what if I'm an undead! then so what?-Chapter 49: Cursed

"All things rot. I simply quicken the process. It’s my nature. I am the Blight Sovereign."

The moment Kuroshi uttered those ominous words, the very earth beneath him responded in horror. The soil cracked and aged visibly, like decades of decay forced upon it in mere seconds. The lush greenery withered almost instantly. Leaves browned and crumbled into dust, insects twitched and collapsed, their fragile bodies disintegrating as if time itself had chosen to accelerate only for them. Fungi bloomed unnaturally fast before collapsing into rotten slush. The corrupting influence expanded outward, blanketing the area in a radius that reached nearly two hundred meters—and it showed no signs of stopping.

Mr. Emmanuel reacted immediately. His boots launched off the dying ground as he leaped back with a grimace, narrowly escaping the creeping decay. His form soared into the air, defying gravity as his feet seemed to step upon invisible platforms. He sprinted midair as if the sky itself bent to his will, maintaining his distance while approaching Kuroshi from above.

With narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw, Emmanuel extended a hand toward his adversary. A shimmering dome of energy burst into being, encapsulating Kuroshi within its luminous sphere. Kuroshi’s eyes darted around in confusion, clearly unsure of what purpose the barrier served.

Emmanuel didn’t hesitate. His outstretched fingers curled into a tight fist. In response, the dome began to contract—slowly at first, but soon with a merciless speed. The glowing shell pressed inward with increasing force, compacting its prisoner. Kuroshi grunted as the field crushed against his limbs and bones. The sound of snapping echoed through the air, gruesome and unrelenting. The sphere continued its assault until it shrank to the size of a basketball, and then even further until it matched the size of a football.

"Let that be the end of you," Emmanuel muttered, staring at the now motionless, compacted orb. "I just hope he doesn’t come back from that."

"You and me both," a voice answered coldly from behind him.

Emmanuel’s eyes widened, his instincts flaring too late. The small orb cracked and dissolved into ash. Before he could even begin to turn, Kuroshi’s hand burst through his chest from behind. Emmanuel’s mouth opened in shock, but no words came. A chilling sensation flooded through him, his veins burning with unnatural cold.

The corruption was immediate. His skin turned gray and flaked like aged parchment. His once-vibrant eyes lost all color, leaving only milky voids. Hair fell from his scalp in clumps, and even his clothes frayed and aged, sagging around his decaying frame.

"Turning you into a puppet will serve me better than ending your life," Kuroshi said, retracting his hand with casual disinterest. He folded his arms behind his back as Emmanuel fell to his knees. The light in the man’s eyes dimmed further, and in moments, he was no longer himself.

A sickly black mist encased Emmanuel’s body. When it dissipated, a twisted replica of him stood there, unmoving. His soul had been replaced with Kuroshi’s corruption. He was a puppet, a shell.

"Now, where is it?" Kuroshi asked flatly.

His voice carried unnatural weight. Emmanuel’s body trembled as the command took hold. The former protector fought back against the curse, teeth clenched.

"El... Elias..." the puppet stammered, his voice distorted as though battling a war within.

Kuroshi’s brow twitched in surprise. "You can still resist me? Fascinating. Tell me everything. What about Elias?"

Again, he pressed his will forward, this time imbued with more pressure. Emmanuel’s body buckled, his knees slamming into the ground. But instead of answering, the corrupted warrior looked up with defiance and latched onto Kuroshi’s leg.

Kuroshi froze.

"Impossible," he muttered. No one had ever acted of their own will after becoming his puppet. No one.

"I may die, but I won’t let you leave unscathed," Emmanuel growled. "Soul Punisher!"

His body ignited with a radiant white light, intensifying until his silhouette vanished in the blinding glow. A wave of pure energy erupted outward, engulfing the terrain in divine fire. The explosion lit the sky, visible from kilometers away. Trees were uprooted. Stone was reduced to dust. The blast radius extended nearly two full kilometers.

When the light finally faded, Kuroshi was on the ground. Smoke curled from his robes. His body, charred and covered in bruises, remained mostly intact—but his expression was unreadable. He flexed his legs experimentally.

"Tch. So that was your final trick? All that energy for nothing more than a few broken bones?" he scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment. "You knew I could regenerate. You died for nothing."

But his words faltered as realization hit. Something was wrong. His legs remained limp.

