Awakening of the Weakest Slayer

Everyone's face was a mask of disbelief, a stunned tableau of shock and confusion. Only Sezel had the nerve to grin while being in such a situation.

Well, the situation was not bad. The tables had just turned upside down. With Mari out of danger and almost all of the beasts dead, the Lord was isolated, a god without his worshippers.

Shiki's face was still gaped in shock, his mind struggling to process the sudden, impossible turn of events. "Ho—"

"How did I do that?" Sezel said, his voice a dangerously low whisper.

Shiki's eyes widened, a flicker of fear in their depths. He gritted his teeth. "Get him! Kill him! It doesn't matter!" he yelled at the remaining three Flesh Reapers, his voice an ultimately futile command.

But nothing moved. Shiki's gaze frantically moved to where the Flesh Reapers stood, and he stumbled back, almost falling over because of the rubble that littered the ground. "Wha… what are you?" he stammered.

Vesta was jerking the black blood off her sword. The three Flesh Reapers were nothing more than a heap of corpses beside her.

Sezel grinned. "Now then," he declared, his voice echoed through the vast, empty Sanctuary. "I shall be the one to ask the questions."

Suddenly, Shiki's body started trembling. Then, he fell to his knees and finally, he fell face first on the ground.

Sezel's eyes squinted at the sudden change. Vesta was already running towards Shiki's unconscious body.

'What is he up to now?' Sezel wondered, a new, unsettling question adding to the questions in his mind.

But nonetheless, with no beasts to protect the stage now, it would be a piece of cake to remove the curtains and see what actually was behind it. He was sure of one thing: whatever it was, it wouldn't flee. Because most likely, it couldn't.

Sezel turned and started to move towards the stage, his heart a drum in his chest. It was not from fear, but from a strange, exhilarating kind of excitement, a feeling he didn't know he could feel. He would finally be able to look at the true identity of the Lord of this factory area.

Step after step, Sezel continued to move forward towards the stage. But before he reached the stage, he stopped in front of Mari and crouched down beside her.

She instantly hugged him, her small arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and broke into tears, her small body wracked with sobs.

Sezel stayed silent for a long, stretched moment, his hand gently patting her back. "I am really sorry," he said slowly, his voice a gentle murmur. "Will you forgive me?"

Mari shook her head, her face buried in his shoulder. "Yes," she said, her voice a tear-choked whisper. "But make a promise that mister will not put himself in danger again."

Sezel's eyes widened. He looked at the little girl, a faint, sad smile on his face, and simply nodded. Though he knew it was a lie. He knew that he wouldn't be able to keep himself from being in dangerous situations. After all, that was exactly what the curse said.

Then he stood up, and once again resumed his trek towards the stage. As he took a few steps, suddenly, he felt his vision swimming, a strange, disorienting wave of exhaustion washing over him. What? His body felt so tired, so utterly, completely drained, as if it would just give up and fall asleep right here, right now.

But he kept walking, his steps slow. And as he climbed the first step up the stage, his head started to pain, a dull, persistent throb that gradually became unbearable.

But this time, there was no voice speaking in his head. Just the pain. Sezel gritted his teeth and kept moving.

By the third step, his vision was blurred to just a point. He couldn't even feel his body anymore. His breath was ragged and heavy, his lungs burning.

What is going on? Huff… huff…

And finally, on the last step, as he reached the stage, he fell to his knees, gasping for air, his body a weak, trembling mess. Sezel tried to push himself up, but his hands gave out, and just then, a wave of nausea hit him like a tide, and he puked his guts out, his body wracked with violent, uncontrollable spasms.

"What happened, Sezel?" Vesta's voice was a distant echo, a worried sound that seemed to come from a million miles away.

He tried to turn, to look at her, but all he saw was a twisting, distorted world.

Sezel rubbed his eyes, but nothing changed. It was as if his mind were making illusions, his own senses betraying him. And the skull-splitting pain was not doing any better. It was increasing with every passing moment, a relentless, all-consuming agony that he was sure would burst his head open.

Sezel clenched his jaw and resumed his way towards the curtains. He crawled through the haze of his mind.

He took heavy, ragged breaths, his vision a blur of swirling, chaotic colors. He tried to push his body upright, but it was as if he were pushing on a rock wall, his own strength failing him.

"Sezel, here," he heard Vesta's clear, steady voice. She was standing just beside him, her face a mask of concern. She passed him a helping hand.

He took it. Her touch was warm, a grounding, reassuring presence, and pushed his body back to his feet.

'Is the bastard trying to control me?' That was the only logical explanation Sezel could think of. The only thing that made any sense.

But it didn't matter much at the end. He would not fall for it. Not now. He clenched the edge of the curtain, his hands were bloody, but he didn't care if they hurt.

He slid the curtain with all the force he could muster. And as the curtain flew by, the secrets it had been holding behind became visible.

Sezel and Vesta, who took the first glance, had their faces twisted in disgust.