"But are we really sure? What happens if we decide to trust him?" another asked, his voice hesitant.
"It's too late to back out," murmured the third officer, who seemed a little older than the others. "The records show that his connection to these events runs deeper than originally thought. If we don't give him what he demands, we could all be in danger."
"We might also feel safer if we take every possible security measure once we hand over the artifact," added the youngest officer, rubbing his forehead as if the whole situation was becoming too much for him. "But we must never forget that this man is not who he claims to be."
A heavy moment of silence fell over the room as everyone present considered the inevitable.
"We'll give him the artifact," the oldest officer finally said, his voice firm and determined. "But we must be prepared. And we must ensure all resources are in place to maintain control."
The others nodded. It wasn't a decision they had made lightly, but they had no other choice.
The scene changed abruptly as the massive SWAT cars and armored vehicles began to move. Their engines roared through the streets, their gigantic wheels spun across the asphalt, and the entire convoy seemed like an unstoppable, technological threat. The vehicles were black, with thick armor plating that reflected the light from the streetlights. The symbols of the special forces were emblazoned on the sides, and masked soldiers stood on the roofs of the cars, their weapons at the ready. The noise of the engines and the metallic clang of the tank tracks echoed through the air, making the atmosphere seem even more threatening.
"It's starting. All or nothing," muttered one of the commanders sitting in one of the lead vehicles. His voice was distorted by the radio as he scanned the rest of the convoy with a sharp eye. "Ready for the handover."
The convoy began moving with precision, as if they were driving into battle. Along the roads beside the vehicles were other vehicles, camera trucks, and live feeds from all corners of the world. All that mattered now was the handover of the artifact. And everyone wanted to record the moment, everyone wanted to witness the unimaginable. The air was heavy with anticipation.
"This is it," the commander said again as he looked out the window and saw the target ahead. "You know what's at stake. Nothing can go wrong."
The roads were closed, and all traffic had come to a standstill. The tank continued to convoy as they approached the handover site, every step a part of a massive chess game. And amid this massive deployment, few things were clear: No one could be sure what would happen next. The tension was palpable, and the unpredictable hung in the air.
A mixture of determination and uncertainty could be seen in the people's eyes. The world was watching, and what was happening was far more than just a transfer of power. It was a ceremony of power that would change the course of history. Yet no one could be sure what this moment truly meant.
The motorcycles and armored vehicles raced toward the building, which stood in the darkness like an abandoned colossus amidst the rain. The rain pelted incessantly against the vehicles and the gleaming helmets of the special forces. The ground vibrated beneath the massive vehicles as they came to a stop. Moments later, the door opened, and the first soldiers stepped out, ready to secure the building.
With quick, precise movements, the men took up their positions. Assault rifles were pointed in the direction of the building as the elite unit formed up around it. Their equipment gleamed in the dim light, each step precise and controlled, as if they had already rehearsed every possible scenario a hundred times.
"There's no way out," a soldier muttered into his communications gear. "Hold all lines. No movement without a signal."
At the edge of the building, about 20 meters away, stood the third terrorist, carrying no weapon, no protective suit, and no equipment of any kind. Only a cold calm surrounded him as he stepped into the middle of the street with slow, calculated steps. Not a flinch, not a hesitation. He looked up as the massive vehicles came to a halt and the image of a dozen heavily armed men unfolded before him.
"Stop!" The command rang out from the chest of a government official who stepped out of one of the vehicles. He was the one coordinating the transfer of the artifact. The soldiers quickly drew their assault rifles into position, but the terrorist remained calm. Without a word, he pulled his hands from his pockets and held them out, as if waiting for the artifact, which was now in the official's hands.
"Why are you taking it from me anyway?" the terrorist asked, an icy smile spreading across his face. "You don't know what it can do. You don't know if it makes me a god or the ruler of the fucking underworld. But one thing is certain: you have no idea what you're doing here."
The official was unnerved, his hand shaking as he held the artifact toward the terrorist. "I... we have to give it to you. It was the government's decision."
"Yes," the terrorist said with a cutting grin, "the government's decision. Of course."
At that moment, the terrorist took a step forward, ignoring the soldiers' guns still aimed at him. Without hesitation, he grabbed the artifact and held it in his hands. He examined it for a moment, as if seeing it properly for the first time.
"I'm not just holding you," he said calmly. "I've also hacked all the television stations in the world. This is being broadcast live, everyone will see it. You have this in my hands now. And now you're all dead."
He turned to the side, the artifact firmly in his hand, and the soldiers stared at him with a mixture of fear and astonishment. But the terrorist was undeterred. Without another glance at the soldiers, he held the artifact above his head and waited while the rain continued to pour down on him.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers yelled, "Why don't we just shoot him? He has the artifact!" The government official turned calmly, his expression serious. "First, we don't know what he can do with it. He could be dangerous." But before the officer could continue, the terrorist interrupted. "Second, only I can deactivate the bombs. The bombs in the city are still going off, and you need me to stop them." His voice was calm but firm. "So, think carefully about what you do now."
