
He was starting to lose control.
Then—
DUARRR!!
A sudden burst of energy slammed into the bridge, shattering parts of the deserted structure. Thick smoke billowed from the explosion, swallowing the entire scene.
"What just happened?!" Fahruk's panicked voice rang out.
But the smoke from the blast was too dense. No one could see what had occurred.
As the smoke slowly thinned, Fahruk was revealed.
His cloak was torn in several places, exposing patches of pale skin.
His neck was gripped tightly. His body was lifted off the ground by someone—
Al.
"Sorry I'm late. Tonight's patrol turned out to be more troublesome than I expected," Al said calmly, as if he had simply appeared out of nowhere.
He glanced at the man in his grasp.
Fahruk was a late-stage Adept-level magician, already classified as a Calamity-rank cursed human—something Al had long been familiar with after years of navigating the supernatural world.
No wonder Irvan, even though he was at the early-stage Master level, was struggling.
Facing a Calamity-rank cursed human was basically the same as going up against a Grandmaster like Al.
"So it's you, Fahruk. I didn't expect we'd be meeting tonight," Al said casually, shaking his head.
"You…!" Fahruk muttered as he finally recognized the one who had attacked him.
He didn't know the man's identity. But the aura—
An aura that couldn't be properly read, yet carried an overwhelming pressure.
Even with limited knowledge, that alone was enough to draw a conclusion. The man before him was one of those standing at the very peak.
One of the few beings capable of rivaling his master.
"Tch… I didn't think you'd involve yourself in something like this," Fahruk said.
"Involve myself?" Al replied lazily.
"You might've caused a lot more trouble for us if I hadn't shown up."
He shrugged slightly.
"Besides… I've been a little bored with my new life lately. Things have been rather irritating."
Al looked down at him.
"Seems like you might be the perfect outlet for my frustrations tonight."
A smile curled across his face—
One that was far too cold. Far too frightening.
"After all… psychos like you are better off serving as my punching bags than running free in this world."
"What? What did you just say?" Fahruk gasped, panic flooding him.
He knew the terror of the figure before him.
Even now, with his neck locked in Al's grip, it felt like he was already on the edge of death—let alone becoming a punching bag.
"Hmph? Why? Afraid?" Al asked casually, as if teasing a child.
"Af… afraid?" Fahruk stammered, his breath caught in the chokehold. "Hahaha… okay, yes. Honestly, yes. But even if you killed me… it would still be an honor to die by someone like you."
He struggled slightly, trying to pry Al's hands off with both of his.
"Still… doesn't it tarnish your reputation? Coming down to fight someone weak like me? Isn't that embarrassing? Haha," he jeered.
Al yawned lazily. "You are skilled with your words," he commented flatly.
"But… do you think I care?" His eyes sharpened, cold and merciless. "Sadly… my style isn't about looking good for anyone, like your master. So… prepare yourself for—"
A cruel smile spread across his face.
"...Death."
The weight of that word hit Fahruk like a hammer. It felt as if Al had already sentenced him, even before striking.
But still, Fahruk gritted his teeth, smirking defiantly.
"Haha! Only if you can!"
And without another word,
CRACKKK!!
Al twisted his hand violently, aiming to snap Fahruk's neck.
But—
BWOOSSHH!!
A small blast erupted, gray smoke flooding Al's vision. Yet his grip did not loosen.
When the haze cleared, only a charred black piece of wood remained in his hand.
Al glanced at it, then toward the far side of the bridge—Fahruk stood there, clutching his neck in pain.
"Ukhh… I… survived," Fahruk said bitterly between coughs. "Just escaping your grip already drained nearly half my energy. You're terrifying."
He raised his face with a mocking expression.
"But unfortunately… my life isn't in your hands, haha."
"Are you sure about that?" Al asked coldly.
He moved forward to strike, but—
"Master," Michaelis called out.
Two of Al's aides arrived, clearly struggling to restrain Irvan, who was acting… erratically.
Michaelis activated a shimmering barrier, attempting to trap Irvan and prevent him from escaping the area.
