Attribute– [Cursed].
Attribute Description– Curse of Unknown marks your soul, snatching your repose in exchange for a fate envied by none.
It was like someone had sounded the death knell for him. As if a gun had been put on his temples with a timer he didn't knew when would end.
The world suddenly went dark, even though he could clearly see the lights shifting around him. His mind felt light-headed.
He was falling.
The world felt silent, even though he could clearly hear the sound of his own gasps and wheezes as air refused to leave his lungs.
He couldn't breathe. Was he suffocating?
He sensed the thumping of boots as the soldier who had stood guard at the court's gate rushed in to check up on him. Words were spoken, but he couldn't make out what was said.
"Wh-ah-waa-? Another half gasp and a fit of coughing followed his broken words. He was hyperventilating.
Ah- the attribute.
Curse of Unknown marks your soul. The description of his attribute appeared before his eyes once again.
He finally understood what was happening to him. He tried to calm himself down. He had been here before. Knowing that he was from the outskirts, Raymond had insisted on teaching him some basic but useful breathing techniques, exactly to get out of situations like these.
Breathe in. He tried, but something went wrong and he choked, which quickly transitioned into a coughing fit a second later. another attempt filled his lungs with a shallow breath of air. The second one was deep and whole, and the third even better, slowly it transitioned into a steady rhythm of breathing.
His vision returned to normal, voices became sharper and the world around him started making sense again. One of the person around him—the guard— was helping him on his legs. Just then, his world started spining again. Forward felt like downward and he stumbled on his feets, causing panic to errupt around him once more.
"Master Ashoka? Sir, are you alright?" Getting a look at his pale face, and recognizing the features, the guard turned to the female servant standing beside him, "Hey, what are you doing just standing there? Get someone here who can help!"
"Don't." Ashoka groaned, putting a hand on the man's shoulder and using the leverage to finally get up straight. "Don't bother... I'm fine."
"But—"
"I said don't bother," He almost yelled the words, staring straight at the guard. "Is that so hard to understand?" His eyes shifted to the servant, then back to the guard, the former visibly flinching.
"Go back to your duties," He paused for second, before continuing, "and forget this ever happened." His hands and legs were still trembling, but he ordered them to disappear anyways. Not wanting to anger him further, the two quickly left, returning to their post.
With the two finally gone, ashoka took a shuddering breath and leaned backwards towards the wall. Feeling the cold texture of the stone through his clothes, he allowed his thoughts to wander once again in the chaotic whirlpool of emotion that was currently his mind.
Cursed, huh? What kind of twisted humor am I being subjected to? Is this some kind of evil alternative to the [Fated] attribute? Hehe, if the name of the attribute hadn't given me a heart attack, the mention of the unknown surely did half of the job.
If [Lucky] was the positive side, and [Fated] the neutral one, then [Cursed] would definitely be the evil twin of the former. ha...what a joke. I guess it's now my turn to become fate's plaything.
There was definitely some connections he could make with this new information, such as the link between unknown and this cursed attribute, which was strangely similar to [Fated], but his mind refused to collaborate, clutched by a deep existential terror everytime he tried to form any connection with the things he already knew. It seemed his mind had yet to recover. So, he summoned the runes to distract himself:
Name: Ashoka Parish
True Name:
Rank: Dormant
Memories:
Echoes:
Attributes: [Cursed], [Quasi-Proxy of The Nation of Disorder], [Beyonder], [Lawyer].
Attribute: [Cursed]
"..."
Attribute: [Quasi-Proxy of The Nation of Disorder]
Attribute Description: You are the quasi-proxy of the Nation of Disorder. Your aura is comparable to a king.
Quasi? So there's level to this? Would it evolve to a half or a full proxy after I finish this nightmare?
Attribute: [Beyonder]
Attribute Description: You walk a path to power different than most, yet similar at the core.
Attribute: [Lawyer].
Attribute Description: Your words carry the faint weight of judgement. When presenting an argument or defence, your voice subtly influences the minds of others, nudging them toward believing your reasoning. The stronger and more logical the argument, the harder it is to refute
Aspect: [Son of chaos].
Aspect Description: Chaos gave birth to order, and order came with its own shadow. And between both lies the uncertain grey of the truth. Your existence is born from the essence of these three.
After taking a good look at his runes, Ashoka quickly realised that most of these attributes were a result of him drinking the lawyer potion. [Lawyer] and [Beyonder] were certain, while the proxy attribute was debatable since he couldn't be sure if he was chosen by the sefirah before or after drinking the potion.
He also conveniently skipped on thinking about [Cursed]. The bullet was already shot, and there wasn't much he could do about it anyways. If it was anything like [Fated], maybe he could also get rid of it? Maybe he could, but was he prepared to pay the price?
Too soon, I'm not even done with my first trial. I shouldn't be bothered about the third one so early.
