Cursed Crown

When Bob had the crown almost on his head, he noticed something—a small, yellowed piece of paper inside the chest.

Bob picked it up. The paper was fragile and nearly crumbled in his hands. Strange symbols were written on it, symbols Bob didn't understand.

Suddenly, a blue system window appeared above the paper, displaying the word [Translate].

Bob clicked it, and the system translated the symbols into readable text:

[Once upon a time, a location of spirit ore was found. It was in unconquered territory, and so a bloody war for that territory was launched, known as the War of the Spirit of Death. Four kingdoms were involved: the Rat Kingdom, the Night Goblin Kingdom, the Poison Giant Kingdom, and the Gnome Kingdom. The war lasted for 1260 long years, and much blood was spilled, soaking into the earth around the spirit ore.

In the end, the Rat Kingdom emerged victorious because they had a necromancer on their side. Once the spirit ore was mined, the Rat King ordered it to be made into a crown and adorned it with mysterious red gems found in unknown ruins.

When the Rat King saw the crown, he was surprised—it was black, though legends described it as orange. Despite his misgivings, he placed it on his head.

As soon as he wore it, his eyes turned bloodshot, and blood began flowing from them. Then he started mumbling in a voice unlike his own—or that of any creature known—repeating, "You are not worthy, you are not worthy, you are not worthy..." He continued muttering for two minutes before he exploded.

I am his only son and the current king of the Rat Kingdom. I inherited everything from him, including this cursed crown. My mission has been to destroy it, but no method has succeeded: fire, water, poison, even a powerful explosive rune that cost half the kingdom's treasury. Nothing worked.

Now I am 461 years old and near death. My son is a fool, and I fear he would place this crown on his head, sealing his doom. So, I entrusted my most loyal knight to bury it deep underground, where no one would ever find it.

If you now possess this crown, there are only two possibilities: either my knight betrayed me—which I highly doubt—or you unearthed it yourself. I beg you, bury it again. This is not something anyone should own.]

Bob stared at the paper, stunned. He couldn't understand how so much text fit onto such a small piece of paper. The story terrified him. Now, he wasn't sure if putting the crown on his head was a good idea.

But then, Bob felt a strange sympathy for the crown, as though it had been his best friend for years. An overwhelming urge to wear it surged through him.

Bob deliberated for five minutes. He reasoned that perhaps he *was* worthy—after all, the paper didn't mention what the crown would do to someone who was worthy. He also trusted the Night Whisperer, who had encouraged him to wear it, especially since they had saved him before.

And so, Bob slowly placed the crown on his head.

Suddenly, Bob felt something digging into his scalp, and he collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony.

Unbeknownst to Bob, sharp, long fangs had emerged from beneath the crown, drilling into his skull at high speed.

-- --

In a dark room, twelve inhuman creatures sat, exuding grim, murderous auras. One chair remained empty.

The being with the strongest presence spoke first. "I never expected another family to form."

Silence hung in the air until one of them pointed at a massive black marble door and said, "But the door doesn't have the family's name written on it. That seems strange."

Another figure, seemingly female based on her voice, added, "I've thought about this. The owner of the new family must be a weak creature, likely fainting when the artifact connected with their soul. That would explain why no name has been created yet."

-- --

Bob suddenly woke up to Nina poking him.

He sat up on the cold cave floor as Nina spoke. "Bob, you've been gone for about 30 minutes, and I was worried about you, so I came to check."

She paused, then added, "By the way, your eyes... they have blue pupils now. And that crown on your head—it's creepy. Being near it makes me feel sick."

Bob, shaking off his confusion, instinctively touched his head, where the crown sat firmly in place.

Then, he heard a chilling, insidious voice in his mind.

'Ah, it looks like you've woken up, my owner. Let's pick a name for our family together.'