The Curator
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Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2025-07-09 16:22:27 +0000 UTCThe water was cold, and the currents were strong. Rafael was surprised that he couldn’t see any fish nearby. They had likely fled from the elves or were simply too far away to spot. The water wasn’t entirely clear, and his vision was limited to about fifty meters below. Mike, however, seemed to know exactly where he was going, and Rafael followed closely behind. The rune had also begun to take effect—he felt no need to breathe at all. Magic was incredible. When he returned to the capital, he definitely needed to steal some magic books. It was common knowledge that one was either born with magic or without it, but if a single rune could allow them to breathe underwater, then the higher-ups were certainly hiding the full truth.
Mike was swimming surprisingly fast, and Rafael struggled to keep up. He had known Mike for two years now. Back then, his friend had been a servant to one of the wealthier merchants, but after witnessing how Rafael made his living, Mike had gladly joined him. Searching for the Amulet of the Mad Emperor was their biggest mission yet—and the first one they had planned themselves. As they dove deeper, Rafael noticed something odd. There were still no signs of life, no fish, no plants, just an endless stretch of deep blue. It reminded him of a barren desert, lifeless and empty. He turned his head, glancing back toward the surface, and his stomach dropped in panic. Two elves had dived into the water, following them.
It only took a second for the elves to spot them, and without hesitation, they began their pursuit. Are they ignoring the ship? Rafael thought, bewildered. He turned back around, kicking hard to dive even faster. They still had a hundred-meter lead, but without any visible ruins or the shield Mike had described earlier, escape seemed impossible. Mike swam with purpose as if he had seen something, but Rafael couldn't tell what. To their left and right, there was only the endless expanse of water. This can’t be how it ends, he thought desperately. Should he play dead and hope the elves ignored him? No, they’d be able to sense his life force with magic.
Just as despair threatened to creep in, Rafael watched in shock as Mike suddenly disappeared. His head vanished first, then his torso, arms, and legs. An illusion! Rafael realized. The entrance must be hidden beneath a powerful enchantment. Without a moment to lose, he swam toward the same spot and braced himself. The second he crossed the threshold, the world before him changed completely.
Beneath him stretched an enormous, ancient palace, partially shaped like a pyramid. The air was surprisingly fresh, not humid or heavy as he had expected. Lush greenery covered the ground, thriving despite the centuries that had passed. But none of that mattered right now—because Rafael had just realized he was nearly a kilometer in the air, falling fast toward the stone floor below.
A startled yelp escaped his mouth as gravity took hold.
"Don't worry! Magic will catch you!" Mike shouted from below, stepping out from behind a row of towering stone pillars.
Even knowing that didn’t do much to ease Rafael’s panic. The wind howled past his ears as he plummeted, forcing him to swallow his scream. The ground rushed toward him, but just ten meters before impact, two pillars lit up with an eerie glow. A strange force slowed his descent, making him feel as if he were floating on air. Moments later, he landed gently on the ground, unharmed.
"That was insane!" Rafael gasped. "Forget the amulet—we need these pillars!"
"Sure, mate. First thing I’ll do when we find the Mad Emperor is ask him to carry them to our place," Mike laughed before turning toward the massive pyramid entrance.
Now that Rafael had a moment to take in his surroundings, he was struck by the grandeur of the place. Towering stone pillars surrounded the pyramid, some adorned with statues that had stood the test of time. Nature had reclaimed much of the lost empire, vines creeping up the structures, soft moss carpeting the ancient stone. It was breathtaking, even in its decay.
“We might want to hurry up—there are elves right behind us,” Rafael said, picking up his pace.
“They actually followed us? That’s bad. Really bad. How did they find out so fast?" Mike’s expression darkened as he broke into a run.
Thankfully, there were no active traps—or if there had been, they had long since stopped working. A soft plop sounded behind them, and Rafael turned just in time to see the first elf breach the shield. A startled yelp escaped him as he, too, began to plummet. He didn’t know about the magic pillars, but despite the sudden drop, he didn’t scream.