The terrorist continued to hold the crystal in his hands, his gaze fixed on it, as if recognizing in it the essence of the universe itself. Then he raised his head, his eyes sparkling with ominous triumph. "Unfortunately," he said calmly, almost casually, "there were never any bombs."
The soldier commander, sensing the trembling in the ranks, roared at the top of his lungs, "Shoot!"
The soldiers obeyed immediately, a deafening roar filling the air as volleys of bullets blasted from their weapons. But to their horror, the bullets simply bounced off him, as if protected by an invisible wall. The terrorist didn't even move, letting the bullets roll off him like raindrops.
Suddenly, his body, encrusted with crystal, began to shimmer. Slowly, he rose into the air, his silhouette like a deity rising above the battlefield. The silence that followed was even more terrifying than the roar of the gunfire before.
Aurora and Schäfer, still frozen, stared stunned at the screen in front of them. Their minds were blank, only the pain of losing their children gnawing at them, paralyzing them.
Then Aurora whispered, her voice barely more than a broken whisper: "The curse..."
Schäfer didn't turn his head from the scene, but his voice sounded harsh as he spoke: "He's always lived."
Aurora's eyes widened as realization washed over her. "We never defeated him... He was there the whole time."
Schäfer nodded slowly, his throat dry. "And we made him stronger."
On the screen, the terrorist raised his arms, the crystal in his hand glowing like a small sun. "You thought you could kill me," he said in a thunderous voice that carried even across the screen. "But you never understood what I really am."
The truth struck Aurora and Schäfer like a thunderclap. The curse had never died. It had never ceased to exist.
As the terrorist continued to hover in the air, the crystal in his hand began to emit an eerie orange glow. Within seconds, the light spread as if it wanted to swallow the world. Everywhere, orange domes closed over cities, villages, forests, and oceans—a glowing prison that encompassed the entire Earth.
Aurora and Schäfer watched in horror, unable to move or speak. They could only watch as the dome slowly drained the people of their strength. The first ones began to tremble, slumping to their knees. People collapsed in the streets, their eyes glassy and empty.
The flickering of the ships on the monitors revealed that they, too, were affected. Airplanes plummeted from the sky, ships drifted helplessly on the seas while their crews fell motionless. Everywhere, life fell silent.
The terrorist—or rather, the curse—hovered over it all like an all-powerful being. His presence grew with every moment, his power increasing as life around him faded.
Aurora's voice was little more than a weak, desperate whisper: "What is this...?"
Schäfer shook his head, his gaze fixed on the screen, where more and more people fell to the ground. "This is the end."
Finally, the last person in sight toppled over. The world seemed to stand still. No movement, no sound, only the unnatural silence of a dead earth.
Amidst this emptiness, the curse spoke, its voice like echoing thunder that seemed to reach the entire world:
"See you in the third world."
***
Aurora blinked against the bright rays of light piercing the dense trees. A cold wind blew through the branches, causing the wet raindrops to trickle down onto her. Schäfer stood beside her, his hand shielding his eyes as he gathered his bearings.
"Why are we... here again?" he asked finally, his voice quiet but with a hint of despair.
Aurora looked at him, hesitating before answering. "I don't know... but... I know the curse has done something. Something... big."
In silence, they began to move through the forest. The cold bit at their hands and faces, but they ignored the feeling, driven by a vague urgency. The rain had softened the ground, and the muddy crunch of their footsteps was the only sound breaking the silence.
After what felt like an eternity, they emerged from the forest and saw the hospital in the distance. It was the same building they remembered, only... it seemed even more pristine, even newer.
Inside, the atmosphere was strangely quiet. The reception area was empty except for a single young woman standing behind the counter. Aurora and Schäfer approached them, and Schäfer cleared his throat.
"What day is it?" he asked in a strained voice.
The woman glanced briefly at a small clock in front of her, then leaned over and whispered something in Aurora's ear.
Schäfer's face froze, and he turned slowly to Aurora. "This... this is Lukas's birthday," he said finally.
Aurora's eyes widened. "That can't be."
Schäfer nodded slowly and then asked the woman, "Excuse me, I'm looking for a woman. She's my sister. Could you please search the system for her?" He mentioned a name that seemed familiar to Aurora.
The woman typed furiously on her keyboard, but then frowned. "I'm sorry, but this woman doesn't exist in our files."
Aurora and Schäfer looked at each other with a mixture of horror and confusion. "Lukas's mother... she doesn't exist," Aurora whispered.
"That doesn't make sense," Schäfer murmured. "None of this makes sense."
He turned abruptly and walked outside, his mind racing. Aurora followed him, stopping near the hospital while Schäfer walked a few meters further until he found a secluded spot. He knelt in the wet ground and pulled out a small device.
