Chaos' Heir - #670 - 670 Curses



The scene startled the audience. The clicking cry and burst of mana seemed to belong to a wild beast rather than a human. The sole idea that Khan could voice such screams altered how those ordinary soldiers perceived him.

Anselm was an exception. His studies had been thorough and accurate. That defensive ability didn’t startle him, but he remained surprised by the amount of released mana and its violence. Still, that didn’t freeze him.

“You must bind it now, sir,” Anselm revealed.

Khan glanced at Anselm before focusing on the knife. He moved it to his left hand, holding it tightly while sliding the blade on his right palm. That blunt edge didn’t cut much, but blood spilled anyway, tainting it.

Anselm put more strength into his defensive stance. Taming a cursed weapon was no easy feat, and it was unclear what effect it would have on Khan. Many things could go wrong, and protecting the couple was his priority.

A foreign presence formed inside Khan’s mind as his blood slid over the blade. He had experienced something similar on Nitis when he tamed Snow, but the event’s nature was completely different now.

A greedy, hungry, and bloodthirsty feeling expanded inside Khan’s mind. Its intensity altered some of Khan’s thoughts, trying to make them echo those violent features. Khan experienced the knife’s will in its entirety, and part of him began to desire to imitate it.

Yet, an even more intense force soon showed its presence. The chaos element’s wild, violent, and uncompromising will grew from the back of Khan’s mind and attacked the foreign entity. A clicking cry also resounded in Khan’s ears, and a humming noise followed.

A mental battle unfolded but quickly ended. As violent and bloodthirsty the knife’s will was, nothing could beat the chaos element’s bottomless desire to destroy. Their natures were on different leagues, and the weapon could only shrink back and behave.

An instinctive knowledge flowed into Khan, filling him up. He didn’t hear words or commands, but the sensation of awareness was there. Somehow, he could gauge the knife’s abilities and understand how to use it.

Khan stared at the knife before lifting his eyes. The ceiling was tall enough to leave empty room for tests, so he sent some mana into the weapon before performing an upward slash.

A lot happened in that fraction of a second. The knife absorbed Khan’s mana before more energy enveloped its edges. Khan had performed a weak version of the Divine Reaper after charging the weapon, which resulted in a completely different attack.

The knife cut the air, sending an ethereal slash upward. A purple-red attack flew toward the ceiling, severing the symphony that stood in its way.

Khan had contained himself, calculating the mana necessary to avoid hitting the ceiling. However, the knife suddenly hummed, and the flying slash reddened, flaring with new energy.

That wasn’t the end of it. To Khan’s surprise, the slash changed direction, curving to the right until it had made a complete turn. The attack was now aiming at the floor, adjusting its trajectory to target Rick and the others.

The bloodthirst inside Khan’s brain flared as the slash grew redder and faster. It was only a second away from hitting the audience, and Anselm had already begun moving his mana to intercept it. Yet, something different happened.

Before Anselm could move, a purple-red mass materialized on the slash’s trajectory and clashed with it. A small explosion unfolded, but nothing reached the floor or the audience. Rick and the others only experienced a light breeze.

The attacks’ remaining mana quickly dispersed, returning the warehouse to the previous peace. Still, Khan and the audience couldn’t forget what had happened, and different thoughts invaded their minds.

Rick and Lucille struggled to follow the event. Even thinking about it failed to provide answers. They simply couldn’t understand much at their level.

Jason was shocked. He had seen many soldiers and battlefields, so he knew the weapon’s value. Moreover, Khan could control and restrain it, highlighting how much he had grown in those years.

Anselm was similar to Jason, but his higher understanding of the involved techniques created a bigger shock. He didn’t care for the knife. His focus was on Khan and the fact that he had preceded him with an untraceable attack. That ability was looked too flexible and powerful to be real.

A chill inevitably ran down Anselm’s spine. He surpassed Khan in terms of levels, but the outcome of a frontal clash felt unclear.

Of course, merely considering that Khan could overpower a noble guard who was one level above him felt absurd. Yet, that was exactly what was going through Anselm’s mind. The impossible was real and was standing right before his eyes.

As for Khan, he felt the audience’s reactions through the symphony, but his attention was on the knife. He actually had to hold back a smirk when inspecting the weapon. That tool was deadly, which was perfect for him.