Of course he didn’t. Elves never did.
Mike and Rafael sprinted toward the pyramid's entrance, now only a hundred meters ahead. Both were seasoned runners, well-practiced in escaping from guards, but the elves pursuing them were likely much faster. Behind them, six more splashes echoed through the chamber, signaling that even more elves had crossed the barrier. Rafael barely had time to process it—one elf alone was enough to finish them off, and now there were several.
They dashed through the pyramid’s entrance and up a massive staircase. The walls on either side flickered with eerie purple light, casting ominous shadows that seemed to dance with their frantic movements.
"Shit! How are they so fast?" Mike cursed as they pushed themselves to climb faster.
For the next thirty meters, the stairway stretched on with no corridors or side rooms—only the relentless incline beneath their feet. Their breathing grew heavy from exertion.
"Shouldn’t we be looking out for traps?" Rafael huffed. "Remember what happened in those ancient dwarven ruins?"
"If there were traps, we’d already be dead," Mike shot back between gasps.
At last, they reached the top and burst into a vast chamber. The polished marble floor reflected the dim purple light, and the sheer size of the room left Rafael momentarily breathless. It was the grandest hall he had ever seen—empty and cavernous, untouched by time. The only object within was a swirling black mass, suspended ominously from the ceiling in the center of the chamber.
"What is that?" Rafael asked, panting, sweat trickling down his forehead. His heart pounded in his chest, his damp hair clinging to his skin.
"No clue, but we need to keep moving. Whatever that thing is, it can’t be worse than what the elves will do to us," Mike replied, equally out of breath. "We have to reach the amulet—whoever gets to it first can still turn this around."
They pushed forward, forcing their legs to move despite exhaustion weighing them down. But just as they crossed the halfway point of the chamber, Rafael felt something yank his legs out from under him. He crashed onto the cold stone floor, pain jolting through his body. Instinct took over—he rolled onto his back, drawing his blade, ready to fend off an attacker.
But there was no one there.
His stomach dropped as he realized the truth. The elves had arrived.
Standing at the entrance, one of them held out a hand toward Rafael, his expression calm and detached. Beside him, a female elf made a grasping motion in the air—and a split second later, Mike hit the floor with a grunt.
No…
They were caught. So close—mere moments from the amulet—and now it was over. Rafael clenched his fists as despair took hold. The elves would seize the amulet, a weapon of untold power, and turn it against humanity. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
"So, you actually managed to find the ruins of Tiberius’s empire," the female elf mused, her voice dripping with arrogance. "We are most grateful for your assistance." She lifted her chin, her expression one of smug superiority.
Rafael had heard countless horror stories about elves back home, but he had never shared the hatred many humans harbored toward them—until now.
The male elf smiled coldly. "You look surprised. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you alive. There are many who would love to speak with the humans who came so close to finding the amulet."
More elves ascended the staircase, their elegant strides carrying them effortlessly across the chamber. Rafael noted that there were fewer than had dived in after them—where were the others? But the thought barely registered. His body was still frozen in place, held by elven magic, and the weight of failure pressed heavy on his shoulders.
Then, something shifted.
A low, unnatural hum filled the air.
The swirling black mass hanging from the ceiling moved.
For the first time, the elves seemed to notice it. Their eyes widened in alarm, and the instant their focus wavered, Rafael could move again. Their spell had broken.
Hope surged in his chest—this was their chance. If one of them could reach the amulet, they could still turn the tide. But as Rafael turned, ready to bolt, his breath caught in his throat.
The black mass was no longer just a formless shadow. It was taking shape.
A figure emerged—a humanoid form, broad-shouldered and imposing. Its body was made entirely of the writhing black substance, shifting and pulsing like living darkness. Its wings, leathery and massive, unfurled as it descended. Eyes devoid of pupils, darker than the void itself, fixed upon them.
With a heavy thud, the creature landed mere meters from Rafael and Mike.
The elves recoiled.
