The Devil’s Cage

Bang bang bang!

Kieran was practising his kicks on a sandbag that was as tall as a man. The sandbag hung over the ceiling, and each time he kicked the sandbag, a powerful blow sounded.

The powerful blows continuously sounded for a full five minutes before they paused.

Huu, Huu!

Kieran panted and wiped his sweat. The tiredness on his face was unconcealable, but likewise, his eyes were also glistening with a bright shine.

The guesses he had in his heart were verified in these few days.

The most prominent guess was about his skills and attribute.

This dungeon world had been interfered with by some external forces. Although his body was limited to being at the peak level of a commoner, his skills weren’t, and once he unlocked them, they would return to Transcendence level.

However, Transcendence level skills were incompatible with a commoner’s peak physique.

It may seem unbelievable in the eyes of other commoners, but it wasn’t enough to supply the usage of Transcendence skills.

The simplest example: Transcendence [Hand-to-Hand Combat] basic requirements were Strength D+, Agility D+, Constitution D+.

Kieran’s current stats were all capped at E+. He was a major rank behind, but of course, he could still use the Transcendence level of the skill. It was just that the damage he dished out was greatly halved, and more importantly, the change in consumption!

According to Kieran’s calculation, whenever he fought using his legs, he would consume twice the stamina. During the fight with Bomer, he obviously felt different. and in the past few days, he started to remember all these small changes in his mind.

It wasn’t just his habits though. Kieran also knew the importance of performing this practise.

A person who didn’t know the limit of his strength would always fall short to a person who knew and evenly distributed his strength.

Kieran didn’t want to become the former, especially in a strange dungeon world such as this.

He took sips from the cup of warm water added with salt before going back to the sandbag.

After taking a deep breath, Kieran dished out his kicks again.

Bang, Bang Bang!

His quick consecutive kicks caused the noise to echo in the area.

But unlike before, the noise was softer and lasted longer.

10 minutes later, Kieran stopped and looked like he was at ease.

He didn’t just waste the past few days without achieving anything.

After validating his guesses about his stats and skills, he started to adjust his strength output in order to match his current weakend stats so that he could bring out the full potential.

In simpler words, he practised [Hand-to-hand Combat] from Basic all the way to Transcendence again, mastering his own tempo.

It wasn’t an easy task though, as Kieran had failed many times.

Thankfully, Kieran wasn’t a person who was afraid to fail, so he succeeded in the end.

He didn’t just adapt his skill level to his current stats, he even got a different understanding of mastering his skills.

Although the skill tab didn’t display it in exact words, the peculiar feeling lingered in his heart.

Kieran was sure about that, but he still felt like he was lacking something somewhere.

Despite being unable to pinpoint where this feeling of lacking came from, he was quite certain that if he could find it, it would boost his strength for quite a bit.

Therefore, Kieran adjusted himself while testing out other skills, hoping to find that ‘inspiration’.

Kieran didn’t try everything though. Those skills that didn’t meet the basic requirements were not on the testing list; for example [Sword Skill, Myriad Viper]!

[Sword Skill, Myriad Viper] Basic level already required a B rank Spirit. Kieran was currently stuck at E+ Spirit; a gap of almost three major ranks was like an impassable chasm.

Besides, Spirit attribute was quite mysterious in itself. Kieran reserved a certain level of alertness for it.

Depleting his stamina might result in temporary exhaustion, but what if his Spirit was depleted?

He might suffer permanent brain damage.

It wasn’t an uneducated guess though, it was what he deduced after gradually understanding the connection between Spirit and the soul. Although he had no evident proof, as long as it had the slightest risk of damaging his soul, Kieran’s character would not allow him to take the risk without guarantee. After all, according to his current plan, it was only a matter of time before he unlocked all his attributes again.

The cumulation of ‘reverse energy’ from the past few days already granted him three unlocking chances. On top of that, the notifications about ‘reverse energy’ were still popping up endlessly.

Soon, the fourth time would come, but compared to its speed in the first two days, the speed had obviously slowed down on the third day.

“After the freshness passes, people will naturally forget? What a scary competitive scene,” Kieran sighed softly.

He could imagine the panic and despair of a popular person when they thought they would be forgotten by society. Unless said person had something to hold on to, they might do something outrageous.

They might look inconceivable in the eyes of the commoners, but in the eyes of the popular ones and those around them, it seemed very reasonable.

Once a person tasted the benefits of popularity, any other thing would be tasteless, like power.

Power is a divine potion and also a poison.

Once consumed, one will be intoxicated.

However, Kieran was not one of them. His goal was clear and he would never get lost.

Dak Dak Dak.

Kieran walked up the stairs. When he came out of the underground training ground, he saw Eckart sitting on the sofa in the living room.

Behind Eckart was a ferocious-looking, buff bodyguard.

Not just behind Eckart, as throughout the villa, there were three more similar bodyguards stationed in each corner, providing Kieran with 24/7 security.

It was what Eckart arranged.

After realizing the Bomber was from Noroid, the director planned everything in the shortest time possible, and when Nuna appeared on behalf of the Hypnotist Association, the director increased the security.

In fact, if it weren’t for the security company having a shortage of manpower, Eckart would really hire a group of armed bodyguards around Kieran and himself.

“How is it? Getting used to the place? You want me to find someone to help you with your loneliness?” Eckart waved at Kieran.

Since their working relationship had strengthened, both of them had gotten closer. They were on the level where jokes and chats between friends was acceptable.

“No need. This place is nice enough, I don’t want to be disturbed by strangers.”

Kieran rejected Eckart’s suggestion seriously. He knew if he didn’t do it, Eckart would really find someone for him.

No one should ever underestimate the resources of a director of a TV Station.

Kieran understood that the first day he moved into the villa.