‘I can charge it to release stronger attacks,’ Khan thought. ‘I wonder how much mana it can withstand.’

Khan was thinking about the knife’s upper limit due to his innate advantage. He had mana to waste, so attacks above his level were theoretically possible. The only issue was the weapon’s endurance.

‘Though you have to behave,’ Khan ordered, flicking the blade with his fingers. ‘No more attacking allies.’

The knife could understand Khan’s order through the mental connection, and he also heard its reply. The weapon’s unwillingness to hold back its thirst for blood was as clear as day, and Khan couldn’t accept it.

‘You be a good weapon,’ Khan thought, continuing flicking the blade, ‘And I’ll give you as much mana and blood as you want.’

The promise didn’t convince the knife but temporarily appeased its bloodthirst. That feeling was still there, as intense as before but more hidden.

‘You’ll create problems for me, won’t you?’ Khan sighed. ‘Well, you can’t be worse than the other one.’

Khan was obviously thinking about the cloud. With the knife, he now had two unstable powers that could go against his orders. That lack of control wasn’t ideal for a warrior, but he could make it work. Khan had already done that multiple times.

With the knife secured, Khan felt compelled to address the audience. He lifted his gaze to meet the expressions the symphony had already depicted, and his focus inevitably fell on Anselm. Among his disbelief, the man was also experiencing a tinge of battle intent.

“Jack is stronger than you,” Khan commented, “Isn’t he?”

Anselm held back any reaction, but Khan could see the suppressed gulp. It made sense for Princess Edna to have better guards. Everyone probably understood that. Yet, speaking about it so openly almost felt like a challenge.

“My job isn’t to be stronger than anyone, sir,” Anselm replied, relying on his training to remain polite. “My job is to protect Prince Rick against any threat.”

“Pity I’m not a threat,” Khan teased.

“On the contrary, sir,” Anselm stated. “You might be the biggest threat out there.”

“Anselm!” Rick shouted. “Don’t disrespect Captain Khan.”

“He wasn’t,” Khan revealed. “He was praising me.”

Among the group, only Jason could see the silent understanding that had formed between Khan and Anselm. The latter was truly praising him, but no one could utter those precise words. They went against the very order of the world.

The nobles were the apex of the Global Army. They were its true leaders and the very top of humankind. Consequently, their descendants, guards, assets, and more had to reflect their status.

However, Khan represented an anomaly. He was so strong that the noble guards had to acknowledge him, and his background made him difficult to recruit.

Khan’s current affiliation with an extremely wealthy family turned his strength into a bigger problem. He alone wasn’t enough to create a power imbalance, but his fame could become an issue in the future, and it was hard to predict what would happen after his evolution.

Of course, all of that was far into the future, but preserving the nobles’ predominance was a daily effort. Still, Anselm didn’t dare think deeper into it. As things currently stood, Khan was a friend of the Rassec family.

“Sir,” Anselm stepped in once the silence became too heavy, “At the cost of insulting you, I must request you put down the knife. You don’t have clearance to carry weapons here.”

“I figured,” Khan exclaimed, putting the knife back on its shelf. He couldn’t bring his own weapon either so that treatment didn’t surprise him.

“We will wrap it up and deliver once the marriage is over,” Anselm continued. “For now, enjoy the wedding, sir.”

“I will,” Khan reassured, and Anselm lowered his head in respect before retreating. Soon, his figure grew unclear until it completely disappeared.

Khan could still feel the guard but decided to ignore it. He was happy for the knife, but it was late, and the following days were bound to be busy. As much as he wanted to express his gratitude for the gift, duties came first.

“Thank you for this, Rick,” Khan exclaimed. “I already know it will help me greatly.”

“Don’t mention it, Boss,” Rick shook his head. “All of this is possible thanks to you.”

Khan wore a genuine smile as the couple exchanged cute glances, but Jason distracted him by stepping forward to whisper in his ear.

“Cursed weapons aren’t toys,” Jason explained. “They often consume the users when abused.”

“If that’s the price to pay,” Khan commented.

“Khan,” Jason called, grabbing Khan’s arm. “You aren’t serious.”

“I’m always serious about curses,” Khan reassured. “They are my life.”