The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
The End
I gasped the words through the pain, completing the second spell I held in my soul. Alverin froze, mouth parted mid-threat, as five magic circles blazed to life around him, the runes appearing like stars against the setting sun. He glanced at his ring, surprise turning to fear, as he found the enchantment gone.
He threw a desperate hand toward me, clawing at my face, but I'd already fallen back off his sword. Before he could react, thick strands of dark, oily mana shot out of the circles, binding his soul. They carried the vile taint of Curse Magic, drenching him in the same shadows he'd unleashed on me just seconds before.
Alverin screamed as the dark tendrils latched onto his soul, not in pain but in pure, unbridled rage. I flinched as the noise pierced my ears, but poured more mana into the spell, battling against his soul. He was powerful, with even more mana than I had, but no soul had inherent curse resistance.