Cursed Immortality

Chapter 1146: Secret Fraternity on the Move!

Deep within the endless folds of hyperspace, where starlight was stretched into razor-thin ribbons and causality itself lagged a heartbeat behind motion, a stealth spacecraft cut through the space in absolute silence.

The spacecraft had no banners or factional insignia, as its hull was layered with overlapping runic plates that swallowed light rather than reflect it, and every fluctuation of energy around it was smothered the instant it appeared.

Even Legendary Kings, if they happened to glance this way, would perceive nothing but empty transit lanes.

Inside the vessel, the atmosphere was dense with pressure because of the two figures standing within the central command hall, their presence alone bending the surrounding space.

The first was a handsome man, tall and refined, draped in treasure-laden robes that shimmered with restrained brilliance. Each fold of cloth was embroidered with ancient sigils that pulsed faintly, as if breathing.

Yet what truly betrayed his identity, lying beneath the elegance, was his skin, covered in runic scales, smooth, interlocking glyph-plates that crawled faintly beneath his flesh like living inscriptions. They glowed softly in rhythm with his breath, emitting profound pulses that distorted the surrounding laws.

Most telling of all, behind his eyes, something inhuman stirred, however, not with bloodlust nor madness, but the cold, instinctive awareness of a Magic Beast wearing a human form, and a perfected one at that.

He was a being who had crossed the boundary between beast and men long ago, for he was a Quasi-Myth, and one whose foundation was frighteningly complete.

Beside him stood the second figure, broad, towering, and giving of overwhelming pressure. He was a Hobgoblin, yet nothing like the crude monsters of the Lesser Plains.

This one was massive, like a giant, his frame forged into a walking fortress of corded muscle and dark-green obsidian skin. Tribal runes were carved directly into his flesh, glowing faintly crimson, not painted but etched by law itself.

His tusks curved upward like crescent blades, each one engraved with battle-scripts. His armor looked primitive at first glance, layered with bone, meteor iron, and dragon sinew, but each piece radiated authority and spoke of accumulated slaughter.

Power rolled off him in oppressive waves like refined violence. He was probably one of his kind, a Hobgoblin who had transcended his race. A king without a tribe, another Quasi-Myth forged by endless war!

The silence between them lasted several heartbeats before the runic-scaled man finally spoke, his voice smooth, cultured, and utterly devoid of emotion.

"So... the information is confirmed?"

A holographic star-map bloomed between them, showing a rapidly approaching coordinate cluster, faint, distorted, and deliberately obscured.

The Hobgoblin crossed his arms, his muscles flexing with suppressed force.

"Confirmed enough," He rumbled, his voice like grinding stone. "The coordinates align with three independent anomalies. One temporal scar. One causality distortion. And one... absence."

He paused, lips curling into something between a grin and a snarl, "That last one reeks of a curse!"

The runic-scaled man’s eyes gleamed faintly as he nodded, "Then that source didn’t lie."

The Hobgoblin snorted, "However, since when do we trust anonymous whispers?"

The man turned slightly, the runes on his skin shifting into new configurations.

"Since the Zodiac Beast calamity," He replied calmly. "Since the Path of Legend closed. Since every failed divination pointed toward deliberate interference. And most importantly, since the Holy King has disappeared!"

The moment the last part was mentioned, the Hobgoblin’s expression turned gloomy as a faint killing intent flicked in his eyes, "It has to be those Mythical Coalition bastards! They are on to us, and that’s why they got rid of Holy King!"

The man didn’t retort as if he had the same trail of thoughts as his companion, as he impassively stated, "There is no proof that Mythical Coalition knows about our existence, nor do they have anything to do with the disappearance of the Holy King. The Myth of White Swordsman has already been confirmed.

"Moreover, that day, it wasn’t just the Holy King who had disappeared, but some mysterious, powerful existence also took away the Champion King without any chance to resist.

"Even the Coalition founders are wary of that existence and have continued to holed up in their secret base without even daring to come out. Nonetheless, this is also the perfect chance for us to move without worrying about those meddlesome fellows.

"Furthermore, the Upper Plains aren’t happy about Holy King’s disappearance either, and her backer seemed to be raising hell over there because of her. But even they couldn’t figure out what happened to her, and divination wouldn’t work.

"So, my people have told me to stay the hell out of this matter, and I suggest you do the same and focus on the task at hand. Our objective is to locate the Legendary Master and kill the Cursed One. That’s why the whole reason this Secret Fraternity was founded in the first place!"

The Hobgoblin’s expression tightened with suppressed rage, but he didn’t retort as he thought, ’I was told the same...’

In the end, he nodded reluctantly, "I have no interest in pursuing this matter, don’t worry. I’m just skeptical because if this isn’t the coalition, then whoever this existence was, they are capable of subduing Quasi-Myths like Holy King. That’s why I have some doubts about this source. Who is it anyway? Has that old guy told you about it?"

This time, the man’s expression turned solemn as he shook his head, "No, but he seemed to be pretty confident in this source. Furthermore, he possessed the same deterrent power as the Holy King. Not only that, but his backer seemed to be in the same league as the Holy King as well. That’s why he is in charge right now."

"...And that alone makes it dangerous." The Hobgoblin couldn’t help but scoff with a hint of displeasure.

"Exactly," The man replied. "That’s why we need to be extra careful. Even if this is a trap, as long as we are working together, we can always escape!"

Thereafter, silence followed as hyperspace rippled around the vessel, stretching time thin.

Finally, the Hob-goblin spoke again sternly, "Although I don’t like you, I’m glad you are here!"

The runic-scaled man smiled faintly with disdain, "You’re not so likable either."

Suddenly, his eyes gleamed coldly, "Don’t worry much...even if it’s a trap, only something worth killing would dare bait us. It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent fight!"

Suddenly, the Hobgoblin burst into amusing laughter filled with a deep, thunderous sound that rattled the ship’s interior.

"Hah! Spoken like a true beast." He leaned forward, cracking his neck, "You are right, I doubt that kind of existence would lower themselves to bait us. So, if this lead is false, we erase the trail."

"If it’s true..." His tusks gleamed. "...then we bring back the head of the Cursed One!"

The runic-scaled man turned toward the viewing crystal, watching the destination grow closer.

"No," he corrected calmly. "We confirm first. Kill second and report nothing, unless the Upper Plains demand it!"

After an unknown time, the spacecraft shuddered as it exited hyperspace, slipping silently into real space near an uncharted stellar graveyard.

There were many dead stars with lingering space frost and darkness, a perfect place for a curse to hide.

The Hob-goblin rolled his shoulders, power surging. The runic-scaled man’s smile widened imperceptibly.

They were both ready to depart, as what they’ll encounter here would affect many things in the grand scheme of the Legendary Plains!