Labyrinth Expedition #2

“Well? Didn’t I tell you to be prepared?” The voice asked again. “Oh well, I doubt you’d have any more difficulties for a while. Don’t get complacent!”

The voice boomed in his ears, Akiro gagged with pain, his head feeling like it was caving in on him. But he didn’t fall on the ground anymore, instead, he only fell unconscious.

And when Akiro opened his eyes again, his surroundings were the interior of the house they stayed in for a few nights. He arose from his sleeping position, dazed and slightly confused,

“T-The resort home? D-Didn’t– Wasn’t I at the party?” He thought, “How did I get here?”

Just as he asked that question out loud, the sliding door of his room slid open, the door slamming against the frame. “The sleepy head is awake!” Ayama beamed loudly, making the Assassin wince.

“F-Fuck– Why is he so loud?!” Akiro wondered with a sour expression, only to realize that with the distance between them, his hearing was sharper, “N-No, my senses are sharper!”

The hero slowly waddled to his side, playfully poking at him with words, “You honestly faint too much, were you that exhausted?” Ayama asked, “Not surprised though, you did beat half the class to unconsciousness while holding off an Assassin.”

Akiro winced again, pinching the bridge of his nose, the light of day being too strong for his eyes. Ayama sat down beside him on a small stool, holding out his hand and forming fists “Sorry, I wasn’t much help. Masashi was stronger than I thought.”

“N-No, you don’t have to apologize,” Akiro shook his head, “It was not something you could control. You don’t have to blame yourself.”

“Still,” Ayama sighed, “I could’ve done better. I’m still lacking in many areas. You could say I grew complacent because of my high level.”

“I see.” Akiro could only nod “How long have I been out?”

“About a week. We were starting to get worried, but anywho–” Ayama coughed, bringing up a small clipboard, “More importantly, According to the physicians in the palace, you’ve been—uh… How do I put this?”

Akiro turned to his friend, who was mumbling weirdly; but as he asked the question, Sebastian entered the room. “I am?--”

“You have been cursed.”

“W-What?”

The assassin and the hero turned to look at the priest, who stood by the door with a worried look on his face. The aged man nodded slowly, “I’ll repeat myself.” Sebastian coughed, “You have been cursed by the assassin.”

“She did? I don’t remember her cursing me or anything?” Akiro thought, letting the man continue. “I even bested her, only to collapse in the end.”

“Healing potions, medicinal herbs, spells, blessings— they all are being rejected by your body.” The priest explained, “Your body is rejecting them, treating them like poison– so treatment for you must've been painful.”

“It was? I was unconscious the whole time though?” Akiro hummed, nodding in understanding, “But I am okay now, that’s water underneath the bridge. Say, why would the assassin curse me?”

The priest grimaced at how quickly the boy accepted his predicament, but answered anyway, “We theorized that the curse was for the King, but since you managed to get in the way, He must’ve cursed you instead by accident— that is the conclusion we came to.”

“Huh– it was a she though? An elf no less.” Akiro internally chuckled, making the priest feel bad at his poker face. “I think I should just let them think whatever. That’s better than ruining the situation by causing more trouble.”

“The King and Queen are forever grateful for that, Akiro, never forget it.” Sebastian tried to comfort him, “If there’s anything they can help with– just say the word!”

The assassin sensed the man’s desperation and worry, so he smiled, “It’s nothing, professor. I am proud to be of service to the King and Queen.” Akiro respectfully corrected, “But if it’s okay, could I have the room? I’m still a little overwhelmed with it. I need some time to think.”

“O-Oh yes! yes of course,” Sebastian nodded profusely, “I don’t think he wants to talk about the pain he endured during our first initial attempts. He was screaming quite…disturbing.”

“I will relay your words to the King and Queen.” Sebastian turned to leave, almost hurriedly. Ayama, who was listening in on the whole time, followed him without a word. “Ayama will attend to you if you need anything.”

“Yeah!” The hero agreed, “In fact, I’ll go grab you some food, you’re starving!”

Akiro smiled at them, but it faded as soon as the sliding doors shut. Turned to his hands, “Status.” He said.

[ Name: Akiro Hiroto / Age 18 / Job: Assassin / Sub Job: Gunman ] [ Title: Grim Reaper’s Emissary ] [ Lvl 87 ] [ ATK: 487 + 68 / STR: 167 / DEX: 392 + 42 / SPD: 317 + 25 / DEF: 47 + 102 / INT: 189 / MANA: 885 ]

[ Active Skill: ‘Gunman's Manual / EX’ ] [ Active Skill: ‘Appraisal / A’ ] [ Active Skill: ‘Stealth / D’ ] [ Passive Skill: ‘Weapon Master / D’ ] [ Active Skill: ‘Sprint / F’ ] [ Passive Skill: ‘Radar / E’ ] [ Active Skill: ‘Disguise / S’ ] [ Attack Skill: ‘Square Cut / F’ ] [ Passive Skill: ‘Language comprehension / F’ ] [ Passive Skill; ‘Swordsmanship / C’ ] [ Weapon Art: Moonlight-Execution Style / E (Incomplete Inheritance) ] [ Ultimate Skill: Reaper’s Culling / S ]

Noticing that he was still wearing his armor, which he hid underneath the formal clothing last week, Akiro groaned, “I’m probably going to need to shower and wash them.” He thought, “After all, after what happened on that rooftop, I wouldn’t want to take the chance.”

