MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 634: Curse

“Who are you?”

Anthony’s lips parted at last as he finally spoke, his voice steady despite the oppressive weight pressing down on the atmosphere.

The man before him smiled faintly at the question, his expression unreadable, and then he spoke.

“For being able to even stop one of my skills, you’ve earned the courtesy of an introduction. My name is Azrath Kaelthar Morvanyx Doomrend. You may simply call me the Demon King.”

The instant those names manifested into existence and reached Anthony’s ears, the system chimed coldly in his mind.

[Ding]

[The Host has been cursed]

[The Host has been inflicted with Curse of Madness, Curse of Rage, Curse of Cannibalism, Curse of Eternal Nightmares, Curse of Flesh Rot, Curse of Bloodlust, Curse of Blindness, Curse of Tongue Decay, Curse of Withering Touch, Curse of Endless Hunger, Curse of Agonizing Screams, Curse of Soul Leeching, Curse of Boiling Blood, Curse of Silence, Curse of Shattered Mind, Curse of Blackened Heart, Curse of Unending Thirst…]

Anthony’s gaze swept over the text flooding his vision, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. Over a hundred different curses had been inflicted upon him, all from nothing more than hearing the Demon King’s name.

And yet… he wasn’t bothered. He was immune to every curse in existence.

Standing calmly, Anthony’s mind drifted to the moment when his eyes had first met the Demon King’s gaze. It had been as though the Abyss itself had decided to place a test before him, merely for locking eyes with the man.

Now, simply hearing his name had cursed him with more than a hundred different afflictions.

“Hooo… You resisted again. I’m beginning to grow intrigued,” the Demon King stated, his voice plain yet tinged with a faint note of interest.

Although such curses might have seemed minor, curses that nearly every demon could cast if they so wished, these were not ordinary afflictions. They were curses cast directly by the Demon King himself. That alone elevated them to an entirely different plane.

Resisting a curse from a Demon Monarch and resisting one from the Demon King were two entirely separate concepts, the difference between a lit matchstick and the blazing sun.

“Since I’ve answered your question, why don’t you answer mine?” the Demon King continued.

Anthony, however, had already let his mind wander elsewhere. At this very moment, his Sense Dome was silently scanning everyone within its range, seeking to determine whether anyone else had been afflicted by these curses.

Although his immunity protected him, others would not be so fortunate. But after a meticulous sweep, he found nothing.

‘It seems I’m the only one who heard his name,’ Anthony concluded.

“Null Anthony,” he replied without hesitation, entirely unconcerned about whether the Demon King might trigger yet another passive ability or hidden skill merely by existing.

Then, without missing a beat, Anthony asked, “What is a soul-clone of yours doing here?”

His tone was calm, but his body was prepared to react instantly to any sudden movement. Since the Demon King had yet to make an aggressive move, Anthony saw no reason to act first, but readiness was essential.

The Demon King didn’t seem remotely bothered that Anthony had identified this form as a clone. He simply smiled faintly and replied, “I came to see the one who finally brought down my subordinate.”

The truth was that the Demon King had long ago split his soul into a hundred fragments, each linked to one of his subordinates. Whenever one of them died, the soul-clone tethered to that subordinate would be summoned instantly to the site of their death.

But it had been ages since any of his subordinates had fallen. Usually, when such an event occurred, the memories of the fallen were transferred directly to him.

This time, however, Lilithra’s memories, though transferred, had been incomplete. Everything pertaining to the boy now standing before him had been blocked, erased, or hidden entirely from his perception.

For a being who could gather information with a mere thought, this was unprecedented. Someone who could conceal information from him without even trying? That was… fascinating.

“There is one thing I love and have a weakness for, Anthony… and that is talent,” the Demon King began once more, his voice steady yet oddly compelling.

“I can feel the talent overflowing from you, talent so raw and potent it demands acknowledgment. You, who have yet to even touch the peak of cultivation, and yet you have slain one who had. You, barely two decades into your life, and already you’ve achieved so much.”

His tone was laced with a subtle allure, like the whisper of temptation that could worm its way into the hearts of lesser men.

“Join me, and after a few centuries of training, I shall grant you the first rank within my army. I will free you from the shackles of your limitations, and together we shall ascend, when I finally leave this place.”

Indeed, the Demon King was a man whose rare and dangerous weakness lay in his love for talent. A talented man himself, he treasured and revered it above most things.

Across his existence, one that spanned entire epochs, he had only gathered a hundred individuals he deemed worthy of the title “talent.” That was how impossibly high his standards were.

He did not recruit simply for the sake of numbers. He extended his hand only to those who had crossed a certain threshold, a threshold Anthony had already surpassed.

Unlike Lilithra, the Demon King had no need for mindless puppets forged through forced memory alterations or domination of the will.

He valued warriors who would follow him by choice, their loyalty born of their own convictions and will.

Anthony’s mind churned as he absorbed the Demon King’s words.

‘Is he… trying to leave the galaxy? Unable to do so? He’s talking about ascension…’

Anthony had always wondered why no one had truly ascended. Numerous individuals had reached the pinnacle of cultivation within the galaxy, yet none had attempted, or perhaps even considered, ascension, as though the concept itself was foreign or forbidden.

He had never understood why. And now, here was the Demon King speaking of it openly.

But then another thought struck him: ‘Would the galaxy even allow a demon to ascend? And not just any demon, the Demon King himself?’

Anthony shook his head slightly, pushing such speculations aside. There were too many unknowns, and this was neither the time nor the place to dwell on them.

Instead, he gave his reply to the Demon King’s offer.

“If you were as strong as I was at nineteen years of age… then I would gladly accept.”

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