The marketplace had long quieted down, the once crowded streets now cast in a faint golden glow of the setting sun. Arthur remained seated on the rooftop, his thoughts filled with ambition and frustration.
He exhaled sharply and pushed himself to his feet. 'I can not afford to be idle in a situation like this. If I want to survive my own trials, I'll need to get stronger, and not a little bit, I will have to surpass my human limits by far, and I'll have to understand what was coming for me.'
Jumping down from the rooftop which was situated a few meters above the ground, he landed on his feet in a narrow alleyway, his steps silent against the worn stone path.
Only the wind could be heard hissing through the empty alley, where only a few seconds before, a lonely silhouette was standing.
The outskirts had many forgotten corners, places where secrets thrived and information carried more weight than gold. Arthur knew exactly where to go.
The underground tavern, known as hollow, was buried beneath the city, hidden in the shadows of an outskirts district. It was a place where those who had faced the curse sometimes spoke of their experiences, if they survived long enough to tell the tale that is.
He made his way through the branched streets, avoiding the few late night wanderers still out to avoid trouble. The entrance to the tavern was nothing more than a rusted iron door at the base of an abandoned building. A single knock and a small, grated window slid open.
A pair of dull gray eyes stared at him. "Who do I speak with?"
"It's Arthur, I need some information..."
The eyes studied him for a moment before the door creaked open just enough for Arthur to slip inside and closed again behind his back. There were some stairs leading down to a casual tavern interior that resembled a little bit to the interior of a cave. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of alcohol. Voices murmured in hushed tones, and figures cloaked in shadows lined the dimly lit room.
Arthur moved cautiously, his gaze sweeping over the patrons. Some bore scars that pulsed with faint, unnatural light, probably remnants of their trials. Others looked untouched, their expressions filled with either arrogance or quiet dread.
He approached the bar where a burly man with a jagged scar across his cheek wiped down a wooden counter.
"You lookin' for trouble, kid?" the bartender asked, not bothering to glance up.
'Why was everyone treating me like a kid!? I'm only a little bit smaller build!'
"I'm only looking for answers" Arthur replied with a slightly angry look on his face.
The bartender huffed a dry laugh. "Ain't we all?"
Arthur pulled out a few bronze coins, and placed them on the counter of the bar. It wasn't much, but it was enough to loosen some tongues.
The bartender eyed it before sighing. "Alright, boy. What can I do for you?."
Arthur leaned slightly and whispered. "The curse. The trials. What do you know?"
The man's expression darkened. He wiped his hands on a rag before leaning in as well. "I know they're different for everyone. The Person infected needs to solve a certain conflict in a part of The Cursed Lands."
Arthur's jaw tightened, with a confused look he asked. "The Cursed Lands?"
The bartender studied him, as if weighing how much to say. Finally, he muttered, "Yes it is supposed to be another world, completely different from ours. More mystic, beautiful but also dangerous. Lurking Monsters are hiding around every corner there, and the Cursed Lands are more than ten times as big as the earth..."
That was some really valuable information for him, with a light frown he asked "Any tips on how to survive?"
"Nothing good. You either pass, and something inside your body changes forever, or you fail, which means death."
Arthur absorbed the words, his fingers tightening into fists. He had expected as much. Still, hearing it spoken aloud made the weight of his situation sink deeper.
"Do you know how to prepare?" he asked.
The bartender chuckled dryly. "How would I know?
The curse chooses when you start. And when it does, you either fight, or you fall."
Arthur exhaled through his nose. He had suspected that there was no real way to control when his trial would begin, but that didn't mean he was powerless. He could still sharpen himself, push his body and mind to their limits before the inevitable moment arrived.
Furthermore, he turned to leave, but before he could, the bartender spoke again.
"You should be careful, kid. You think you want power, but power always comes with a price."
Arthur didn't hesitate. He met the bartender's gaze, his glowing blue eyes cold as ice.
"Then I'll make sure I'm the one who decides how high that price is."
With that, he stepped out of The Hollow tavern and into the night, his resolve stronger than ever.
The streets were silent now, bathed in the silver glow of the moon. Only a few ragged people, probably drunk, were slandering through the streets. Arthur walked slowly, his mind racing as he gazed up at the night sky. The moon hung high, bright and unwavering. It was a reminder of time, of inevitability. No matter how much he tried to prepare, the moment of his trial would come, as certain as the cycle of the moon itself.
He found himself drawn towards an abandoned church, where the cobblestones in front of the church were cracked with age, and its tower was taller than the normal smaller churches in the outskirts. Arthur walked into the abandoned church and climbed the stairs to the top, his breath normalizing again when he was standing in the tower of the church.
All windows were broken, so Arthur started to climb even higher till he stood on top of the tower. He sat down and gazed at the full moon.
The sky was vast, endless, and yet here he was, small, human, fragile.
But he hopefully wouldn't remain this small for any longer.
Arthur closed his eyes, centering himself. He could hear the rustling of the wind through the broken windows of the windows below him, the faint echo of the city's heart still beating in the distance. He thought of the curse, of the trials that awaited him. They would try to break him, but he would not allow it. He would become stronger, stronger than the fear gnawing at his chest, stronger than the doubts creeping into his mind.
Death was right in front of his door, but even if he couldn't reach his dream, he would at least pull as many monsters with him to death as he could.
He exhaled and rose to his feet. The trials were coming. The curse had already chosen him. He had no choice but to be ready.
With one last glance at the nearly full moon, he concentrated if he was able to sense the Curse living within him, if it was living at all, that is.
Right now, his body was glowing with a faint crimson color, and he felt some unknown power circulating through his body.
As far as he was concerned that unknown power was Soul essence, it was the power source of all the "Cursed" that were people who beat their first trials.
But right now he could only sense it, and not use it or get stronger through it.
One of the last things he heard in the tavern he visited, was that after someone beat the First Trial, he would form a soul core.
Maybe one day, he would also be able to experience that feeling.
Just as he felt the Curse, a dark cold voice whispered into his mind a terrifying sentence.
[ Chosen One Arthur Moonlight, Your First Trial, The Trial of Beginning, is starting Tomorrow when the Moon is at its peak. ]