Meanwhile, Sebastian conjured magical chains to bind Irvan's body, flowing currents of electricity through them in an effort to disrupt his nerves and suppress his consciousness as he teetered on the edge of going berserk.
Al looked between them, then back to Fahruk. His priority for tonight was clear.
"Hahaha… looks like the fight ends here," Fahruk said. From his tattered cloak, he pulled out a small stone—its surface marbled in black and white. "Farewell, gentlemen."
The stone emitted a faint black-and-white glow, opening a swirling black rift beside him. It pulled his body in, as if swallowing him whole.
"You think you can escape?" Al growled.
He hurled the piece of wood in his hand toward Fahruk, but the man vanished before it could hit.
"Damn it," Al cursed.
"We even chose to ignore them and let them do whatever they wanted. But they're the ones who came and messed with our group." he grumbled.
"Should we add 'exterminate them' to our patrol objectives? Hmph... What a bunch of psychos."
He could only shake his head.
He then turned toward Irvan, whose right eye now burned a fierce crimson, the whites of his eyes completely blackened, tears streaming freely down both cheeks.
Al walked forward, effortlessly passing through the barrier. Without hesitation, he placed his palm against Irvan's forehead.
"You still have a long way to go, Irvan," Al said, his voice calm but commanding. "Endure it. This is going to hurt."
SKRIWWWRR!!
A surge of golden-blue electricity coursed from Al's hand, wracking Irvan's body.
"Arrrggghhh!" Irvan screamed, thrashing under the relentless shock.
It continued for what felt like an eternity… until Irvan finally slumped unconscious. His body appeared unharmed—only his soul had borne the full impact.
Al looked at his palm; it was darkened, as if burned. Whatever he had done carried a heavy cost.
"Good work," he said to his two subordinates, who had already deactivated their spells.
Sebastian bowed. "Master, forgive us… we weren't able to do much to fully neutralize his berserk state—"
"It's fine. Successfully restraining him is enough," Al replied.
"Besides… berserk is already a risk for people like us. It's one thing for those who try to contain it, and another for the one going berserk," he added.
He stared at his own hand, still throbbing with pain.
"I, too… still have many sacrifices to make because of that. That's the fate of people like us."
Both subordinates nodded, though unease lingered in their hearts.
"Return to Ataris with Irvan. Help him rest until he stabilizes. His berserk potential is still there. Besides the four troublesome girls, you two are the only ones I can count on," Al instructed.
They nodded again, Michalies hefting Irvan over his shoulder.
Al nodded back, letting out a long breath as he stared at the sky, where dawn was slowly approaching.
"I know this is a long road…" Al murmured.
"I don't know which path is right—trying to integrate like we are now, believing there's a cure to remove this curse…"
His eyes sharpened.
"…fighting for tyranny and revolution like they do, or disappearing entirely and admitting we're no longer human."
He sighed.
"But in the end, we are human. And fighting for who we are… is what matters."
The subordinates glanced at him, and the doubts lingering in their hearts gradually faded. They felt... reassured.
They understood that beings like them were no longer truly considered human.
Even the term "cursed human" was already a compromise, preserving the word "human" only in name.
Deep down, they knew the truth. There was barely a place for them in this world.
That was why every Cursed Human dreamed of freedom in their own way, pursuing their own ideals and beliefs.
Unfortunately, those ideals rarely aligned. And more often than not, they became the very reason Cursed Humans ended up clashing with one another.
Groups like Al's, who pursued integration and a cure, were small and unpopular.
Compared to those chasing tyranny and breaking away from the world, their numbers were weak.
That, of course, was a threat to their group. A threat that could easily overwhelm them.
Cursed humans fighting each other, WMA watching… and who knows what even bigger challenges were waiting out there.
But they trusted that with Al on their side, they could survive it.
With a final nod, the three of them departed.
Al watched as they disappeared into the night before shifting his gaze toward the surrounding area.
His eyes swept across the damage left behind. Then, raising a hand, he began weaving a simple spell to repair the worst of it.
"I hope this helps with that grand plan..." he murmured.
His gaze drifted toward the distant city lights.
"And to make any of it possible, I first need to succeed in becoming part of what they call a family."