Curselock: A Cursed LITRPG Adventure

Isobel slipped out of the shadows, stepping across the Captain's quarters like a cat stalking along the edge of a riverbank. But instead of hunting for fish, Isobel was hunting for paper. Reports, to be specific. The kind the Captain liked to try and keep hidden from her. The kind she specifically told him she’d see one way or another.

With a rough punch to the locked drawer in his desk, she ripped the whole drawer out, sending papers flying. This wasn’t her first time doing this, so her eyes quickly scanned the fluttering pages for new ones. With a darting hand, she snapped the report from the air.

She read it quickly, footsteps sounding in the hallway. The Captain had threatened to kick her out if she was caught again, or rather, if she made a mess again – she’d never allow someone as lowly as the Captain to catch her in the act. But the mess? It was beneath her to clean it up, at least she thought so.

And it was during this last time the Captain berated her for breaking into his quarters that Isobel almost thought about returning to the Inquisitors… But then she remembered how they didn’t deserve her, had tried to kill her, and Leland, and how Aunty P was a—

Her thoughts halted like an arrow to a tree. Her eyes went back, rereading the report.

She blinked, rotating the paper in her hand to check it for magical interference or forgery.

It was clean.

The footsteps grew louder, but Isobel didn’t move. Instead, she kicked her feet up on the Captain’s desk, ready to do battle with the man. Jingling keys sounded from the door, then it creaked open, and a man walked through.

He didn’t make it a half step before saying, “Isobel—"

“What is this?” she asked instantly, waving the paper around as if it was on fire.

“A... report?” He stepped into the room, his long strides taking him directly to his desk. He nudged her boots off his— He frowned, unable to kick her sand-ridden boots from his desk. He sighed. “We’ve talked about thi—”

“Yeah, don’t care. When was this made?”

The Captain took it from her, finding the encoded symbols of the Palemarrow army at the bottom. “Looks like an hour ago. Section one.”

And with that, Isobel was on her feet, heading out of the room.

“Where are you going?” the Captain called. “Don’t you dare interfere with them! They saved lives!”

Isobel ignored him. Why would she hurt them?

Leland stared out across the landscape of sand and more sand. He sighed, looking at a crudely drawn map one of the soldiers had made for him. Unlike Sand Castle, this Tear’s fort was more like a campus. From individual housing around the bastion itself with plenty of areas for the civilian volunteers and soldiers to the maze of hallways within the fort itself.

And that was just the beginning, looking off the side of the fort’s wall, Leland spotted no less than six mages creating walls and spreading defenses. Sand, stone, metal, the walls were being made from any Legacy and any material. But he figured that was normal, at least for army-operations. Someone had to build the fortification, which, he supposed, meant Sybil and Aunty P were looking to create a permanent presence here.

Beside the increased mana, endless sand, and abnormal amount of monsters, this black desert could one day be an adventurer and soldier’s paradise. Plenty of things to fight and kill, monster parts to gather and craft with, and limitless possibilities for personal growth.

Right now, however, Leland had only one thing on his mind – finding the Captain’s quarters. He squinted at the map, musing about the poorly drawn depth. Did he go up? Or maybe it was down? He sighed, hoping that the others didn’t find any trouble.

They were escorting the group of soldiers back from the battlefield, Leland traveling ahead to announce their arrival. Of course he could have sent Zeke with their letter of introduction, but after the “tests” Captain Tar put them through…

“Um, excuse me?” Leland asked a man dragging a box of metal shavings. “Can you point me toward the Captain’s quarters?”

The man brushed his hands against his smock. “This section of the fort is for smithing. You want—” He gazed over the edge of the wall before pointing, “that section. Administration.”

Leland followed his finger, finding a short stubby building connected to the main fort like it was an afterthought. Dozens of people entered and exited, some carrying large stacks of paper, others cocky like they were kings of the land. But one caught his eye, or more specifically, fluttering wings caught his eye.

Without so much as pausing to think, Leland stepped onto the barrier preventing one from falling off the fort. He heard the man shout a warning before stepping off into a free fall. Two of his wing contracts had already been used, which left his least favorite of the three. Draconic leather ripped the back of his shirt as two sets of membrane and bone broke his skin.

They flapped against the raging wind of freefall, easing his descent into something akin to a feather falling from a bedframe. The moment his feet touched the ground, his wings disappeared, causing onlookers to question whether or not they had just seen a young man fall from the top of the fort.

“Isobel,” he called, his voice as hard and stoic as he could muster. Showing “fear” in front of the Huntress was… not ideal.

She paused, the leather armor she was tightening seemingly forgotten. Her dragonfly-like wings shuddered and skipped before speeding up. Sand and dust kicked up around her, mirroring the effect of her poorly tied long hair. She turned.

“Small world, eh?” Leland asked, making sure to lock eyes with the woman. No fear, no fear, he chanted in his head.