In the end, he closed his eyes. The corridor remained silent, except for the sound of his heavy breathing as he waited...
***
The massive brass pillar, pure and lustrous, stood tall and proud, mighty in its unique one-ness in the palace of great marble pillars. As wide as three adults standing side-by-side, arms outstretched, and so tall, as if supporting the heavens itself.
It stood Abaft the throne of silver and obsidian, supporting the title of the "king; the one who dawned the crown, with its unparalleled majesty. Lines of ancient runic text were engraved upon its surface, decorated with beautiful black thorny floral patters.
It was the first thing that he noticed when he entered the grand hall of the king's court.
[> He, who wears the crown is hereby the king of the land of Casamir.
> For once a day, the King's word is the absolute law in the land of Casamir.
> From the moment of establishment, the king will sense intent that threatens him and his kingdom.
> The king is the highest level of authority, equivalent to a beacon of authority, drawing all towards him in submission or conflict.
> The essence of the crown is truly unveiled once the king matches its intent.
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> The mantle of the crown rests upon the king's head for as long as they live.
> The crown is strict in its succession. Only those officially from the Royal bloodline and those formally chosen by the crown can be the contenders who have the right to inherit it.
> Even amongst royalty, treachery against the crown is prohibited. Even if successful, the worse of crimes entail the worst of punishments.]
So, these are the "rules of the crown". Ashoka thought to himself. His gaze moved to the figure of Alariv beside him, one of the "Contender" for the crown, just like him, if the engraved rules were to be believed. He planned to study these rules in detail once he got out of this court.
The court remained silent as the three of them walked past the numerous pillars of black and white marbles, and towards the steps of the king's throne. Silver banners hung on the walls, reflecting the sunlight entering from the opening near the ceiling and illuminating the insides of the grand hall.
"Keep your chin up." He heard the voice of Alariv, whispering to king Eldrin in a quiet voice. "Don't look at the floor. This is a room full of predators. Don't look like prey, or you'll be devoured like one." Just as he said those words, as if on queue, Ashoka felt numerous gazes land upon him and the others, originating from the crowd. Almost all of them were directed towards Eldrin, staring and keenly observing him, as if trying to find a weakness or calculating the best way to exploit the young king.
A room full of predator... Ashoka thought to himself, chuckling inwardly. Right now, he felt a hint of pity for the boy. To have to live in such a place, devoid of any real love. A world where almost everyone smiled at you, but hid a dagger behind their back just for you. It was hard to envy such a life.
And from the looks of it, Eldrin's family dynamics wasn't any better. Aside from maybe prince Alariv, all his other uncles seemed to have their own agenda, while his parents were nowhere to be seen. If he had to guess by the rules of the crown, they were dead, which was probably how Eldrin had inherited the crown. Of course, that also begged the question on why one of the princes didn't inherit it first.
The number of stares continued to increase, continuing to pierce him with their gaze, but, In the next second, Ashoka's eyes widened as a suffocating and terrifying aura descended upon him, engulfing him and his surrounding and pressing down upon him like a mountain. This pressure was different from the authoritative majesty he had felt from the black crown, this one was more primal and ferocious, like a predator eying his prey. With difficulty, he slowly raised his head to glance at the source of this terrifying aura—
And his eyes stopped at the figure of Alariv—The prince.
"The one in golden robes is Slarman. The owner of the biggest Merchant caravan in the region. He'll be the first to present gifts to you. Then he'll ask for your permission to set up camp in a very round about way, like all merchants do. You will accept the gifts and—" Prince Alariv continued his conversation with Eldrin, who gave a suppressed giggle at the last comment.
And with that, all the malicious gazes from the crowd also simultaneously shrank back.
Damn it! Th-this guy was an ascendant all along?! How the hell am I supposed to deal with this guy if push comes to shove?? No, he had to deal with him eventually. After all, he was one of the contender for the crown. This new revelation had just made this nightmare ten times harder. Not only that, the existence of one ascended meant there would definitely be more, just like a certain monocle man who liked to play silly pranks.
And his fears came true when they reached near the throne, and Alariv greeted a man with a tall stature and eyes fierce, like a commander. A pair of swords were strapped to his waist and he had a very similar terrifying presence like prince Alariv. Meanwhile Eldrin addressed him as "Uncle Gaius".
Great. This was the second prince, Prince Gaius. Another ascended, another enemy.
The third prince, Prince Oswald, was currently nowhere to be seen, probably attending to other important matters.
Finally, they reached the throne, with him and prince Alariv standing on both sides of Eldrin, who rested himself on the throne. This prompted many curious gaze to be directed towards Ashoka, the new face, including one from prince Gaius. Only gods knew how he managed to keep a straight face in front of all that attention.
