Chapter 131: Dark Secrets

Interrogation Room,

Inside the second cell, the air was thick with the stench of fear and blood.

Corvin stood calmly before the restrained man, his pale skin almost glowing under the dim crystal light.

He raised his hand.

“Let’s try this again,” Corvin said, voice steady. “Tell me who you serve.”

The man’s lips quivered. “I… I can’t… please…!”

Corvin’s expression didn’t change. The air shimmered faintly as multiple spell circles began spinning in front of him — crimson, violet, and black intertwining.

“Fourth Circle Magic — Agony Vein Bind.”

The man’s veins bulged, glowing faintly purple before his screams filled the room.

But before Corvin could press further, black blood began oozing from the man’s eyes and nose.

Zane’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The same scene repeated again.

The man’s body convulsed. His eyes rolled white. And with a final twisted whisper —

“Glory to the Vessel…”

— his head exploded into a burst of thick black blood.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Corvin sighed deeply and turned away. “Damn it…”

The third cell. The fourth.

No matter what method Corvin used — flame torture, mind scour, sensory illusion, or even divine detection — the results remained the same.

Each of the captured men screamed, bled, and ended the same way — their heads bursting after muttering that same cryptic phrase.

When Corvin and Zane finally stepped out of the fourth room, black stains coated the barrier walls behind them.

Inside lay another headless corpse — this one wearing the signature black cloth of the group’s leader.

Corvin’s expression was grim. “This… this never happened before,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Lucen’s black eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

Corvin exhaled heavily. “They seem to be afflicted with some sort of curse. Something that triggers when they try to speak of their secrets.”

Zane folded his arms, his voice calm but sharp.

“Maybe this curse activates the moment they attempt to share information they’re forbidden to reveal.”

Corvin frowned, shaking his head. “But that makes no sense… My magic actively blocks external curses during interrogation. I made sure of it when I t— ahem interrogate them.”

Mira Elesyn, who had been silently observing, adjusted her gloves and stepped closer.

“If your counter-curse magic couldn’t suppress it,” she said quietly, “then the curse must be something far beyond standard magic… something ancient or crafted by a high entity.”

The room fell silent again.

Lucen’s black eyes glinted faintly under the magic light. “Then whoever sent them… was prepared for failure.”

Zane’s lips curved into a faint smile.

“Well,” he said softly, “that makes things a bit more interesting.”

Corvin’s brows furrowed, his gaze fixed on the ground as he tried to piece together what went wrong.

Zane stood beside him, silent—his expression calm, almost detached. But his violet eyes shifted subtly to the side, glinting with quiet amusement as they rested on Corvin.

“If only we had something that could nullify the curse,” Zane said casually, his tone light—almost teasing.

Corvin didn’t notice the faint smirk playing on Zane’s lips. His mind was already spinning through possibilities.

“…Although I really don’t want to use it,” he muttered under his breath, “but now, it seems I’ll have to.”

Zane arched a brow, pretending to be curious. “Oh? Use what, exactly?”

Corvin turned his hazy blue eyes toward him. “A cursed artifact,” he said slowly. “To be precise—an S-rank cursed artifact.”

Zane’s expression shifted to one of mild confusion, though his eyes shimmered with hidden amusement. “Cursed artifact?” he echoed.

Lucen, who had been standing silently, finally spoke, his deep voice steady and sharp.

“You’re not from here, right, Professor Zane? Maybe you’re not familiar with them. Let me explain.”

He leaned back slightly, his black eyes darkening.

“There are two kinds of artifacts. The first—man-made—created by magic engineers like Professor Mira Sorenhal. Functional, stable, and predictable.”

Mira gave a slight nod, crossing her arms as Lucen continued.

“The second kind,” Lucen said, “are ancient artifacts. Those found in dungeons or ruins—crafted by civilizations that existed long before our era.”

His tone lowered. “Among them… are the cursed artifacts.”

Corvin added, “These artifacts possess both a positive and a negative property. Their power comes at a price—the stronger the effect, the harsher the curse tied to it.”

Zane’s eyes gleamed faintly with interest. “So… an S-rank cursed artifact, huh? That sounds rather entertaining.”

Corvin gave him a side glance, clearly not sharing that sentiment. “Entertaining is not the word I’d use.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wait here. I’ll fetch it from the research lab. It’s sealed under multiple wards.”

Lucen nodded. “Be quick. We don’t know if that curse starts working on last one too .”

Corvin nodded and turned toward the exit, his black coat fluttering slightly as he walked away.

Zane watched him go, a calm smile forming on his lips.

“This is getting more and more fun,” he murmured softly, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.

Two minutes later, the door creaked open again.

Corvin stepped in, carrying a rectangular dark-blue box with faint sealing runes pulsing across its surface. His expression was grim, but his eyes burned with determination.

“Here it is…” he said quietly.

Lucen and the other professors—Mira, Iralyn, and Varris—watched intently from behind the glass wall.

Zane’s gaze, however, lingered on the box itself, studying every detail of the faint magical current swirling around it.

Corvin approached the table where the **last man—their leader—**was bound. The man’s breathing was ragged, his wrists glowing faintly from the mana-suppressing cuffs crafted by Mira Sorenhal herself.

