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Chapter 116: “Congratulations on the Recovery—Is Your Adventurer Party Recruiting?”
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 16:18:53 +0000 UTCLyle scanned over his updated status screen. Among the usual shifts in numbers, two particular changes caught his attention—"Total Resistance" and "Special Attributes."
To begin with, his Total Resistance had skyrocketed from a pitiful 0 to a solid 150. Meanwhile, Special Traits had climbed from 20 to 60.
The spike in resistance was no doubt thanks to his newly acquired traits—Complete Curse Immunity and Dark Attribute Resistance.
As for Special Traits… Lyle still wasn't entirely sure what governed that stat. His best guess? It had something to do with unlocking higher-tier classes. Probably.
Refocusing his mind, Lyle shifted his gaze from the tombstone of Doken and let the forest breeze sweep across his face. His oversized cleric sleeves fluttered in the wind.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Under the night sky, searing bursts of divine flame ignited the darkness.
In the blink of an eye, thirteen blazing Archangels descended upon the world—his full arsenal of summoning scrolls reduced to just two.
"Go," Lyle said casually, waving a hand toward his flaming legion. "Cleanse the forest. Leave no monster breathing."
His XP bar read: 17,250 / 10,000—enough for one level-up, but still shy of the 20,000 required for the next major breakthrough.
"Shame their duration's limited… Not sure they'll push me all the way to twenty thousand," he muttered.
There was no rush. No point wasting a level-up for minor gains.
Once the Archangels had flown off to deliver holy justice (with questionable mercy), Lyle brushed aside fallen leaves and dirt, plopped himself down on a boulder, and pulled out a peculiar item from his satchel:
The Orb of Death.
Carefully, he began channeling mana into it while unrolling the enchanted parchment Duggan had entrusted to him.
"Decipher Magic."
A faint glow lit up Lyle's eyes as he studied the scroll. The text was written in the language of forest gnomes—utter gibberish to anyone lacking the proper decoding spell.
The Next Morning — August 29th
Edge of the Great Marsh
Leinas's dried blood had turned black. Her once-silky golden hair was tangled and wild, and her face bore the fatigue of sleepless nights.
She had been here for two days. Waiting.
The edge of the marsh wasn't exactly a safe camping spot. Vicious beasts popped up now and then, forcing her to stay alert. Since being rescued from the marsh's depths by Lyle's summoned Archangel, she'd refused to leave. Her heart gnawed with concern for the man who went deeper in her stead.
The dense inner marsh was home not just to monsters, but something worse—the air itself was saturated with a lingering curse.
"If he doesn't come back by tomorrow…"
Her grip tightened on her spear. Though battered, she stood tall, the pride of her noble lineage refusing to let her collapse.
Then a voice called out, smooth and maddeningly casual:
"If he doesn't come back, what? You were planning to charge in dramatically and die with style?"
Leinas stiffened.
Her head whipped around—and there he was.
Lyle stood at the edge of the marsh, completely unharmed, walking toward her like this was a picnic and he'd just gotten lost on the way back.
Relief washed over her face as she ran forward.
His clothes were intact. No visible wounds. Not even a bruise. The bastard looked like he'd been out for tea.
She stopped a few feet short, collecting herself.
Despite everything, she still tried to maintain the elegance expected of a noble lady.
“If someone like you had died in there,” she said with forced composure, brushing dirt off her tattered cloak, “then going in after you would’ve been suicide. I'm brave, not stupid. I'd have turned around and walked right back to civilization with my tail between my legs."
Lyle chuckled and shrugged. “Ouch. That’s cold.”
Leinas rolled her eyes. “There’s no trace of heartbreak on your face, Lord Lyle.”
“Anyway,” he said, serious now. “I think I’ve figured out a way to handle your curse.”
Her eyes narrowed, just a flicker.
Of course she'd waited. She might be brave, reckless, and too proud for her own good, but even she knew that her curse wasn't something an ordinary healer could fix. Lyle was her best—and possibly only—shot.
"You don't have to look so shocked," he said, stepping closer. "If you're ready, I can begin now."
Leinas's curse had been triggered after killing a forest gnome, which somehow granted her the unique class of "Curse Knight."
At the time, Lyle assumed she'd just gotten lucky. But after everything he'd seen in the gnome ruins and the swamp's cursed valley, he wasn't so sure anymore.
Even the monsters affected by the swamp's curse had rotted into horrors, and not a single gnome from that destroyed tribe had acquired the "Curse Knight" class.
That was no accident.
"What materials do you need?" Leinas asked, her voice wavering ever so slightly.
"None," Lyle replied, pulling a murky bottle from his sleeve. "Just drink this."
The thick potion looked… questionable. Clumps of herbs floated in a brown-green liquid that bubbled slightly at the top. It did not inspire confidence.
Leinas glanced from the bottle to Lyle. Then, shrugging, she downed it in one go.
"Now what?"
"Wait," he said simply.
She opened her mouth to protest, but a wave of overwhelming drowsiness hit her like a brick. Her limbs went numb. Her knees buckled, and within seconds, she collapsed like a felled tree.
"Hmm. The sleep potion laced with spider venom works surprisingly well," Lyle said, sounding far too pleased with himself. "Good job, me."
He crouched next to the unconscious Leinas, brushing her golden bangs aside to reveal the cursed half of her face.
No, he wasn't being creepy.
He tapped a finger to her forehead.
Passive: Mana Infusion.
A controlled thread of cursed energy flowed from his fingertip into her body. He'd practiced this kind of energy manipulation plenty back in the capital—on that ogre he'd been dissecting for weeks.
Her rotted flesh twitched and writhed in response.
As he continued injecting cursed mana, Leinas's internal curse reacted, latching on and devouring it greedily. “Just as I thought.”
When he’d seen Leinas absorb curse energy after killing monsters, he’d begun to suspect something. Her Curse Knight class wasn’t just for show—it could absorb and stabilize curse power.
Which meant the reverse was true too.
By feeding her a steady, controlled stream of curse energy, he could teach her body to stabilize and control her own.
Soon, the grotesque rot on her cheek began to shrink—flesh knitting back together, color returning to pale but healthy skin.
After a few long minutes, Leinas's face was completely restored. Her skin, now smooth and unblemished, matched the rest of her noble features.
Lyle pulled back his hand and exhaled.
"Success. Man, talent really is an absurd thing."
Some people trained for decades and barely achieved anything. Others, like Leinas, casually picked up a rare class and didn't even lose their mind to the corruption.
Before this, Leinas had merely possessed the "Cursed Knight" class.
Now, after the ritual, she'd officially reached Level 1.
Half an Hour Later
Leinas blinked awake, groaning as she clutched her pounding head.
What the hell did he make her drink?
She pushed herself upright and immediately spotted Lyle nearby, casually flipping a black stone through his fingers.
"You…"
She paused, her hand flying to her face.
Her right cheek. The one she'd hidden for so long.
Smooth.
Eyes wide, she fumbled for her compact mirror. The reflection showed a flawless face—no rot, no curse, no shame.
Silence stretched for a long moment before she looked up, eyes brimming.
"…Thank you."
"Congratulations on your recovery, Lady Leinas," Lyle replied.
She stood, still dazed. Instinctively, she reached to pull her golden hair over her face—only to stop herself.
There was no need to hide anymore.
Instead, she tucked the locks behind her ear with deliberate grace.
"Lord Lyle," she said softly, her face glowing under the morning light. "Is your adventuring party still recruiting?"
Comments
Angel Perez
Great chap!
