Sakeer gazed at the mysterious scale in his hands. Once pure black, it had now turned a dull gray—a clear sign that its cursed power had been completely devoured.
At the same time, the dense aura of corruption that once saturated the narrow stone chamber had begun to dissipate.
He exhaled slowly.
"Two class levels in a single breath… Just what kind of creature did this scale come from?"
Lifting his palm, he effortlessly picked up the massive scale from the ground. Despite its size, it was shockingly light.
He gave it a few experimental shakes. The palm-thick scale sliced through the air silently, without the slightest resistance.
Frowning, Sakeer drew an iron sword from his item box.
With a decisive swing, he struck the scale with all his strength.
Clang!
A sharp, metallic ring echoed through the chamber.
Sakeer narrowed his eyes.
The mysterious scale remained completely unscathed—not even the faintest mark. But where the iron sword had struck, a deep dent had appeared on the blade itself.
"Incredible…"
Sakeer's eyes gleamed.
Not only was this scale capable of storing such immense cursed energy, but it was also incredibly resilient—able to withstand both physical attacks and the erosion of dark magic.
A thought flashed through his mind.
Could this be forged into a weapon?
It was possible.
But the real question was—who in this world had the skill to craft something from a material like this?
More than that—
This scale had been the source of the curse's power.
Then…
"Is the 'Cursed Knight' class itself born from this scale? Or from the creature it belonged to?"
Sakeer's expression grew solemn.
In this world, very few individuals possessed the Cursed Knight class. As far as he knew, apart from Leinas, the only other recorded wielder of this power had been one of the Thirteen Heroes—legendary warriors from two hundred years ago.
His gaze shifted to the skeleton leaning against the rock wall.
Could this be one of the Thirteen Heroes?
Looking around the narrow stone crevice, he saw nothing but bones and the mysterious scale.
There was no way to confirm the identity of the remains.
Sakeer stored the mystic scale in his item box.
Then, with a faint smirk, he murmured to the bones:
"Whoever you were… Thanks for the gift."
The bigger picture was now clear.
The curse energy from the scale had likely been leaking for centuries, though at an extremely slow rate.
Perhaps, its release had begun when the forest Dwarf tribe started purging the poisonous creatures that crawled up from the valley.
Over the years, the curse's influence had remained mostly contained, lingering in the stone walls.
But then—
A few years ago, a Cursed Basilisk had burrowed through the cavern, unwittingly breaking the seal.
That was when the curse energy had finally spilled out completely.
A pity.
If even a fraction of that power had remained, Sakeer suspected that his Cursed Knight class could have maxed out instantly.
Whoosh!
With a powerful flap of its wings, the Archangel Flame lifted Sakeer from the narrow crevice, carrying him back into the main cave.
The hidden chamber, with its mystic scale and ancient bones, was left behind.
Dogan had finally regained consciousness.
But his skin had rotted—his flesh eaten away by his proximity to the cursed scale's heart.
Despite the unbearable pain, the madness in his eyes had vanished.
His mind had cleared.
Groaning, Dogan forced himself to sit up, leaning weakly against a large rock.
His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
"Cough… cough… Is the curse… gone?"
He could feel it—the dark force that had been gnawing at his soul was now absent.
For the first time since he had been cursed, his mind felt calm.
The air itself no longer carried that oppressive weight.
Then, from the darkness above, a faint golden glow emerged.
His vision blurred.
Through the haze, he saw the Archangel Flame descending from above.
"Are you alright, Dogan?"
Sakeer's voice rang out as he landed nearby, his steps quick and steady.
The moment he saw Dogan's weakened state, his brow furrowed deeply.
The curse had corroded his body badly—just like the monsters who had been rotted from the inside out.
Dogan gave a weak, bitter smile.
"What… exactly caused all this, Lord Strong?"
His voice trembled.
Dogan had only one reason for enduring this suffering.
To understand.
To know what had destroyed his entire tribe.
That was why he was here.
Sakeer hesitated for a moment.
Then, slowly, he spoke.
"A cursed undead."
He glanced toward the sealed rock wall.
"Something… ancient. A creature buried deep within the stone. The Cursed Basilisk must have dug into its resting place, breaking the seal and unleashing the curse energy."
He paused.
"That's the cause."
Sakeer had no intention of revealing the truth about the scale.
If Dogan learned that a mere scale—belonging to some unknown ancient creature—was responsible for everything, he would likely fall into true despair.
Dogan shuddered.
His weakened voice carried a mix of anger and relief.
"The undead…"
His fists clenched weakly.
"I knew it… Those things are a plague upon the living."
His voice wavered.
Then, he took a ragged breath.
"We forest dwarves… We exist to protect the jungle… to guard its creatures…"
His green eyes flickered.
For a brief moment, he looked lost in thought.
"In the end… were we simply cursed by the creature we protect?"
His voice trailed off into a weak murmur, echoing softly in the dimly lit cave.
Sakeer finally understood.
The forest Dwarf tribe had always possessed a special magical ritual—one that could only be used by those who had mastered the ability of 'Wild Transformation'.
During the ritual, if one consumes the heart of a monster or beast, they not only receive the blessing of its power but also break through the limits of Wild Transformation.
By doing so, they can transform into that specific monster. However, this transformation comes with a severe restriction—the individual permanently loses the ability to transform into any other beast or monster. From that point on, they can only mimic the creature whose heart they consumed.
