The Curator
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Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 04:46:01 +0000 UTC“No, you’re not leaving!” the void demon screeched, its voice clawing at the air as the boy reached the edge of the chamber — just seconds from escape.
That brief moment of distraction was all I needed. My fist shot upward in a brutal uppercut, the force lifting the demon clean off its feet and slamming it into the ceiling with a sickening crack. I watched, unbothered, as the creature slid down the wall, its limbs limp, its senses dulled by the blow.
“Well, it was nice seeing you again. Seems like you really embraced your new role as a servant of the Void God, huh?” I quipped with a smirk, giving the dazed creature a casual wave before vanishing from the room, teleporting to the boy’s side — leaving the demon to rot in that eternal, forgotten chamber.
“Uh… what are we doing about the elves? They’ve probably already left the pyramid and started spreading the news,” Rafael asked, his voice uncertain as he descended the worn stone steps leading toward the exit.
A fair question, I had to admit. Depending on what the brat — no, Rafael — wanted, we had several options: return to the ship, hunt down and silence the elves, or perhaps just frighten them enough to send a message. The only thing I was certain of was what we shouldn’t do — and that was stepping through the portal.
Elves rarely wandered far from their dragons, and the presence of one fully-grown beast, combined with a squad of elves, could prove troublesome. Even if they couldn't best me in raw power, a single well-placed arrow aimed at the boy would be enough to end this story. I couldn’t heal wounds his wounds because of the amulet.
“It depends on what you want,” I said after a moment’s thought. “If your goal is to prevent the elves from attacking the human kingdom, I’ll need to leave them with a lesson they won’t soon forget — fear always lingers longer than words. Otherwise, we’re free to leave. The one thing we must not do is step through that portal.”
It stung that i couldn't rebuild my empire — the same empire I’d spent thousands of years trapped inside that cursed amulet dreaming about. But a promise, once given, must be kept, even if centuries had passed. What were a few more months in the grand scheme of things?
“I want to return to my crew, sail home, and reach the capital,” Rafael said, his voice soft, laced with longing.
“Also I thought the elves already feared you,” He teased, his lips curling into a thin smile. “The two we met earlier seemed plenty scared.”
“They did… but fear fades fast,” I replied, my tone sharp and clear. “It’s no different than a thief swearing off stealing when a sword rests at his throat. Once the danger passes, old habits resurface. Those elves are greedy — and if you want to stop them from waging war, you’ll have to brand the memory deep into their minds. Not necessarily something cruel, but a display of strength they can’t deny. Maybe even a taste of horror. A reminder that peace exists only under the shadow of power.”
I paused, letting the silence settle before continuing. “I’ve been gone a long time. Most of the stories told about me are probably half-forgotten or twisted beyond recognition. Some may think I’ve grown weak. And, truth be told, they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. My reach is still limited to the range of this amulet. I can’t just appear in their capital and wipe out their armies.”
I let the words hang in the air, watching his face carefully. Simple escape wouldn’t be enough. Something larger was unfolding here — Mike had already proved that much.
“So… is that why you acted all mighty and evil the moment you stepped out of the amulet?” Rafael asked, his expression thoughtful — though a wide, teasing grin soon crept across his face.
“What? I am mighty!” I shot back, feigning offense. “And let’s see how you’d behave after being locked away for an enterity, stuck in a chamber with a raving, lunatic angel. I’d like to see you keep your manners in that situation.”
His grin only widened, but I wasn’t about to admit he was probably more right than I cared to believe.
“Of course, mighty one,” he said, chuckling. “Let’s go terrify the elves, make them run for the hills, and then head back to the ship and sail home.”
With that, Rafael continued his descent, each step echoing off the cold stone. While he made his way to the exit, I began weaving my thoughts into plans — strategies for dealing with the elves.