She cocked her head to the side. “I suppose,” she muttered, studying the young man before her. “You seem… passable.”

“What?”

“We haven’t seen each other in a month or so. I expected you to be less in-shape.”

A vein bulged on Leland’s temple. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, while you were cozying up to your girlfriend, I expected you to become complacent.” Isobel smirked to herself. “Let me guess. The quiet one and the dumb one forced you on an adventure?”

And there it was. Mocking him and Sybil, both Glenny and Jude, and questioning his work ethic. The worst part was, she was right. But Leland had known Isobel long enough to know not to bite at the hook. Baiting was a way of life with her, and the best way to win was to simply not play.

“Glenny’s not dumb.”

Expecting a wildly different answer, Isobel’s retort came out a second later than it should have. “You know who—”

“And Jude’s not quiet. He got a flute for his birthday, and while he’s not as good with it as his harmonica, when he and Jude Two play together, everyone enjoys it.”

“I see. Well, while you three sat around playing music—”

“Four,” Leland interrupted.

“you four sat around—”

“Well, I guess five if you include both Judes.”

Isobel lurched, her weight shifting between her heels and the balls of her feet. “What? Did you bring Sybil?”

“Gelo.”

“The cub?”

“Indeed. We broke her mom out of the dungeon, and now Gelo’s with us.”

“Oh? Floe is with you as—”

Leland held up a hand. “No.” He glanced around. “We can talk about it more in depth later… but for now, let’s just say there’s a new Lord wandering about.”

Now it was Isobel’s turn to have a bulging vein. “Uh huh. Right.”

Leland gave her a smile.

“Wait, seriously? How—”

“Sightless King’s Claim.”

Isobel flinched. “You used—”

“Yup.”

She massaged her temples. “Anything else you feel the need to share?”

Thinking for a moment, Leland took a step closer and whispered, “We saved an immortal from world Alpha. The Lords took him. Also, I’ve been researching a new way to gather power outside of Legacies.” He pointed at his forehead. “Don’t know much about it, but even got some special fancy gem thingy.”

“’Thingy?’”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Leland nodded. “What about you?”

“I’ve been killing Witches and their helpers.” Isobel weighed adding more to that. “And I went to see my family.”

The words came out splintered and hushed, as if just thinking about her family pained her. And, in more ways than one, it did. How long had it been since she talked about them? Talked to someone about them. She’d mentioned her daughter to Leland a few times now, but never her “family” not in a way it mattered. Not like they were anything but the dead.

“And?” Leland asked.

“Still dead,” she replied.

He gave her a look.

She sighed, saying, “I don’t know what you want me to say. I stood over their graves and whispered private things to them.”

“Did you cry?”

Her eyes turned predatory. “Watch yourself.”

Leland shrugged. “It’s good to cry. At least, that’s what the Lord of Waterworks says.”

Isobel’s upper lip twitched. “That’s not a real Lord.”

“It could be.” Leland cleared his throat, stiffening his posture and placing his hands together. “I, Leland Silver, hereby nominate Isobe—”

A fist connected to his jaw, or at least, it would have, if Leland wasn’t expecting the sucker punch. Instead, bursts of lightning exploded from his feet, each backpedaling step he took sending sand flying.

“Oh?” he asked. “What’s this? Old Isobel would have been able to land that hit. And you tried to lecture me about becoming complacent?” He made an over the top cackle.

Like a snake coiling around its prey, a centipede formed out of nothing, wrapping around Isobel’s arm before solidifying like a statue. A hearty bolt of pure toxic miasma formed in its sharp maw.

“I told you to watch yourself, boy,” she snarled.

Leland’s laughing only continued. He wiped a tear from his eye. “Know where the Captain is? I have a letter of intro—"

Isobel released the bolt, the projectile flying through the air with far greater speed than Leland had ever seen her fire. It sliced across his cheek, drawing blood while also causing the neighboring skin to dim and crack. The bolt then continued on further, smashing into the fort’s wall.

“What was that for!?” Leland shouted, magic already coursing through his body. He had seen first hand how strong a toxin her bolts were, so he didn’t hold back in healing himself. Four healing spells activated, webs of mist launched from his body, cascading the area in warmth and harmony.

Even Isobel paused in her rage to gawk at the sight, not to mention the gawking of the soldiers and adventurers rushing about.

“I told you to watch yourself,” she muttered, her eyes tracing the lines of unregulated raw power.

“I thought we were bantering! I wouldn’t have—” Leland groaned. “Isobel, I would not have said any of that if I—” He gritted his teeth. “Sorry, alright. Sorry.”

Isobel let the moment stew for a minute longer before turning on her heel and motioning for him to follow. And once she turned away from him, she had to fight herself from smiling softly.

Family, huh? she asked herself.