Immediately, the system screen flickered.
[ Ding!
[ Warning: The mission is optional, but once accepted, it cannot be withdrawn. Failure to complete it will result in severe punishment. ]
Lazry blinked at the glowing red letters. "Punishment? What kind of punishment?" he muttered nervously. Before he could even finish reading, the words shifted again.
[ Mission accepted. The map will now be displayed. ]
A transparent map appeared before him, spinning slowly until it locked onto a location just a few streets away. It was close—too close. His stomach twisted when he saw the blinking red mark.
[ Target location: Abandoned tunnel, Sector Nine.
[ Estimated distance: 2.7 kilometers. ]
Lazry stared blankly at the screen. "The abandoned tunnel?" he whispered. His memory flashed with the image of that place—the pitch-black entrance, the lingering fog of curse energy that no one dared to approach. Even veteran Conjurers avoided it.
His jaw tightened. "I have to go there? Just to… do nothing?"
But then something happened that made his breath stop. He felt a strange tug in his lower part of his body—a faint, draining sensation that made him wince.
"What the—" he muttered, looking down, and realization struck him like lightning. "Wait, what the hell?!"
The system beeped calmly in response.
[ One of your curse objects has been used as an exchange offering. ]
He froze, eyes widening in disbelief. "Curse objects? That's one of my freakin balls!! You made one of my balls an exchange offer if I don't complete the mission?!"
No, no, no—this system was insane. It said do nothing, but now it was taking things from him. He couldn't help but grab his hair in panic. "You've got to be kidding me! One of my balls! My precious! That's not just some trinket, that's part of my life! That's part of me as a man!"
He cursed under his breath, pacing in circles. "This system is a damn scam," he muttered. "It's gonna take everything from me."
But then he looked back at the map, the red mark pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Seconds. The missions only needed seconds to complete. That meant the danger was so immense that surviving even five seconds there was an achievement.
The realization made cold sweat drip down his spine. "I really screwed up this time," he whispered. "But it's too late. There's no way back."
He gritted his teeth and pushed himself to think. "Alright… I need protection. Something. Anything to help me last twenty-five seconds."
He started rummaging around the apartment, looking for charms, talismans, even curse stones. He didn't know what would work against whatever was waiting inside that tunnel. His pulse was racing so fast it hurt.
Then, without warning, the door burst open.
"Young Master!"
Lazry flinched, turning toward the door. Butler Winston stood there, panting heavily, his formal suit wrinkled as if he had run the whole way. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the shattered phone on the floor and Lazry's pale face.
"Oh heavens," Winston breathed, stepping closer. "Young Master… what happened here?"
Lazry blinked, confused. "What are you doing here?"
Winston hesitated. "I… received your call earlier. You sounded strange. When I arrived, I feared the worst. And now I see this." He gestured toward the broken phone and the mess scattered across the floor. "Young Master, please, tell me you haven't given up on life."
Lazry's mouth fell open. "What?!"
"I know things have been difficult," Winston continued, his tone trembling with emotion. "The clan has turned their backs on you. The madam has been cold. But you must not lose hope. Even in the darkest days, the blood of the Lycannis flows strong. You are not alone, Young Master."
Lazry just stared at him, dumbfounded.
Winston stepped forward and bowed deeply. "If everyone else abandons you, I will not. The servants of the Lycannis family still remember who you are. You are our Young Master. As long as you breathe, you have us."
"Wait—" Lazry tried to interrupt, but Winston kept talking, voice growing more passionate.
"I've watched you since you were a child," he said, his voice cracking. "You were kind, humble, and hardworking. You never treated your servants poorly, never flaunted your title. But that humility made them see you as weak. They forgot the honor of serving you. But I haven't, Young Master. I haven't forgotten!"
Lazry blinked several times. "Hold on, are you crying?"
Winston sniffed and wiped his eyes. "If that is what it takes to wake you up, then yes! You cannot throw away your life because others failed to see your worth! You are a Lycannis! You have power, pride, and a future!"
Lazry just stood there, stunned. The misunderstanding hit him like a wave. "Wait… are you saying… you think I'm trying to kill myself?"
Winston looked him dead in the eye. "A shattered phone. A destroyed room. A boy who lost everything in one night. What else am I supposed to think?"
Lazry sighed, pressing a hand to his face. "You're insane."
Winston knelt before him, voice soft but desperate. "Please, Young Master. Promise me you won't end your life. I can bear your anger, your orders, even your hatred—but not your death."
"Stop it!" Lazry shouted. "I'm not gonna die!"
Winston froze, blinking rapidly. "You're… not?"
"No!" Lazry ran his hand through his messy hair. "I'm not planning to die, alright? I'm just… doing something important."
"Something important?" Winston repeated suspiciously.
"Yes," Lazry said, straightening his back. "Something dangerous, actually."
Winston's eyes widened. "Dangerous?"
Lazry paused for a moment, thinking fast. Then an idea struck him. Wait… what if he used this? He needed protection, didn't he? The mission didn't say he couldn't bring people.
He slowly turned toward the butler. "Tell me something, Winston. What you said earlier—was it true? That you and the servants will stand by me?"
Winston nodded fiercely. "Yes, Young Master. No matter what happens, we are your people."
"Even if I order something insane?"
"Even then," Winston said without hesitation. "You are a Lycannis. We obey."
Lazry stared at him, lips curving into a small smile. "Good. Because I'm going to need all of you."
Winston blinked, confused. "All of us?"
"Yes," Lazry said firmly. "You said it yourself. I've never used my name, never used the power that comes with it. Maybe that's why everyone steps on me. But not today."
He paused, touching his chin thoughtfully. "Can you gather as many servants as possible within one hour?"
Winston stood straight, instantly shifting back into professional mode. "One hour? That is more than enough, Young Master. Give me thirty minutes."
"Perfect," Lazry said, crossing his arms. "Do it."
Without wasting a second, Winston took out his communication talisman and began barking orders with surprising authority. "This is Butler Winston of the Lycannis Family! Mobilize the elite household team immediately! Prepare ground and air transport!"
Lazry watched him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. The man's tone changed completely, filled with sharpness and confidence.
Minutes later, Lazry heard the whirring sound of engines approaching from outside. He followed Winston out of the apartment building, where a sleek black car waited for them. They climbed in, and the vehicle sped off through the empty streets.
"Where are we going?" Lazry asked casually.
"To a nearby landing field," Winston replied, still holding his talisman. "The elite servants will arrive there by helicopter."
"Helicopters?" Lazry muttered under his breath. "You guys mobilize those for me? "
"Of course, young master," Winston said with a hint of pride. "You haven't used your status in the family all your life. Even if madam does not favor you, you are still her son. You are the son of one of the strongest curse beast conjurers in the world!"
Within minutes, they arrived at a wide, flat clearing at the edge of the city. The cold wind blew through the grass as Winston stepped out and adjusted his coat. The sound of blades soon filled the air, followed by several dark shapes descending from the sky.
Helicopters.
They landed one by one, their engines roaring as figures in dark suits and armor stepped out in formation. Each of them carried weapons enchanted with faint curse energy, their faces hidden behind black masks.
Lazry's eyes widened as he stepped closer, the wind whipping through his hair. The air around them felt heavy with power.
Winston turned toward him with a proud smile. "Young Master, these are the elite servants of the Lycannis Family."
Lazry's breath caught in his throat. "These… these are the servants?"
He stared at them in disbelief, his eyes wide and glinting in the night light. "Are they really… elite?"