Webnovel Title: The Curse of the Wielder of Evil Powers
Author: Purely Creating
Chapter 12: Demon Sect Attack & The Former Prince
In the Kingdom of Andromeda, the full moon glowed dimly that night, while even the stars seemed to vanish behind a thick, brooding sky.
The humid fog fell between the chorus of summer insects. But the falling dry leaves were set ablaze, scorched by the blazing slash of a flaming sword.
The wind howled, and the heat in the air surged wildly. Fire erupted in every direction, consuming the palace as it was swallowed by flames.
The mighty King of Andromeda was panting, his teeth clenched tightly. He stomped one foot down with force and leaped onto the palace rooftop, chasing the one who had triggered his fury.
Orion's crimson eyes burned with unrelenting anger as he flung aside his royal cloak, letting it fall to the ground without a second thought.
"Father, that's enough! If you want the throne, you can have it! But please—stop hurting my family!"
An arrogant smile spread across Deimos' face. He calmly turned around, raised two fingers, and lowered his son's fiery sword that pointed at him. "You're wrong, my son. I never wanted the throne," he said coolly.
Orion's eyes widened in disbelief. "Then why are you trying to destroy this kingdom?!"
The middle-aged man's grin widened. "I only came for one of my grandchildren... to gather power," he replied, stepping closer to his son. "Relax. I'm only borrowing his body as a vessel for my relic," he whispered with a sly glint in his eye.
Hearing that, Orion's rage boiled over. The man born of pure fire gripped his sword tighter, his voice trembling as he fought to hold back his emotions. "Leave. While I still have respect for you as my father."
A loud, cruel laugh erupted. Deimos shook his head, mocking him. "You'll never be a great king if you remain this weak-hearted," he snapped.
He exhaled a long breath, eyes briefly lifting toward the blackened sky. Then, flashing a twisted smile at Orion, he suddenly roared, "If you won't give him to me, I'll take him myself!"
Without warning, Deimos lunged from the rooftop and flew straight into the burning palace. Orion immediately gave chase. Their bodies left trails of shadow and flame, soaring through the air like wind-born spirits locked in battle.
And amid his wicked laughter, Deimos' eyes caught sight of three young boys dashing down the palace corridor, fleeing with their mother.
His wicked grin stretched even wider. He lifted a hand, dark smoke curling around his fingers. Then, with a swift and merciless motion, he hurled a black magic orb at the children.
In their desperate escape, the youngest child sensed the danger coming too late. Without thinking, he leaped behind his older brothers, using his small body as a fragile human shield.
"Watch out, brothers!"
Thud!
Boom!
A blinding white light flashed, and for a brief moment, the dark corridor lit up like a lightning storm. As the light faded, a cloud of black mist seeped into the child's veins, just as he was violently thrown across the cold marble floor.
"Little brother!"
"Sirius!"
Queen Arabella rushed to gather her son into her arms. The two older brothers dropped beside him, overwhelmed with worry.
Tears streamed down their cheeks, creating a small pool of grief. They could see it—Sirius, only five years old, wasn't strong enough to endure such a powerful dark spell. His golden irises fluttered helplessly, pain flooding his hollow gaze.
Laughter echoed once again, cruel and triumphant. "Perfect. A pure child's body makes the best vessel for my relic..."
Deimos' eyes gleamed as a large red mark slowly emerged on Sirius' chest and stomach, forming the shape of a dragon-serpent tattoo. "Yes, good... grow up full of hatred..."
"Become someone despised by those around you. Let your soul absorb all that negative energy. That way, the power I'll gain will be even greater. Live well... because when you turn seventeen, I'll come for you..."
His maniacal laughter rang through the palace—until it was suddenly cut short by a furious roar behind him.
"Get out of here!!!"
The moment Deimos turned around, a spray of dark blood burst from his mouth. Orion's flaming sword had pierced straight through his chest.
Eyes blank, Deimos' body crumbled into ashes, consumed by fire and carried off by the night wind. And—
~~~
Skrrrt!!
Beep! Beep! Beep!
On the cold, rough surface of asphalt, the tires of a car screeched to a sudden halt, the sound echoing across a busy pedestrian crossing filled with the chaos of city life.
A few startled eyes turned toward the commotion—two humans, caught in the depths of their own emotions and egos.
The middle-aged man behind the wheel slammed his hand on the horn in rage, eyes blazing with impatience as he stared down the young man who'd caused the disruption—crossing the street without looking, completely ignoring the traffic signal.