Zane followed Corvin inside the room, the air heavy with restrained tension.

With careful precision, Corvin unsealed the box.

A soft click echoed as the lid lifted, revealing what lay within—

A slender, dull-silver band inlaid with fragmented onyx runes, each shard pulsing faintly like a dying heartbeat.

Corvin looked at it for a moment, then spoke with a hint of reluctance.

“This artifact… is called the Hexlock Charm.”

Even through the glass, Mira’s sharp eyes narrowed at the name. Iralyn folded her arms, murmuring, “So you’re really going that far…”

Corvin ignored the comment. He picked up the cold, lifeless band and turned toward the masked man bound to the interrogation chair.

The prisoner flinched, a hint of fear leaking through his composure.

“Let’s see how long you last,” Corvin muttered.

He pressed the Hexlock Charm against the man’s forearm. Instantly, the dull runes flickered to life—black and violet lines crawling across the prisoner’s skin like veins awakening.

“Hands on the table,” Corvin ordered.

The man hesitated, but Corvin forced his wrists down with invisible pressure. The cuffs tightened, locking him in place.

Then Corvin straightened, casting a brief glance at Zane.

“Let’s begin.”

Zane leaned casually against the interrogation table, eyes glinting with amusement as he watched Corvin prepare the artifact.

“So,” he said, tone almost teasing, “how does this cursed toy of yours work?”

Corvin didn’t mind the smirk—he’d expected it. “This artifact, the Hexlock Charm, gives the wearer a curse of stillness,” he explained. “It paralyzes them, suppresses all active curses, and—most importantly—it absorbs any destructive enforcement curse.”

Zane tilted his head slightly, intrigued.

Corvin continued, “When someone with this on is bound by a curse that triggers death for revealing secrets, the Hexlock locks the activation energy inside its runes, preventing backlash. Essentially, it traps the curse before it detonates.”

Zane nodded, smiling faintly. “Hmm… nice explanation.”

Corvin turned his focus back to the masked man, his expression darkening.

“Now,” he said coldly, “tell me—who are your people?”

The leader gave a low, mocking laugh. “Hahaha… you think I’ll tell you? You can’t stop us anyway…”

Corvin’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like you didn’t listen to your teammates scream.”

He raised his hand.

“6th Circle Magic — Mind-Pierce Spine.”

Six large magic circles flared into existence behind the man, radiating a sharp purple glow. From them, spectral needles formed—long, thin, and hazy like phantom blades.

With a flick of Corvin’s wrist, they launched forward.

The needles buried themselves into different points along the man’s spine.

Instantly—

“Aaaaaaarrrrghhhhhh!!!”

The man’s body convulsed, restrained by the cuffs as the agony surged through every nerve. His voice cracked, eyes rolling back from the unrelenting pain.

Corvin’s voice was cold, emotionless. “Now every time you lie—or refuse to answer—these needles will remind you what pain truly means.”

He leaned closer. “Now tell me. Who are you people?”

The man’s voice broke between screams. “I—I can’t! I’ll die!”

Zane crossed his arms. “You’ll die regardless,” he said evenly. “Might as well make it quick.”

The man’s body trembled, sweat dripping from his chin. Then came another cry of agony as the needles pulsed again.

“AAAAAARGHHHHHH!!!”

Finally, between gasps, he screamed, “Please! Stop! I’ll tell you—please!”

Corvin waved his hand, and the pressure eased slightly. The man sagged forward, breathing hard.

“Speak.”

“We… we are from an organization… called The Vassel…” he rasped.

Corvin exchanged a glance with Zane. “Hmm… go on. Why did you try to kill our students? What was your goal?”

The man’s eyes widened. “I… I can’t… please, I’ll—”

Corvin snapped his fingers.

The needles twisted.

“AAAAARGHHHHHH!!!”

The prisoner’s screams echoed through the glass.

“I’ll tell!” he sobbed. “Just stop the pain!”

Corvin lowered his hand again. The pain faded, though the needles still pulsed faintly.

The man’s breathing was uneven, broken. “We… we were given orders to eliminate the future generation…”

Corvin’s brows furrowed. “Eliminate the future generation? Why? What do you mean by that?”

The man trembled, unable to even move his head due to the stillness curse. “I can’t tell… please… I can’t…”

Corvin’s expression hardened, his fingers twitching to summon another pulse.

“IT’S—IT’S BECAUSE—”

Corvin’s eyes widened suddenly. He looked at the Hexlock Charm—dark cracks had begun to crawl across its surface, spreading like veins of black lightning.

Even a S-rank artifact was failing to contain the curse.

Corvin quickly cut the magic. The pain stopped instantly, and the man slumped, gasping.

Zane watched, eyes narrowing in quiet interest.

Corvin exhaled and asked carefully, “Then tell me about your organization—the Vassel.”

The man’s voice quivered. “We… we are a multi-species organization… My team—we are from the tier known as the Forsaken…”

His breathing hitched again. “That’s… all I can tell. Please… no more…”

The faint glow of the Hexlock Charm dimmed- its runes flickering weakly as the interrogation room fell silent.

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