Akiro squinted at the window in front of him, “Hm, a title, huh? Never seen that before,” He noted, “Let’s see what it does. [ Appraisal ]”

In response to his skill, a smaller window pointing toward the title appeared. Instead of the usual opaque blue, it was black with blue letters, the edges lined with silver designs and skulls. Some of the text written on the box were censored or spasming out of comprehension.

[The Grim Reaper’s Emissary, is a chosen being who has filled the requirements set by #$%$&* and has been acknowledged by him.]

“That’s it?” Akiro hummed, “I was expecting something more, but that’s probably for the best. If I am an ‘Emissary,’ that means whoever that guy was, he has a mission for me.”

The assassin sat up straight, putting his feet on the floor, and slouched, a hand stroking his chin, “According to the guy who visited me in my subconscious, our goals align– and If my goal is to kill the Demon King, and am a valid candidate for probable success, then it’s simple enough…”

“The Grim Reaper himself wants the Demon King dead.” Akiro concluded, “Now, let’s see, there must be perks.”

[The Emissary has been allowed power and a creed.]

[As Emissary, your creed is your loyalty to the mission. This is all he demands, and failure results in punishment, while success leads to bountiful rewards.]

[You are now a harbinger of death, the messenger delivering the end.] [Thus, you have aligned yourself with death, and the mother of life has turned her back on you.]

[ You will no longer taste the bite of ailment, disease, or poison, for any that bring you harm, will bring blessing instead; but anything that carries blessing will deliver you anguish and suffering, tenfold.]

[As Emissary, the night and its moon shall be your ally, empowering you with strength, protecting you with its shadows! But in exchange, the sun and the righteous glory shall despise you, weakening your very being, sapping your might.]

[ But fret not, for even in weakness, the darkness will always abide by your side, and the moon’s waters will never forsake you. ]

“Cryptically edgy, not a good start,” Akiro rolled his eyes at the roundabout information.

“In short, as he said, this new-found power of mine comes with its cost. ‘He’ demands my loyalty to the mission of killing the Demon Lord, in exchange for not killing me.”

“By aligning myself with him, the ‘Mother of Life’ has turned her back on me. That means that anything related to healing magic, or healing in general, will harm me; and anything inherently harmful to me, like curses, disease, and poison, will be beneficial. I’m not sure how that works yet but there it is, I guess.”

Akiro got up from the bed and walked around his room, before stopping in the middle of it. He took his fists and started to throw punches, the result already clear as day. “And yeah, I am weaker and slower right now.”

Ayama opened the door with a bowl in hand and he noticed him sluggishly trying to wield his weapons. “Did I come at a bad time?” He asked, to which Akiro just shook his head.

“No, you did not.” The assassin replied, smiling. “It couldn’t be any more perfect.”

Ayama nodded, setting the filled bowl of rice porridge down nearby. “According to Sebastian-sensei, you need to eat light for now, your body might have trouble digesting meat.”

Akiro nodded silently, having taken off the formal outerwear, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Ayama.”

The hero only shook his hand, waving it away, “Not a problem, I’ll be out for the day though. There’s more in the pot by the kitchen if you need more.” he said, turning away, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Akiro watched him leave, closing the door after him. He turned to the bowl on the table and to his bag, by the corner of the bed. The assassin reached for the contents within, procuring himself one of the last jars of poison he had and set it beside the bowl of porridge.

“This looks stupid enough,” Akiro hummed, watching the centipede parts swirl around in the container and his bowl. Taking a spoonful of porridge, Akiro tasted it, the heat and herbs doing wonders for his empty belly.

He smiled, praising Ayama’s cooking. “This is good!” But his smile soon faded when he turned to the poison jar.

Slowly he unsealed the container, the noxious gasses he expected not to assault his nose, and instead, it was oddly sweet, almost spicy to his senses. “W-What the–”

Akiro lightly tipped the jar, intentionally dropping a blob onto his hand. If it was corrosive acid like the label had said, it should’ve burnt his hand, but it didn’t. Only when he tipped his hand did the drop of poison land on the wooden table, burning a small crater as it dissipated.

“Interesting. It does not affect me, but it's still poison.” Akiro hummed, taking a spoonful of porridge and dripping just a drop onto it. The assassin brought the spoon to his mouth, amazed by the flavor of the poison-turned-flavoring. “Is it weird that it tastes good?” He asked himself, only for a window to interrupt his thoughts.

[ The corrosive properties of the poison are slowly rebuilding your damaged constitution. ]

"It brought blessing, indeed.” Akiro smiled, taking that as a sign, and he doused his porridge with half the jar. “I should tell that merchant to switch half of the healing potions for poison. This inn should have a messenger service right?”