“What just happened?” Vera hissed, her voice trembling as she tried to maintain her composure. She was clearly shaken up, her eyes darting around as if expecting more horrors to emerge from the shadows.

  “I don’t know… we should go check what happened to the three Awakened,” 433 responded, his voice steady despite the chaos that had just unfolded.

  Vera whipped her head toward him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Have you gone insane? Did you not see what I saw?” she snapped, her tone a mix of anger and fear.

  “Yeah… I did,” 433 admitted, meeting her gaze with a determined look. “But we’ll get valuable information about the curse if we see what happens after the sky skulls.”

  Vera’s fists clenched, and she looked as though she wanted to argue, but the words seemed to die in her throat. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “You… you can’t be serious,” she muttered, almost to herself. Her mind raced, still haunted by the grotesque image of the skulls expanding and exploding in the sky. “We should report this to James and Levi. They need to know.”

  “Agreed,” 433 said, his voice unwavering. “But this curse is connected to something—or someone. If we see what happens next, we might understand what we’re dealing with. And maybe how to stop it.”

  Vera hesitated, the battle between fear and reason waging a war within her. Finally, she took another breath, the air stinging in her lungs, and nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine… but if anything goes wrong, we’re out of there.”

  “Understood,” 433 assured her.

  With a shared look, the two began making their way back toward the ruined building. The remnants of shattered glass crunched beneath their feet, and the distant echoes of their footsteps in the deserted alley added to the heavy, foreboding silence. The air was thick with tension as if the very world held its breath in anticipation of what they might find.

  As they approached the building, the smell of charred concrete and lingering death filled their nostrils, making each step feel heavier than the last. A chill ran down their spines, but neither turned away. They reached the entrance, and Vera placed a hand on the broken doorframe, steadying herself.

  “Ready?” 433 asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  Vera nodded, swallowing hard. “Let’s get this over with.”

  They stepped inside, and in front of them lay three blackened skeletons, their bodies grotesquely charred and twisted. The remains still had patches of decayed flesh clinging to the bones, giving the skeletons a sickly appearance. The bones were unnervingly dark, almost like they had been scorched from the inside out. The scene reeked of death, an acrid stench of burnt and rotting flesh.

  “That’s disgusting,” Vera muttered, her face contorting with disgust as she pinched her nose, trying to block the putrid smell that assaulted her senses.

  “True,” 433 agreed, his voice low and tense, “but it doesn’t seem like the smell does anything to us.” He looked around warily, taking in the eerie silence that hung over the place like a heavy fog. “I don’t want to touch them… In case the curse somehow transfers to us through their corpses.”

  Vera nodded, her unease clearly visible. She glanced at the skeletons one last time, a shiver running down her spine. “Now that we’ve seen what happens after the curse activates, we should get out of here.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Fine, let’s go,” 433 replied, relief washing over his features as he turned away from the grotesque remains.

  Together, they stepped out of the building, leaving behind the remnants of the horrific transformation. The weight of what they had witnessed pressed down on their shoulders, but they knew they had to report this—no matter how unsettling the information might be.

  ***

  Vera, Flint, and 433 stood stiffly inside the Black Box, facing James, who was dressed in his usual dark suit. James's posture was commanding, and his gaze was sharp. He studied them, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in their tense expressions.

  James raised an eyebrow, his voice carrying a faint edge of impatience. "So, what is it?"

  Vera stepped forward, drawing a steadying breath before she spoke. Her voice was unusually cautious. “We found signs of something sinister…” She hesitated briefly, her eyes darting to Flint and 433 for a moment of reassurance. “A curse was put on people in the Bronx. Thousands of people died because of it.”

  “Curse?” James repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “What type of curse?”

  “The English Awakened referred to it as ‘The Curse of Hades,’” Vera continued. Her voice remained steady, but 433 could hear the subtle undertone of unease in her words.

  James’s eyes widened momentarily, his composed fa?ade breaking for just a second before he quickly schooled his expression back into its usual calm demeanor. The fleeting look of shock didn’t go unnoticed by 433, whose instincts confirmed what he had feared—this discovery was as dangerous and significant as they had initially suspected.

  “I see,” James finally said, his voice carefully neutral. He appeared deep in thought for a moment, weighing the gravity of what he had just heard. He met their eyes once more, his tone more somber this time. “If that is all, please go wait in your rooms while I discuss this with the Boss.”

  Vera and Flint exchanged uncertain glances before giving a slight nod. They turned to leave, but 433 lingered for just a moment longer, his eyes never leaving James. There was something more beneath that composed exterior—a hint of dread, maybe even fear.

  As the trio made their way out of the room, the silence felt heavier than usual. The tension that had simmered during their report seemed to have only grown more intense, hanging over them like an impending storm. 433 couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay behind James’s guarded expression—and what horrors awaited them in the days to come.

  ***

  The Boss sat in his dimly lit office, often shrouded in shadows despite the glowing monitors lining the walls. He was known for his controlled demeanor and for never letting emotions dictate his actions. But today was different.

  “Why are the gods interfering with mortals?!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the room like a thunderclap. In a fit of rage, he slammed his fists against the thick mahogany table, shattering it instantly. Cracks spread out like spiderwebs from where his fists had landed, and a faint glowing residue clung to his knuckles before gradually fading away as he regained his composure. He closed his eyes, taking a slow, deliberate breath before settling back into his chair, though the fury in his eyes remained.

  Across the room, James stood rigid, a slight tension in his posture betraying his unease. “I—I don’t know… Sir,” James stammered, trying to mask his apprehension. “I didn’t think England would fall so far as to make contracts with the god of death.”

  “After all this time!” the Boss snapped, not allowing James’ words to settle. “Countless years spent perfecting our soldiers, honing them into the ultimate beings—and those bastards in England just call upon gods?!” His voice seethed with contempt. A thick vein bulged dangerously on his forehead, giving the impression that it might burst at any moment.

  James took a cautious step forward, choosing his words with care. “I understand your frustration, Sir, but couldn’t we just… make a contract with one of the other gods as well? If they’re willing to go this far, perhaps we should be willing to go just as far.”

  The Boss’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing James. There was a lingering silence, broken only by the faint hum of machinery in the background. The suggestion lingered in the air like a volatile substance, ready to ignite at the slightest spark. For a moment, James thought he might have overstepped, but the Boss merely leaned back in his chair, his gaze unfocused as he contemplated the possibility.

  “You think it’s that simple, don’t you?” the Boss said, his tone a mix of bitterness and dark amusement. He let out a derisive chuckle, shaking his head. “Making contracts with gods is not a transaction one enters into lightly. We are trying to control power, not bend to it.”

  James swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his naivety settle over him. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he stayed silent, waiting for the Boss to continue.

  The Boss leaned forward, resting his elbows on what remained of the table. His voice was lower now, more controlled but simmering with underlying fury. “If England is willing to gamble with divine power, then we’ll find a way to counter it. But we won’t bow to those ancient parasites.”

  “Understood, Sir,” James replied, trying to sound resolute despite the cold dread that was slowly building within him.

  “Good,” the Boss said, the finality in his voice like a judge delivering a sentence. “We need to be careful from here on. I want all our resources focused on finding the origins of this curse. No more surprises and no more delays.”

  James nodded sharply, knowing what was expected of him. As he turned to leave, the Boss’s voice stopped him.

  “And James,” the Boss added, his voice now a low growl, “if the gods want to interfere in mortal affairs, we’ll show them just how dangerous mortals can be.”