The Curse Heir

lting his head. "The relic chose you. A shame. I was hoping it would die with your father." The words struck like a hammer. He knew. He knew exactly what had happened to my father... and why.

ard, crashing through a wooden fence with a crack that split the night. He landed hard, skidding across the dirt. I stared at my hand. Smoke rose from the glowing sigil, my skin unburned but tingling with a hunger that wasn't mine. The assassin groaned, pushing himself up. His mask was cracked, revealing one eye cold, furious, and almost... impressed. "So... it's true," he muttered. "The Cursed Spirit has awakened." He spat blood, then smiled cruelly. "Good. That means killing you will make me a legend." He vanished. Not a step. Not a leap. He simply disappeared. My heart pounded. My ears strained. Where? The whisper screamed in my head: "Behind you!" I dropped low. The dagger sliced the air where my neck had been. I spun, swinging the rifle like a club. The butt smashed into his ribs, the crack of bone echoing. He stumbled, still grinning, eyes blazing with fanaticism. "You don't even know what you carry," he hissed. "That spirit will eat you alive." "Then you won't live to see it happen," I snapped, raising the rifle. But the sigil erupted again, this time uncontrollable. My body convulsed as shadows burst from my arm, wrapping around the rifle, twisting it into something alive. It became a weapon I had never seen before dark, jagged, breathing. The assassin froze. His confidence faltered. "That... that's impossible," he whispered. "The relic wasn't supposed to" I didn't let him finish. I lunged. The weapon in my hands howled as it cut the air. The assassin raised his daggers, but the strike shattered them like glass. His scream tore the night. Blood sprayed as the weapon carved through him, sending him sprawling. I stood over him, chest heaving,