Tales of the Endless Empire

Chapter 344: The Curse of the Blooded Templar

The sun had already sunk; only a few frail rays skimmed the ocean’s surface, throwing rainbow sheens across the waves. Mesmerizing, if one looked only at the water. The scene lost its charm when Thalion turned to the clearing and saw fifty people gathered, their hands flailing as Kaldrek and Maike argued with them.Behind the pair, the elite warriors of the camp clustered on the branches and platforms, ready. Whatever these newcomers wanted, it was not simple. Thalion had assumed they came to expand, not to parley. A sneak attack still seemed the prudent course, there were enough defenders in the base that a covert strike should be feasible, but the situation smelled of complication. He would help his friends regardless.

Silently he dove from the canopy, folding his wings at the last instant and slipping into human form mere moments before landing. He weaved through the throng, slipping between startled bodies until he stood at Maike and Kaldrek’s side, facing the newcomers.

The foremost man bore a third eye on his forehead, an affectation Thalion found ridiculous rather than fearsome. The extra orb did nothing for vision, it only made his brow look crowded. The newcomer’s uniform bristled with decoration: rank, wealth, or vanity. The man’s posture reeked of arrogance.

“Good that you’re here. This is turning into quite a mess,” Maike said, her glare sharp and unamused as it cut to the three-eyed leader. He chuckled in a tone that tried, and failed, to sound magnanimous. “No problem at all. There can’t be trouble between Zergur and a insect, hm hm hm,” he intoned, smug and overbearing. Thalion felt irritation rise like bile.

“Say what you want,” Thalion replied flatly. He had no patience for pompous fools. The commander who called himself Zigiri continued in a saccharine, condescending fashion. “We want what is rightfully ours. You happen to be upon Zergur lands. Surrender your rings and wear our colors. It is an honor to serve the Zigiri and our great empire. Be kind, and perhaps you may even clean my feet later.” The words dripped with contempt and Thalion’s jaw tightened.

Thalion’s scorn only grew as the man prattled on. The Zergurs tone and manner put him in mind of nobles and elves. Entitled, cruel and amused by other peoples’ misery. He considered the men gathered. Numerous, well-armed, but not entrenched. If the Zergur intended total domination, they were making a grave tactical error by showing their hand. Better to strike preemptively than wait until their enemies were prepared. Still, Thalion chose a different gambit.

“I suppose you are the commander?” he asked, ignoring the insulting offer.

“ Of course not! I'am merely a messenger!” He only laughed harder, his followers echoing the sound.

Thalion’s dislike curdled into resolve. “We will not be enslaved. But I am feeling charitable today. I offer your incursion leader a fair duel. Winner takes all.” He locked eyes with the three-eyed messenger, steady and cold. The man’s third eye tightened, a faint, sour aura leaked from it.

“That was… strange,” Thalion thought, his gaze locked unflinchingly on the three-eyed messenger. Doubt tugged at him. Had he made the wrong choice? Perhaps he should have ended this charade here and now, cutting the arrogant knight down with the help of the elite warriors. In Thalion’s mind, nothing shattered morale faster than watching the strongest in the group fall. If the champion of the enemy lay broken, why would the rest throw their lives away in a hopeless fight?

“Well, human, that can be arranged,” Zigiri sneered, voice sharp and filled with contempt. “But understand this. Your challenge will be your death.” His tone dripped with superiority, his third eye narrowing with menace.

“Still, your people are fortunate,” he continued, voice ringing across the clearing with theatrical grandeur. “A duel to the death is the traditional way. In the name of my Master, I accept. Tomorrow, after sunrise, we will await you before our gates. May your death be filled with great agony and despair.” With that, he turned, cloak flaring behind him as he strode away, his retinue falling in line like shadows dissolving into the twilight.

“Oh, I that guy,” Maike muttered once the Zergur were out of earshot. Her words earned a chorus of grumbles and bitter agreement from those nearby.

“Why is it that everyone’s first instinct is to enslave us? Jesus,” Kaldrek snapped, in frustration. Then he raised his voice for all to hear: “Alright, prepare yourselves. Tomorrow we show those three-eyed bastards that we will never wear chains. Not now, not ever!”

The crowd gave muted nods and drifted away, weariness etched into their faces. Most were not afraid, but tired. The tutorial had already wrung them dry, each day steeped in blood and dread, and the promise of yet another battle to the death weighed heavily.

Thalion understood their exhaustion, though he did not share it. Yes, the Zergur were infuriating, and yes, the coming clash would cost lives. But victory would bring him closer to what he sought most. His divine class. That thought steadied him.

Leaving the murmuring camp behind, Thalion settled on the shore. The salty wind washed over him, cool and bracing, while the ocean whispered its endless song. He shifted into the crippled form of the eclipsari and sank into meditation, weaving the darkness still coursing through him from the fallen incursion pillar into his body. The moon rose slowly, pale light scattering across the waves like silver dust. He let it bathe him, the night air filling his lungs, the rhythm of power thrumming in his veins.