"What... What is this?" Kuroshi’s voice dipped with panic. "My regeneration isn’t activating... No, it’s worse than that. It’s not even detecting damage. As far as my body knows, there’s nothing wrong with my legs."

Dark light sparked around his hands. With one swift, fluid motion, he sliced through his thighs, severing both legs at once. Blood sprayed, but the black aura worked quickly. New limbs began forming within seconds, flesh reknitting and bones snapping into place.

The relief that washed over his face was brief.

He stood—or tried to. His regenerated legs refused to respond.

"What did you do, Emmanuel?" Kuroshi whispered. "Even after all that... You still got the last word."

His gaze darkened. For a moment, the ever-confident Blight Sovereign looked truly humbled. Then, his face hardened.

"I let my guard down. Years away from the battlefield made me soft." His body began to tremble. Cracks spread across his skin like glass under pressure.

"But even this won’t stop me."

With a scream of rage, Kuroshi’s body exploded into ash. The force of his self-destruction sent a shockwave in all directions. His remains disintegrated under the sunlight, leaving nothing behind but a single artifact: the oni mask he always wore.

Halfway across the world, somewhere in the United States, three figures dressed entirely in black stood in a dimly lit room. Their faces were hidden by hoods, but their postures showed unease. They spoke quietly until one of them suddenly dropped to his knees, convulsing violently.

"Hey! What’s wrong?!" one of his companions shouted, rushing to his side.

Before they could get close, they all froze. A suffocating pressure filled the room. An ancient, malevolent presence.

"The... The Blight Sovereign," one of them whispered in horror. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Their comrade sat up. But something was wrong. His eyes were wild, his expression twisted in agony. He let out a scream so powerful it cracked the walls.

"CURSE YOU, EMMANUEL!"

As if in response, another of the men began to seize. His body contorted violently before exploding in a splash of black smoke. The third man suffered the same fate mere seconds later.

In less than five minutes, only one figure remained. He stood alone amid the carnage, breathing heavily. Rage simmered in his eyes.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small communication device. Static buzzed as he opened a channel.

"Things didn’t go as planned," he muttered, slumping against the nearest wall. His voice was low, his body visibly strained.

Back in Shibuya, within the quiet halls of the Mikazuki mansion, Masaru lay in bed. A pale hue colored his face, but his breathing was calm. Akane and Eve sat beside him, their expressions torn between worry and relief.

"So let me get this straight—you don’t remember what happened after Vaelion transformed into a dragon?" Akane asked, eyebrows raised.

Masaru nodded slowly. "I remember bits and pieces. But after that transformation... it’s all blank. Like I blinked and skipped time."

Akane folded her arms. "Could be side effects from using that energy. A mild form of amnesia, maybe."

Masaru sat up, trying to center himself with a deep breath.

"Well, I planned on staying until you woke up," Akane said, standing. "But I’ve had enough of Shibuya. Too many familiar faces I don’t want to meet. You’re strong enough to stand now, and your match is today. You and the others should regroup."

She paused, then produced a ring from thin air. Its design was simple, yet its aura pulsed with magic.

Eve gasped. "Is that... an engagement—"

"It’s not!" Akane interrupted sharply, waving off the idea. "This ring nullifies the Crimson Moon’s influence. Tonight’s full moon may affect different species in unpredictable ways. Don’t take this off. Don’t stare at the moon intently as well"

Masaru accepted it with a quiet nod.

"You were incredible, by the way," Eve chimed in cheerfully. "All like, ’I can’t afford to lose now!’"

Masaru laughed, her imitation catching him off guard.

His eyes drifted around. "Speaking of which... where’s Hinata? She hasn’t been around since the match."

"She left to escort another witch back to her village," Eve answered with a shrug. "Didn’t say much."

Masaru leaned back into the pillow.

"Looks like you’ll be on your own soon. School’s starting again. Akane and I will be busy."

"Actually..." Eve beamed. "Akane made arrangements. I’ll be attending your school too. Isn’t that great?"

Masaru smiled. "Yeah. It really is."

Far away, on a mountain capped in snow, a wooden cabin sat nestled beneath a canopy of frosted trees. A boy in silver and blue stood at the doorstep, his golden hair shining like sunlit metal. His eyes gleamed with divine light.

"Where the hell is Uncle?" he muttered, clearly impatient.

He knocked—too hard. The door snapped from its hinges, falling inward with a loud crash.

"Elias?" a voice called from inside. Low, deep, familiar.

The boy stiffened. That voice... it was unmistakable.