Marked For Death

After dismissing the new recruits for the dat, Henry promptly made his way towards the 27th floor where the medical division was kept and operated. The incident with the Crooked Man was still fresh in his memory, and though he acted aloof and uncaring, Mari’s untimely passing had opened a fresh wound in his psyche.

“How is he doing?” he entered the white room. Ruruna and Karen had gone ahead of him to confer with the medical division chief Nariko Tachibana on the patient’s status.

“He’s stable for now,” Karen said grimly. “But he’s getting worse.”

Sprawled on the hospital bed with IV drips inserted, and EKG monitor electrodes taped onto his chest, was Haru Kojima. It had been three days since Henry used the talisman to escape from the Kojima household. The boy looked worse than he had the day before. Yesterday, the boy was weakly responsive, but now it seemed that he had slipped into a stupor, barely reacting to most external stimuli.

“That Crooked Man you encountered was no ordinary Cursed Spirit,” Ruruna started. Her deft fingers began to curl up the hospital gown, affording the trio a look at the boy’s chest. “He’s been Marked for Death.”

Haru Kojima’s entire abdomen was riddled with a black lesion, a vile tumor that radiated outwards from his chest in veiny root-like tangles just beneath the surface of his skin. It heaved and throbbed to the rhythm of his faint heartbeat. At its center was an area of ulcerating tissue that threatened to bore a hole deep into his chest.

“Only an Elite variant could do this,” Ruruna concluded.

Henry stared at the tumor that had encased the boy. A hint of anger passed his face before turning into a deep-seated revulsion for the Cursed Spirit that inflicted this.

Marked for Death.

It was a curse, the worst type of curse.

Powerful Cursed Spirits such as Elites and Urban Legends had the ability to inflict their prey with a debilitating death curse. To be Marked for Death was to have death’s shadow looming over you at all times. Usually, the curse left a mark on the body, and it would continue draining the victim’s life force until the victim died, or the Curse Spirit that made the mark came and claimed them.

“How much time do we have?” Henry asked.

Karen narrowed her eyes and examined the Mark.

“We have a week at most,” she declared.

“The only way to lift the curse is to destroy the Elite Crooked Man,” Ruruna explained. “We really have no other option, except for…” She looked squarely at Karen who reciprocated with a stern face.

The only other way to lift a Mark was to have a primalist transfer it to themselves, but that meant taking on the brunt of the curse without resetting the deadline. Karen would essentially be risking her life in lieu of the boy’s.

"Henry, I could-" Karen spoke up.

“No,” Henry uttered forcefully. “I will not risk your life and safety.”

He shook his head in frustration. He hated seeing children suffer, and he especially hated Cursed Spirits who preyed on them.

“One week,” he sighed. “We have one week to destroy the Crooked Man. That’s what we’ll do.”

“For now, let’s see if the rookies have what it takes to join us.”