Dragons were always the real problem. After about eighty years, their scales began resisting magic, and while they weren’t as resilient as that void demon, they still forced me to channel a decent portion of my power to make a dent. Fire and wind spells? Practically useless against creatures like that.
No, what I needed was something ancient. Something primal. Something that would carve fear straight into their bones.
A lightning storm would do nicely. Especially if I called on my black lightning — those bolts were as beautiful as they were destructive.
“Stand where you are and hand over the amulet!” a sharp voice barked as Rafael stepped out of the pyramid.
An elven soldier, bow drawn, stared him down. I had to admit — there were more of them than I’d expected. The portal still glowed wide open behind their ranks, offering a perfect view of the sunlit grasslands beyond. How long had it been since I’d seen such a simple, peaceful sight?
More than fifty elves stood ready, armored and armed, and flanking them were four dragons. Their armor gleamed, well-forged but clearly not the mark of an elite warband. Even so, it had been a long time since I’d last faced elves. I doubted their strength had diminished all that much.
And yet, here they stood. Blocking our path.
I couldn’t risk giving Rafael the chance to mess things up, so I appeared before him — right on cue — to deliver my grand speech. After all, you can’t unleash a black lightning storm without first offering your enemy a proper introduction to terror.
“You expect me to surrender? Me? I am Tiberus, the Immortal Emperor,” I declared, letting my voice roll across the ancient plaza like a thunderclap. “Not even the heavens could destroy me; the sky itself was torn asunder by divine hands, and still I stand. And now, you — a fledgling surrounded by a mere fifty elves — dare command me? On top of that, I hear whispers of your intent to march against the human kingdom. For such arrogance, you will witness the full depth of my wrath.”
My voice echoed through the worn, vine-entwined stone of the plaza, stirring dust and dead leaves in its wake. The place had clearly seen better days — the moss creeping up the cracked statues, weeds clawing at the once-pristine stonework. Someone really ought to hire a gardener.
It wasn’t my finest speech, I’ll admit. Rust gathers after a few centuries of silence, and I wasn’t entirely sure how well my theatrics translated to this era’s youth. Maybe I’d have to study their slang if I wanted my words to leave a lasting mark.
“My name is Sylvarion Goldleaf!” came the sharp reply, the elf raising his chin high. “We are among the mightiest under the royal house, and we demand your immediate surrender.”
Sylvarion stood adorned in armor that gleamed like polished silver, so heavily decorated with ornaments and filigree it was clear the fool had spent more time parading through ballrooms than battlefields. His silver hair fluttered in the rising wind — the perfect touch for the spectacle I was about to unleash.
That was the cue I’d been waiting for. I began to weave power through the air around me. Without a physical body, channeling magic was more sluggish, more fragile, but the energy still flowed — and the elves noticed. The winds whispered of oncoming doom, stirring the long strands of Sylvarion’s hair until they danced in the air.
“Interrupt him! Before he unleashes his full strength!” Sylvarion barked.
The elves reacted with well-rehearsed precision. Mages lifted their hands and began summoning spells, warriors unsheathed blades and sprinted toward me, archers drew back their bows, and the dragons opened their jaws, preparing to drown me in fire.
They’d forgotten one important detail. The boy. How careless.
I let a thin smile curl on my lips as I raised a shield around myself. Their spells and arrows shattered harmlessly against the barrier, the first blasts of dragonfire washing over it in a futile blaze. As I poured more strength into the storm, the air thickened with raw power. The winds howled louder, lifting the first elves off their feet like leaves caught in a gale.
And then — black lightning forked downward from the churning skies.
The first bolt struck one of the dragons, a towering beast mid-breath, sending its massive frame crashing sideways. Black arcs of lightning crawled across its scales as the creature thrashed in agony, its roar echoing across the stone square, raw and pained.
More lightning followed, crackling downward like nature’s guillotine. Some elves managed to raise protective wards around the remaining dragons, but it was useless. My lightning speared through their shields as if they were parchment, reducing the next dragon to a twitching, grounded heap.