Among all the creatures in this region, the most powerful monster is the Cursed Basilisk.
Because of this, the young warriors of the tribe have always taken pride in hunting and consuming the heart of a Cursed Basilisk as part of their rite of passage.
Yet, despite being a long-standing tradition, this magical ritual has remained a controversial practice.
Many in the tribe strongly opposed it, arguing that devouring the heart of a monster went against their sacred duty as protectors of the jungle.
Dogan, however, was not one of those conservatives.
Instead, relying solely on his own strength, he captured a Cursed Basilisk alive and successfully completed the ritual.
His feat shook the entire forest dwarf community—after all, Cursed Basilisks were formidable creatures, known for their incredible resilience and petrification abilities.
After the ritual, Dogan shared the remains of the slain Cursed Basilisk with his companions and fellow tribesmen.
But then—
The curse was unleashed.
The entire tribe was wiped out in an instant.
Only one survivor managed to escape.
That was why, ever since, Dogan had continued to mutter those fateful words—
"We were cursed by the Cursed Basilisk."
Sakeer remained silent as he listened to Dogan's story.
Even after hearing everything, he couldn't make a definitive judgment.
However, there was one thing he now realized—he had overlooked something crucial about this so-called magical ritual.
During the battle, Sakeer had noticed something strange about Dogan's strength.
The opponent was a 'Wizard', capable of casting second-tier magic with a spellcasting level of at least eight or higher.
At the same time, Dogan also possessed the 'Forest Sacrificial' class, allowing him to transform into a Cursed Basilisk that was far larger than his original size.
Ordinarily, someone with such dual professions would have a fairly high combat level.
At least Level 21 or above.
And yet—
Aside from the raw strength boost he received after transforming, Dogan's overall combat ability wasn't particularly impressive.
It was an odd imbalance.
Sakeer narrowed his eyes.
The skill 'Wild Transformation' also had its own ranking system—
Level 1: One could only transform into creatures of a similar size.
Level 2: One could exceed their original size, but there were certain restrictions.
Level 3: There was no longer a size limit, but only those above Level 60 could achieve this level.
And yet, the forest dwarf tribe's magical ritual could forcefully break through this restriction.
A terrifying power.
"Pasha... Is he okay?"
Dogan turned his head, his weakened eyes filled with expectation as he gazed at Sakeer.
Sakeer met his gaze and gave a slight nod.
"He's fine," he replied with a faint smile.
Pasha, however, had long since perished—slain by Leinas. In the end, even Leinas herself had not escaped the curse's grasp.
Sakeer had no reason to reveal the truth to Dogan.
At this moment, lying was a kindness.
Dogan shakily raised his trembling hand, pressing it against his chest.
From within, he pulled out an aged, yellowed scroll made of bark and handed it to Sakeer.
"Take this… the ritual scroll," he whispered hoarsely.
His lips curled into a faint, bitter smile.
"Tell him… there's nothing to worry about."
Then, his voice grew even softer.
"I must atone for my sins."
His eyes dimmed, and his breathing slowed.
"Ancestors… please… forgive the Dogan Lizard… this sinful name…"
His arm fell limp.
Silence.
Sakeer stared at Dogan's lifeless body, a heavy stillness settling over him.
No experience points appeared in his system.
Instead, the lingering curse energy in Dogan's body flowed into him.
But at his current level as a Cursed Knight, this amount of curse energy was barely noticeable.
The moon hung high, and the stars shimmered across the sky.
By the time Sakeer returned to the surface with Dogan's corpse, the night had already fallen.
He chose a serene, beautiful spot to bury Dogan, carefully laying his body to rest beneath the earth.
Standing in front of the freshly made grave, Sakeer lifted his gaze toward the night sky.
At that moment—
He suddenly felt that this world had become startlingly real.
But he had no time to dwell on sentimentality.
"Now is not the time to stand still and sigh," he murmured to himself.
His expression calmed, and he opened his status panel to check his stats.
[Status Panel][Abilities]Innate Ability: [Player]
Overall Level: 24
Experience Slot: 17520 / 10000
Class:
Basic Class: Genius (Level 10)
Intermediate Class: Sword Master (Level 10)
Advanced Class: Magic Swordsman (Level 1), Cursed Knight (Level 3)
Skill Points: 40
Passive Skills: Item Box, Sword & Magic, Mana Infusion, Cursed Full Resistance, Dark Attribute Resistance (20%), No Rest, Slash Up (10%)
Active Skills: Instant Reflex, Four-Light Combo, Quick Slash, Stealth, Tracking
Magic Skills:
Level 1: Minor Healing, Magic Arrow, Odorless, Camouflage
Level 2: Item Identification, Magic Accumulation, Translation Magic
Level 3: Undead Spirit, Undead Manipulation
Level 4: Heat Up, Angel Summoning, Papermaking
Level 5: Resurrection of the Dead
Other Skills: Alchemy, Scroll Making, Mana Slash, Dark Wave, Shrinkage (2/day), Wild Transformation
[Attributes]Justice Value: 51 (Neutral)
HP: 173 (13%)
MP: 28 (2%)
Physical Attack: 173 (13%)
Physical Defense: 58 (4%)
Dexterity: 113 (8%)
Magic Attack: 58 (4%)
Magic Defense: 28 (2%)
Comprehensive Resistance: 150 (9%)
Specificity: 60 (5%)
Total Strength: 60%
(End of Chapter)