If he had stepped on the brake pedal just a second too late, that reckless young man might have already been flung far away—his body sprawled across the unforgiving asphalt, bones shattered under the weight of midnight misfortune.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!"
"You want me to rip out my eyeballs and stick them to my feet?!"
The middle-aged man had prepared a whole string of curses, but it seemed he had no choice but to swallow them all.
Because the young man who had just made his blood boil clearly belonged to that rare species of human—impossible to deal with, the kind who would keep arguing even after realizing they were wrong.
So instead of wasting his breath in a pointless shouting match with someone like that, the man decided to just drive off while muttering curses under his breath. "You won't live long if you keep acting like this, kid!" he snapped, putting his heart into the curse.
Xavier's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know why, but those words sent chills down his spine. He stared after the man's departing car, hand over his chest, trying to calm the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.
A long sigh escaped into the cold night air. The young man—an antique thief by trade—tried to shake off the lingering shock of nearly being snatched away by death in an instant.
"Thank God... That was close..." he panted. "Looks like Heaven's not ready for me yet," he joked with a shaky grin of relief.
But just seconds later, his expression shifted as quickly as the whisper of the wind.
His brown eyes suddenly narrowed at the phone screen in his hand, filled with contempt. "This cursed prince story... It feels like the curse rubbed off on me too," Xavier muttered with bitter resentment. "I almost died because of this trash!"
He ranted nonstop, hurling insults at a page displaying the web novel he'd been reading.
But reality doesn't lie, and the truth was plain to see in his eyes—he couldn't look away from the lines of text scrolling down his screen. "Pure element?! What even is a pure element?! The author even uses weird terms! Why not just say affinity?! That would make way more sense!"
"How the hell did this cliché garbage get millions of readers?! Huh?! I could even predict the ending after just 12 chapters!"
His mouth kept pouring out complaints while his feet instinctively carried him toward his destination, ignoring the passersby on the sidewalk who gave him strange looks—as if they were watching a lunatic ranting to himself for no apparent reason.
Irritated, he jabbed his fingers at the screen, navigating to the review section of the novel and reading each comment one by one.
| 1570 reviews |
@yourbf: Honestly, I'm still mad about the ending. But looking back... maybe that was the best ending the MC could have.
@don'treadmycomment: I get why he chose to end it all. If you were cursed like that, would you be able to handle it?
@iamyourking |replying to @don'treadmycomment|: Exactly. If I were him, I would've given up too... No way I could've fought the demon king while the element of darkness was taking over my body...
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"Cursed prince? Loses to a demon? Gets possessed by darkness? Depressed and ends up offing himself? What the hell is the point of this story?!" Xavier snapped, his irritation boiling over.
For some reason, this story's plot pissed him off more than it should have.
The piece of literature that had riled him up so much was an online novel titled The Curse of the Wielder of Evil Powers—the imaginative work of a writer using the pen name Purely Creating, which had recently exploded in popularity on a certain platform, drawing in millions of readers.
According to the author, they were inspired to write the story after seeing a Renaissance painting titled 'Forget Me Not'.
The painting was well-known among art collectors and enthusiasts, partly due to the mysterious legend behind it—the very tale that drove the artist to capture it on canvas in the first place.
Xavier had only heard about the novel because of his curiosity. Coincidentally, a client obsessed with antiques had offered him a huge payout if he could steal Forget Me Not from the National Museum.
"Hah... even this client of mine got scammed into wasting money over a trashy fictional story full of plot holes!" Xavier grumbled again. "At this point, it's not just the painting that's called Forget Me Not—I feel like half my brain is suffering from amnesia just from reading this mess!"
"Did no one ever think that maybe Vinson Bonaventura made up the whole story just to make his painting a legend? And maybe this trash author is his descendant, trying to keep the lie alive just to gain fame too?" He shook his head in disbelief, clicking his tongue.
His eyes slowly drifted to the backpack he was carrying, a frown creasing his forehead in confusion. "But how... how can that cursed prince in the painting look so much like me?"
He recalled the moment his client had sent him a photo of the painting. He'd frozen the instant he saw it—the face of the figure in the artwork was almost identical to his. Even his crew had been stunned.
Earlier today, when he had entered the museum to carry out the job, he had found himself momentarily frozen once again. His mind drifted as he stood face-to-face with the painting.
Drrtt... Drrtt…