Eventually, the assembly began. First came the sounds of singers and dancers, entertaining the king and the ministers, And the many merchants who had traveled from far away to come here. The next in line were the traders and merchants.
Slarman—the caravan owner—was the first to greet the king, Bringing with him with gifts and luxuries. Boxes of gems and golds and carapaces of awakened and fallen monster. Ashoka's eyes glimmered as one of the servants brought a leather bag full of hundreds of glittering soul shards. The caravan's journey through the wilderness had definitely not been a smooth ride.
If only I could get my hand on one of those... He thought to himself, his eyes sparkling with greed.
Next, Slarman brought forward a woman from the crowd, introducing her as an awakened who had already unlocked her aspect—one related to growth and healing. He was offering to provide her power to the kingdom, along with many other awakened from his caravan to help guard the city's border from the corrupted creatures beyond the mountains. But even till the end, he did not directly ask for permission to set up camp in the city.
As if on queue, Prince Alariv whispered something in the young king's ear.
"Your journey must have been restless, I suppose." Eldrin spoke. Despite his voice being soft and low, it somehow resounding throughout the court, reaching every corner and ear in the Hall. "Rest well, now. My land will welcome the market that you have brought with yourself."
Ashoka could only guess that this was some application of the Black emperor pathway's ability that the king was using to spread his voice throughout the court.
"His majesty is kind." Slarman bowed to the king, before disappearing back into the crowd.
After Slarman came others. Eventually, the crowd shifted to the common people of the kingdom, who came to present the various issues they faced to the king. These included grievances against taxes, injustice, or the misdeeds of local nobles, but also things like local, petty and sometimes almost comical disputes. Ashoka quickly realized that this court's purpose was to provide entertainment to the king as much as it was diplomacy and to provide justice to the people.
Out of the many cases presented in the Royal Court that day, one in particular caught Ashoka's eye. That was because it involved the Royal Family itself.
"There is nothing left of the crop to speak of, nothing that we could possibly sell for a profit." The image of the elderly man, prostrated in front of the throne, tears falling onto the velvet carpet, was clear in his black eyes. "Winter is coming, and the farming season is long past. Maybe if we somehow get back our farm, and sell half of that barren land, we might survive till the next harvest season, otherwise, my family is destined to starve."
The old man, as it turned out, was a farmer from the outer reaches of the city. During a Breachment by a corrupted creature 3 months ago, his crop had been completely ravaged. With nothing much to sell, he had been unable to pay the taxes to the palace. This, coupled with his previous long records of unpaid taxes, had resulted in his farm being confiscated. Till now, every thing sounded relatively normal, just a farmer who had been unable to pay taxes.
That all changed when a member of the Royal Family got involved.
By selling most of their family assets such as jewelry and other items, along with doing some extreme jobs, his family, in the span of 2 months, had somehow collected enough money to repay the taxes and the overdue fine, with the hope of reclaiming their lost land. Yet all that hope was crushed when they arrived at the tax department, only to find out that their land had already been sold to someone else before the due auction time.
This "someone", to the horror of the old farmer, turned out to be the 3rd prince, Prince Oswald. Using his Royal status and his various connections, he had bought the land for half the price before the auction had even begun. Now, the prince was asking for 3 times the original price of the land if they wanted it back. The goal was clearly to make the farmer give up because of the absurd amount, while his status as a prince would stop them from openly complaining about this injustice lest they fear direct or indirect retaliation from the prince.
The farmer and his family tried regardless, but when all other forms of justice became ineffective, they finally arrived in front of the king.
"I beg of you, my Lord..." Eventually, his voice faded away amidst the sound of his sobs.
When the farmer raised his head, Ashoka finally saw his face. Old, wrinkled, and covered in tears. His heart wrenched at the sight, been a clear sense of disgust welled up in his stomach.
There had only been a single time in his life with his parents, when Ashoka had seen his father cry, hidden away in a corner of the house. To make someone as proud as him cry, he just couldn't imagine how someone had managed it. And now, as he saw a father almost 30 years older than his own, cry silently in front of the whole court, a feeling of utter disgust and hatred for the man who had made this possible gathered inside him.
Ah, that fucker... He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists tight enough they became white, as he recited the man's name silently in his mind.
In that moment, Ashoka made a promise to himself.
Whatever path I take to finish for this trial, bloody or irenic, I will make sure that you, Oswald, are a cold corpse by the end of it all.
But other than that—
Acting time! This was the perfect opportunity to try and act out his lawyer potion.
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[A/N: hello reader! It seems I took my own words from the last A/N a bit too seriously *nervous laughter*! anyways, if you want an excuse from me on why I waited like a month for this ch, I'll only say that I picked the worst time to start my fanfic, I.e, right before my exams, which are still going on. Let's pray that I'll have a normal posting schedule after it ends.
Anyways, we'll meet again next year!]