His thoughts wandered as he breathed deeply. Did other worlds still cradle moons? And if so, had they, too, been fused into this strange new sky? The orb above him looked familiar, white and scarred with dark pits, much like the old one. Always, it reminded him of a bernadina fruit, bruised yet beautiful. Time slipped quickly in meditation, vanishing like smoke. He surfaced from it reluctantly, the dawn spilling warm light across his skin. Today would be beautiful, he thought. A fine day for battle, and a fine day to grow stronger.

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After the duel, he vowed, he would master the subtleties of his human form. His other forms already felt secure. Then again, perhaps he should focus on his Tidecaller Serpent. The massive crystal within its gut was nearly digested, and when it was, the serpent’s strength would surge to terrifying new heights. The Eagly form, though swift and fierce, had nearly reached its tempering limits. The serpent, on the other hand, still brimmed with untapped potential, though tempering such a colossal body demanded patience and relentless effort.

Just as the camp began to gather again in the morning light, something stirred. A long-awaited system notification.

Greetings, new arrivals, and welcome to the new universe

You are still shielded from integrated space, and only those who fulfill the criteria may enter the newly integrated universe

In seven days, the first System Event will begin

Good luck

Thalion exhaled slowly, the words burning themselves into his mind. Seven days. Much sooner than anyone had expected. The race had officially begun. If the incursions failed to secure entry, others would surge ahead. Gaining strength, skills, and power that their group might never recover from. The realization hit him like a blade between the ribs.

The next days would be chaos. The hunt for strength, for survival, for a ticket into the System Event… had already begun.

It wasn’t much of a timer, really. So what should he do next? Two paths lay before him. He could focus on the Tidecaller Serpent, force himself to swallow that massive crystal, and attempt to digest it before the tutorial ended. Or he could refine his human form, sharpen it until it could stand against the true powerhouses, while finally discovering what his blood curse truly did. The description of it had been ominous, terrifying, even.

The Curse of the Blooded Templar (Celestial)

The curse is not a simple blight. It is a covenant of blood turned inside out, a vow of protection warped into a chain of domination, a crusader’s purity transmuted into ravenous hunger. Those who inherit or awaken the curse find their veins burning with an endless crimson fire, their bodies strengthened, yet their will tethered to an ever-thirsting rage. They bleed not only for themselves, but for the curse itself, which demands sacrifice to grow stronger. When the Curse fully awakens, the victim’s blood ceases to be their own. It becomes a weapon, a river of iron will and searing zeal, that lashes out at allies and enemies alike. Shields melt into shackles, even the blessed shall join the crusade and the bearer becomes both knight and abomination. The true terror of the Curse lies not in its might, but in its loyalty. It binds itself not to the soul of the knight, but to the vow within them. The Curse of the Blooded Templar seeks new blood to corrupt, another oath-bound whose faith is strong enough to be twisted into chains. To carry the curse is to carry the memory of an unending crusade, a reminder that even the holiest vows, once drenched in blood, can become damnation incarnate.

All of it sounded dangerous in Thalion’s mind, which was why he had refrained from calling upon it until now. The name of the Blooded Templar was unsettling. Yet strangely, the curse seemed to leave him untouched. He felt no surge of strength, no weight dragging on his will. His blood and the Sanguis Impera were clearly infected, but neither showed signs of corruption. Be it positive or negative.

For now, it seemed that anything infected would be sent on its own crusade, a relentless march to harvest blood and spread the curse. Could he really doom the entire world if it spread unchecked? They lived in some sort of medieval age. Would healers have the power to cleanse it, or would it fester without resistance? Thalion had no answers. Worse, he feared it might even infect his other forms, a disaster he dared not risk.

He also had no clue how to strengthen the curse. No path forward, no roadmap. Perhaps, the coming System Event would be the perfect testing ground. If there was ever a time to experiment, it was then. The other option, of course, was to stop hesitating, embrace his reckless nature, and simply devour the crystal as the Tidecaller Serpent. That sounded… well, like something he do.

“Thalion, we need you. Something unexpected happened.”

The voice pulled him from his musings. A slim-built figure came sprinting up the slope. Likely a scout, judging by his frame and the way he moved.

“Yeah, sure. What’s going on?” Thalion asked, rising to his feet in one smooth motion. His meditation was complete, and the choice between his serpent and his human form could wait until this incursion was dealt with. Still, in his heart, he already leaned heavily toward the serpent.

“There’s an elf. An one, who wants to join us,” the scout reported breathlessly. “But the broad elf doesn’t trust him. Says his story sounds too good to be true.” The man pointed off toward the camp.

Thalion gave a curt nod and started in that direction. So the incursion leader would have to wait. Another elf, here of all places. That meant others of their kind must have spawned nearby. And for one to arrive this early, on the third day, it meant he had either been running in a near-perfect straight line or had help along the way.

Athilrion was right. The timing was suspicious. Too suspicious. But that only meant one thing.

Things were about to get very interesting.