"Elves… what fun… what fun…"
Its voice was a chilling, guttural cackle, sending an unnatural shiver down Rafael’s spine. An oppressive aura radiated from it—malice so thick it was suffocating.
"A void demon," the female elf breathed, her earlier arrogance shattered. "Summoned to this plane… How much did the Mad Emperor sacrifice to make this possible?"
Panic flickered in the elves’ eyes. They began spreading out, moving cautiously, no longer the hunters, but the hunted.
"Hehe, too many to count. Come, elves—make this interesting for me."
The void demon’s laughter echoed through the vast chamber, a sound that sent shivers down Rafael’s spine. Its presence grew heavier, the oppressive aura thickening like a suffocating fog.
Rafael had scrambled to the side, pressing himself low against the polished floor before breaking into a sprint. He dashed along the edge of the chamber, skirting the creature’s awareness—or perhaps, it simply didn’t care about him. Mike wasn’t as fortunate. The demon’s pitch-black eyes flickered toward him for a brief moment, as if considering him… then dismissed him just as quickly, refocusing on the elves.
Rafael risked a glance back. The elves had drawn their blades, their expressions tense, their stances battle-ready. Yet the void demon only chuckled in amusement. Then, with a sickening squelch, two more arms erupted from its shifting mass, grotesquely elongated, each ending in clawed talons meant to tear through flesh.
No time to watch.
Rafael turned and bolted down the corridor. Mike was already beside him, their footsteps pounding against the stone floor, desperate to reach the amulet before the void demon turned its gaze back on them. Behind them, the sounds of chaos erupted—clashes of steel, the shrieks of dying elves, the thunderous crackle of magic colliding with an ancient, eldritch force.
The corridor ended abruptly, spilling them into a new chamber—a stark contrast to the darkness they had just escaped.
This room was white.
The walls, the floor, the statues—everything was sculpted from pristine white marble, bathed in an eerie, unnatural glow. Rafael barely took in the details at first, his mind racing with adrenaline. But as he slowed, his gaze swept across the room, and awe began to creep in.
Everywhere, there were depictions of a woman. Statues, paintings, intricate carvings—all of the same ethereal figure. A half-finished portrait stood on a nearby canvas, capturing delicate features with almost obsessive precision. Large blocks of raw marble, untouched and waiting to be sculpted, lay scattered across the floor. To the side, a grand, lavish bed sat undisturbed, its silken sheets untouched by time.
But it was what lay at the end of the chamber that stole Rafael’s breath.
A throne.
Massive, golden, inscribed with countless runes that pulsed with faint energy. Seated upon it was a skeletal figure, unmoving, long since claimed by death. And around its bony neck hung the very thing they had come for—the amulet of the Mad Emperor.
The pendant was unlike anything Rafael had ever seen. The metal twisted into a yin-yang-like pattern, encasing a crimson-red crystal that seemed to pulse with an inner light, as though it were alive.
"Is that it?" Rafael whispered, barely able to trust his own voice.
Mike, equally mesmerized, nodded. "It has to be," he breathed. His eyes gleamed with something beyond excitement—something darker, something closer to greed. He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping to a murmur. "There has to be another guardian."
As if answering his suspicion, a voice—soft, melodic—drifted from behind one of the towering pillars.
"That would be me."
A woman stepped into view, humming an airy tune as she emerged from the shadows.
Rafael’s breath caught.
It was her. The woman from the paintings, the statues, the unfinished portrait. Her beauty was beyond human, beyond even the ethereal grace of the elves. Her presence filled the chamber, warm and inviting, like stepping into the embrace of an old friend.
Unlike the void demon’s suffocating malice, her aura was comforting. Soothing. A gentle warmth that settled into Rafael’s very bones.
Mike tensed beside him, eyes darting toward the amulet before locking onto Rafael’s own. He lowered his voice to a whisper, barely audible.
"She’s alone. One of us has to reach the amulet."
Before Rafael could answer, the woman sighed and cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. She tilted her head, amusement flickering across her face.
"You do realize I’m an angel, right?"