By the third strike, even the bravest of them understood: this battle was lost. The last dragon — sensing what the others could not — turned tail and sprinted toward the portal in blind panic, its talons scraping stone in desperation.
Chaos bloomed across the elven ranks. I wondered, briefly, where the two I’d spared earlier had gone. Likely long gone, scurrying for safety while their comrades clung to hope.
I let the storm fade. It was always more satisfying to deal with them personally.
In a blink, I teleported to the fallen dragon’s side. Its front leg lay outstretched, trembling, easy prey. I seized it and, with a sharp twist, flung the entire creature across the plaza. The dragon crashed into one of the ancient statues, shattering both stone and bone in an explosion of sound that could be heard even over the dying storm. Debris rolled across the square, flattening an unfortunate elf who hadn’t leaped aside fast enough.
Of course, the dragon wouldn’t die. Dragons were treasures to the elves — they would pour every ounce of magic and medicine into saving the creature’s life, assuming it could even cling to it.
Next, I turned to another elf — one already kneeling over the second dragon, trying to mend the blackened wounds left by my lightning. I grabbed him by the belt and hurled him toward the portal like a discarded rag. He vanished through the glowing rift in the blink of an eye, his body slicing through the air faster than a hawk in a dive.
Without pause, I gripped the injured dragon by the tail and began to spin. With one final heave, I sent the green-scaled beast flying after its companion. The dragon was too large for a clean exit; its wing and neck snapped as it collided with the edges of the portal. The creature folded in on itself, crumpled like origami, and disappeared into the glowing void.
Some elves still believed they could win, rushing me with swords raised high. I welcomed the attempt. It had been far too long since I’d enjoyed a proper duel.
I glanced down, spotting a rapier lying among the chaos — one of the ornate weapons the elves had dropped in their panic. With a flick of my hand, I summoned it to me, catching the hilt just in time to deflect the first attacker’s blade.
The elf’s sword struck with all the desperation of a drowning man. It was a decent strike, but the sword’s weight wasn’t suited to my current form. I held back, careful not to shatter it with a careless parry. Strength, after all, is only satisfying when properly measured.
The elf’s eyes gleamed with brief, foolish triumph as he lunged for a second strike. I spun away, light on my feet, letting the blade cut through empty air.
And so, the game began.
The sharp clash of steel against steel rang out across the battered plaza as the elf and I circled each other, locked in our deadly dance. My movements were fluid and effortless, weaving and spinning around his heavy-handed strikes. Every so often I left him with a shallow cut for his trouble, while he, with all his brute strength, still failed to land even a single blow.
Above us, the storm that had once raged like a living beast was beginning to fade, the sky quieting as black clouds thinned and the last threads of lightning flickered into nothingness. The panic that had once gripped the elven soldiers ebbed along with it — many had already scrambled through the portal, abandoning the battlefield entirely. The few who remained clustered around the crippled dragon, which whimpered on the ground like a wounded hound, its massive frame trembling.
At that moment, I was rather enjoying the duel, savoring the elf's desperation as he pushed himself beyond his limits. That was until another elf, sword in hand, decided to join the fray. Two against one — it hardly seemed fair for them, but it certainly promised more entertainment for me.
I would’ve preferred a double-bladed staff for such a fight. There was something deeply satisfying about the rhythm of twin blades, especially when facing multiple opponents. But the rapier would do. It had a certain elegance to it, even if it lacked the flair I craved.
“Ha! Is that all you’ve got? Pathetic! No wonder your family died,” the first elf snarled between gasps, his words sharp enough to find their mark.
That one hit deeper than the blade ever could — though I would never let it show.
Before he could finish the last syllable, I lunged forward, the tip of my rapier gliding effortlessly across his throat, silencing him in an instant. In the same motion, I kicked the second elf away, the force sending him tumbling across the stone, bones audibly snapping as he hit the ground.