"If I still know the police password..." he muttered, his fingers hurriedly tapping the keys. He hacked into the system and began searching for her existence—for Aurora, for himself.
What he found made him pause in shock. "We don't exist," he whispered. His voice was barely audible, but the words seemed to echo through the cold. "Neither you nor I... we don't exist in this world."
Aurora stood behind him, her face pale, looking at him as reality slowly sank in.
Aurora and Schäfer left the hospital. The streets were deserted, and the rain had turned into a fine drizzle, making the air heavy and chilly. It was quiet, eerily quiet.
"It's unbelievable," said Schäfer, who with every step felt more and more like he was trapped in another world. "No family, no children. We no longer exist. Our lives, our deeds... they have been erased."
Aurora looked at him, her eyes tired, yet still determined. "Maybe we don't have a choice. The curse... it shaped us. Maybe... there's simply no going back for us."
"And then what?" Schäfer snorted. "What do we do when we are nothing anymore? When everything that defined us simply no longer exists?"
They continued walking in silence, the rain as present in their thoughts as what they had been through. But suddenly, Schäfer tugged on her hand, his eyes fixed on a man walking toward them from a distance.
"Joshua," Aurora murmured. The figure had a familiar bearing, but they both knew something was wrong.
"It's too early for this..." Schäfer whispered, stepping forward as they walked down the street. But when they turned the next corner, the man was gone.
"Damn!" Schäfer cursed. "I could have sworn it was him."
Aurora looked around. "He has to be around here somewhere. We have to find him."
The next moment was pierced by an icy cold. Suddenly, someone emerged from the shadows. A stranger turned to them with a strange grin.
"Are you looking for me?" he asked in a voice that sounded almost like a sneer.
Schäfer rushed at him, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him closer. "What's going on? Who the hell are you?"
The stranger began to laugh, a sinister, evil laugh. "You think you finally get it? You haven't understood anything yet." And at that moment, his form began to change.
Schäfer froze. The man before them suddenly became something neither human nor comprehensible. His skin took on a darker color, his eyes glowed an unnatural orange, and his body contorted into something unrecognizable as human.
"Joshua?" Aurora whispered in disbelief.
"I am not Joshua," came the disfigured creature's voice. "I am the curse that afflicts this world."
Schäfer jumped back a step, his anger boiling over. "Why are you here? What are you?" His voice boomed as he screamed in the Curse's face.
"I am humanity's punishment," the creature replied, its voice now deep and piercing.
The Curse stood before them as its form slowly dissolved into dust, drifting into the air. The words it had spoken still echoed in their minds. "I have to go again," it had said, and when it vanished, it left only the cool silence.
Aurora and Schäfer stood there as reality hit them. It was as if they were trapped in another dimension, with no clear path forward. For a moment, there was absolute silence.
"What was that?" Schäfer asked finally, his voice muffled and slightly hoarse. "What did he really mean?"
Aurora closed her eyes to absorb the meaning of his words. When she spoke again, her voice was almost a whisper. "He said he was humanity's punishment. If he is the punishment, then he must wipe out all the people who still exist in this world."
Schäfer took a step back, as if recoiling from this realization. "That means the people we met... that we hurt... they no longer exist. They were wiped out. But... he... he said something else."
Aurora nodded. "Yes. He said that when we die, we are reborn in this world. Not just us, but every human killed by the hand of the curse. But if a human is killed by another hand that isn't the curse, they won't be reborn into this world."
Schäfer slowly understood. "That means... everyone we've killed, everyone who died at our hand, will be... reborn, but not in this world. They go to the next world if they die at the hand of the curse... but not if they die at someone else's."
Aurora looked at him, her eyes darkened by the weight of the thought. "Yes. The curse weakens the more people die at other people's hands. If the curse can punish fewer people because they are no longer reincarnated in this world, it will have less power. And eventually, it will exist only in memories, in stories, but no longer in reality."
Schäfer took a few steps, his thoughts swirling. "So... we have it in our hands. If we keep killing, the curse will grow stronger, but if other people do it... then it will weaken?"
"Exactly," Aurora replied. "But therein lies the dilemma. If we want to stop the curse, we must act ourselves. We must kill with our own hands the people it can still punish. But the curse lives on if we don't comply. If other people take over the curse's work, they will be born in another world, and we will lose control."
"We can't stop it," Schäfer murmured as the gravity of the situation hit him. "The only way to free ourselves is the curse itself. It's what holds the world in its grip. But who will help us if we do everything we can to end it?"
"No one," Aurora said calmly. "Because only we can stop it by continuing to act. But not out of revenge. Not out of hatred. It's about restoring balance."
They stood there, looking at the vast, empty space around them. No one had told them it would end this way. "But what happens to us? Will we truly be freed in the end?" Schäfer asked quietly.
Aurora shook her head, her answer almost a whisper. "Perhaps never. But that's the price we must pay."