Cursed Heir System: Revenge Against the Gods-Chapter 44. Partner

Alan sat on the edge of a crumbling wall while staring at the abandoned mansion in front of him where it looked like it hadn’t been lived in for years, like it’s a place where ghosts would fuck up.

"This isn’t a prison," he muttered under his fox mask. "So why are they bringing the unblessed kids here?"

"I have only ten minutes."

He took a deep breath and dropped himself into the long unattended backyard. He landed hard on one knee. The mask almost dropped from his face.

"Jez—shit," he winced, shaking his head and tucking back the mask. He looked around to check that nobody was watching. He had less than zero desire to attract the mercenaries’ notice.

Standing up, he muttered to himself, "I really need to train more to get stamina..."

Surprisingly, there weren’t many guards around. Probably to avoid drawing attention from the locals. Alan used the opportunity to sneak closer and slipped through a small metal side door.

Inside, it was just as dark.

"They can’t even afford lamps?" Alan mumbled, shaking his head. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

The mansion’s interior was abandoned and empty—just old wooden floors, torn curtains, and the smell of dust. He moved slowly and carefully.

Then he heard voices.

"Did you tell them the shipment arrived?" one man said with a rough voice.

Alan quickly ducked behind a broken table, to hide. Two men walked into the main hall through a side door and Alan peeked at them. Behind them was a staircase going down into the basement.

"Yeah, I told them," the other man replied. "Now we just wait for the boss."

The two of them left through the front door without noticing Alan.

Alan stood up looking at the main door they left. "The boss? Who’s running this show?"

He shuffled toward the door that led to the basement. He cracked open the door with an agonizing slow turn of the handle — enough to get himself through, and started down the stairs — being careful not to make a sound.

Alan got to the end of a narrow corridor and stepped through a rusty iron door. Old oil lamps were laid out in the distance ahead, giving off a faint orange tint and flickering shadows across cool stone walls.

He stepped tentatively forward, then stopped.

His eyes widened seeing the scenery inside. "What the hell is this...?"

It wasn’t just a basement, it was an underground prison. It is huge, damp, and carved directly beneath the city. The stone corridor stretched far ahead, lined with iron-barred cells on both sides. This wasn’t a temporary holding space. It was built to keep dangerous people locked away permanently.

Alan moved forward slowly with his footsteps echoing in the silent corridor, looking at the empty cells with no kids in it, just the dried blood on the floor.

He noticed something else here, the staircases. Multiple exits and entrances, just like the one he’d used. This place was connected, maybe even under half the city.

Alan clenched his jaw and kept walking. Something was wrong, too quiet and too clean... except for the blood.

When he rounded a corner, however, his eyes stopped on another cell where something made him freeze in place and walk back toward the bars to get a closer look inside.

No.

No, no, no.

Twelve at the most, a boy, has been suspended to death from the ceiling with his wrists imprisoned inside old chains full of rust. His hair was stuck to his forehead with blood. He wasn’t one of the children Alan saw outside. Looks like he’s been here a while.

Alan’s breath caught. Not from the gore, but because he recognized this type of killing. This method, the signs, the exact pattern of how they kill.

His legs refused to move, remembering what he saw five years ago exactly.

"...Unblessed cult?" he whispered louder than he meant to.

The word echoed throughout the underground tunnel.

"Who’s there?!" someone shouted, noticing someone infiltrated the prison.

Alan cursed silently, pressing himself against the wall as fast and heavy footsteps were coming his way.

Then the footsteps stopped abruptly. Alan peeked around the corner of the turn to check and saw no one was coming.

He let out a sigh of relief. "Damn... he noticed me," he muttered slowly.

"Who didn’t notice you?" A voice came from the other side of him which made Alan freeze.

He turned around slowly and saw a massive man standing there, easily over six feet, built like a wall of meat and muscle. Definitely a mercenary, his eyes locked onto Alan as he raised a heavy axe over his shoulder.

"Guess I gotta crush this little rat."

Alan muttered, "Looks like I’m dying again." He gave himself a mocking smile at the mercenary.

"Could be worse. At least that means I get to rewind time."

The axe came down to cut Alan into two pieces, but before the blade could touch him, a hand gloved grabbed Alan’s shoulder and shoved him back.

He barely had time to glance at the girl that pushed him back before he hit the ground.

She’s the same masked woman who had attacked Anna at the tavern.

ZOE intercepted the axe with a single clean parry of her black sword. The brute staggered, caught off guard, and Zoe leapt with inhuman grace, landing on his shoulders. Her fingers glowed faintly with black, and pressed on his forehead, the mercenary’s eyes rolled back and his massive body collapsed.

She turned back to Alan before he even knew what was going on. She crouched and hugged him close, her arms wound around his back, and her soft, well-formed bosom pressed against him in such a manner that he could barely draw in breath.

"Don’t move," she whispered.

And then some sort of shadow exploded beneath their feet and they were instantly swallowed up.

In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the underground prison and reappeared on a random rooftop near the festival. Lantern lights flickered in the streets below. Alan could hear music and laughter from below.

Alan fell back, crumpling down into the gutters of slate roof tiles, his fox-mask half-falling from his face while Zoe stood over him like an angel.

The wind was cooler up here. Shaking his head, he looked around in confusion for a brief moment and then jumped up almost on que as his gaze came upon the still standing masked girl.

Her breathing was calm, unfazed, like all of this was just routine for her.

Alan narrowed his eyes. "I remember you..." he said slowly, voice edged with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "You’re the same girl who tried to kill me... with your thighs."

He blinked once, then added dryly, "Not that I’m complaining, but—who the hell are you?"

The girl didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped closer.

"Oh, that hurts, Alan," she said softly.

She removed her black mask revealing a pale, delicate face, almost doll-like in the moonlight. Her straight black hair tied back tightly and her icy blue eyes locked onto his.

She tilted her head slightly. "I thought we were partners, right?" she whispered.