I caught the severed head before it even touched the floor. With a casual flick of my wrist, I hurled it toward another elf standing dumbstruck near the portal, his gormless expression practically begging for correction. The head collided with his face in a wet, meaty thud, knocking him backward and sending him stumbling through the portal.
Now, with the most irritating one dealt with, I might have been inclined to show the others a sliver of mercy. But, as it turned out, my mood leaned toward the contrary.
The elf I’d kicked away was still alive — barely. I snatched him up by the ankles and swung him like a grotesque flail, using his battered body to crash into a heavily armored elf stationed near the portal. That one had come prepared: shield broad as a door, warhammer gleaming in the dim light, posture steady and resolute.
A proper duel — or so he must’ve thought.
The battle between us was short but brutal. I swung the elf-turned-weapon against his shield once, the sound of cracking bone and muffled screams filling the air. On the second swing, the poor creature’s skull burst apart like an overripe fruit, showering the shield in blood and fragments of brain. Naturally, I kept a thin layer of magic shielding just above my skin — there was no sense in staining myself with gore while working so hard.
The armored elf’s eyes stared back at me through the slits of his helmet, wide and uncomprehending, just before I planted my foot against his shield and sent him sprawling backward, the impact lifting him clean off the ground.
The limp body I had wielded as a weapon was now little more than a shattered collection of limbs. Without ceremony, I flung it through the portal after its armored counterpart. The plaza was nearly silent now, save for the wind and the pained groans of the few surviving elves strewn across the stones like discarded dolls.
Only four remained standing — brave or foolish enough to fight on. I was ready to finish them off when Rafael’s voice cut through the air.
“Wait! Don’t kill them yet — I want to know what happened to my crew on the surface.”
I paused, glancing back. The elves, hearing this, allowed themselves small, hopeful smiles. They thought me a mindless servant — bound to the whims of the human brat. I would’ve killed them all on the spot for their arrogance, but Rafael’s request complicated things.
Killing them outright would now draw suspicion from the others beyond the portal. Annoying. If the boy weren’t under my protection, I’d have taught him a lesson with a slap that would echo for miles.
Before the elves could grow bolder, I darted forward, stepping through the portal in a blink. My hand closed around the head of the nearest elf, and with a single flex of my fingers, his skull crumbled like dry clay. Another stepped forward to attack, but my punch struck faster than thought — too much force, too little restraint. My fist tore clean through his chest, spraying blood and viscera across the stones.
I kicked aside his twitching body before his weapon could so much as scratch me, sending the lifeless elf sailing back through the portal — colliding with another who had only just begun to stand. The sound of shattering bones followed as both collapsed into a heap.
Only a handful of elves remained now, sprawled across the plaza, groaning or unconscious, broken by the storm or by my hands. One still stood, barely, too dazed to react when I stepped forward, seized him by the throat, and lifted him into the air.
I soared upward, carrying the struggling elf toward the glowing barrier where the ocean pressed against the magical shield, held back only by ancient enchantments.
“Now,” I said, tightening my grip just enough to remind him of the futility of resistance, “tell me what’s happening on the ship.”
The elf’s voice cracked as panic overtook him. “I... I came through the portal! I don’t know anything about the surface! I swear!”
“Is that so?” I replied, tilting my head slightly. “Let’s see if the ocean helps jog your memory.”
With a twisted smile, I hurled him through the barrier. The magic bent and rippled as the elf shot through it, vanishing into the dark, open sea.
“Wait! Why are you doing that? He said he wasn’t on the ship!” Rafael’s voice rang out from below, sharp with protest.
“He could be lying,” I answered dryly. Whether or not the elf had useful information was irrelevant. Breaking them was necessary if I want to stop their advance on the humans. Besides, their kind could hold their breath for quite a while, if the fear didn’t kill them first.
And if he survived long enough, I could always fish him back out. In the end it was most important to place fear in their heart.