The scene was the worst for him, and he did not want to experience it a second time.

“Hmm, it is a special time now. Strangers will really cause problems. Damn it, Noroid Church,” Eckart nodded and cursed the one responsible again.

Kieran, however, didn’t correct Eckart’s wrong thinking. He knew once he did, it would trigger endless trivial and useless questions from him.

He didn’t care about being labeled as an apostle, but when he was judged by a doubtful gaze by someone he considered a familiar, he couldn’t let it be.

So Kieran shifted the topic.

“The food isn’t good enough though,” Kieran said seriously again.

“Guess I’ll have to hire the best chef then. But some chefs aren’t hirable with money; they prefer to be in their own restaurant, running their own brand.” Eckart laid his hands open, looking helpless.

The man he considered a collaborator before him was no doubt an excellent person. Whether in terms of capabilities, personality or even morals, Kieran was exceptionally reliable.

It was just that his stomach was too picky.

Some dishes that Eckart considered delicious couldn’t even be exchanged for a ‘good’ from Kieran, yet Kieran still tried his best to eat everything on the plate.

A conflicting action, at least in Eckart’s viewpoint, but he didn’t dislike it.

So, Eckart did his best in making the arrangements.

“I assure you, if everything goes smoothly, you will taste the cooking of a true master tonight,”

Eckart said as he took a paper bag from the bodyguard.

“Have a look at this. It’s the materials for the next show. They’ve been meticulously chosen by me and the producers after almost half a day’s meeting.”

Eckart then passed the paper bag to Kieran.

The paper bag contained a stack of papers with many pieces of information written on it; the photos were more than ten as well.

“Antique vase? The vase of misfortune?”

Kieran scanned the photos before looking at the records; the details written were meticulous.

The said vase was crafted by a famous craftsman, Curseman, using gold and platinum during the 700 years of the Neo Union.

Because of the absurd cost and intricate craftsmanship, the moment the vase entered the market, people were all over it, and thus, Curseman started his exhibition tour around the whole union. He didn’t just earn a substantial amount, his vase was boosted to a whole new level of popularity too, being known as the Curseman Vase by the public.

However, times do not last forever. During the second exhibition tour, Curseman fell off the stage and died. At first, no one cared, as they treated it as an accident, but the exhibition team was befallen with strange accidents one after another.

The team of five that Curseman lead in the tour all died in accidents consecutively. The performers group that followed them in the tour also followed not too far behind; more than ten performers died in similar accidents at different times and places.

The vase of misfortune! This soon became the new title for Curseman’s vase, and its notorious name even surpassed its original popularity.

After the accidents happened like falling dominos, the second exhibition tour was forced to a stop, but Curseman’s son didn’t give up.

Six months later, the third Curseman Vase exhibition tour took place, but a stranger incident happened: Curseman’s son hanged himself to death on the night before the tour.

‘I was wrong. It really brings misfortune.’

It was the last message he left on the desk.

The tour that ended before it began spread the ill-name of Curseman Vase throughout the Neo Union. It was in the headlines of many newspapers at that time, and ultimately, Curseman Vase was sent to a local private museum by the Curseman family.

That was until a few days ago, when the said museum held a joint exhibition with Rain City Public Museum. Thus, Curseman Vase was able to see the light of day again.

Kieran quickly went through the papers and gathered a general idea from the information before looking at the photos.

The photos were coloured, quite new to be exact, obviously not some old photos being recoloured.

All 10 plus photos showed the Curseman Vase at various angles, nothing else.

“Do you have any more detailed information from that time? Newspaper cuttings or some sketchings of the scene?” Kieran asked with his head up.

Before cameras became the mainstream media, sketching was the main method to record a scene.

“I’ve already sent men to search for it. If they work fast, you might see them during tea time. Also, we made an appointment with Rain City Museum at 7 p.m., after the museum closes the doors to the public.”

Eckart knew Kieran didn’t like to be interrupted during his reading. Similarly, he also knew he had to tell everything he knew during a conversation if he wished to have a decent one with Kieran.

“Oh… Then shall we go now? I want to have a look at the vase of misfortune,” Kieran said after some thought.

Although the appointment was made and the pictures already seen, Kieran did not mind having a look at the so-called vase of misfortune with his own eyes.

“No problem-o.” Eckart nodded.

Outside Rain City Museum, compared to the scattered visitors during normal days, today was actually crowded.

10-meter long banners hung over a hot-air balloon, digital signages kept rotating, and voices of introduction sounded from time to time. All the signs were telling tourists the attraction of the day: the Vase of Misfortune!

With the museum’s advertising, many curious tourists were attracted to the place.

As for the so-called ‘misfortune’?

Before it really happened, most of the people would not believe it.

They were willing to believe it was a series of coincidences or some kind of man-made story.

Of course, there were some who were afraid, but they weren’t in the crowd.

Other than the mentioned, only those with ulterior motives were at the scene, like Kieran.

“I’ll go get us some tickets.”

Lyn Amie was unusually clear with his current position. Kieran didn’t even have to ask and he was already heading towards the temporary ticket counter.

Rain City Museum was opened to the public five days a week, Tuesday to Saturday, from morning 10 a.m. to evening 6 p.m. It mostly relied on Rain City’s state government’s funding to keep running, but a small part was also donations.

However, this special joint exhibition was different because the vase of misfortune belonged to a private museum, so the owner was calling the shots.

$15 a ticket wasn’t absurdly expensive, but not everyone shared the same thought.

A small, scrawny man dashed inside the museum when the ticketing officer wasn’t paying attention.

“Hold it right there! Stop! Security! Security!” the ticketing officer shouted.

A few security guards answered the call and gave chase, but the small man was weirdly agile. He dodged left and move right, easily escaping the security guards’ grasp.

Then…

The man ran towards Kieran.