Earlier, in the point of view of the servants that Lazry called–
For men like them, nights like this were a curse.
None of them were warriors, not truly. They were workers—untrained, underpaid, and unwanted. The Lycannis crest on their old uniforms was more burden than pride, a reminder of who they served and how low they stood beneath the family's grand shadow.
The first to break the silence in the helicopter was Jaro, a man in his mid-thirties with a sunken face and calloused hands rough from years of scrubbing marble floors. "So… this is it, huh?" he muttered, eyes fixed on the floor. "The family finally remembered we exist."
"Don't say that," whispered Ren, a wiry man who looked more like a street vendor than a servant. "Maybe they just needed extra hands. Could be anything."
"Anything?" Jaro gave a short, humorless laugh. "They called us in the middle of the night, armed us with rusted blades, and told us to follow the young master to an abandoned tunnel. Sounds like cannon fodder to me."
Across from them, Tomas—the oldest of the group, a white-haired stable hand who'd served the Lycannis for forty years—closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. But his hands were trembling. "If it's the young master's command, we can't refuse," he murmured. "You think I want this? I've got a grandkid. But when the family calls, you show up. Otherwise, you disappear."
They all fell silent. That word—disappear—hung in the air like smoke.
The youngest among them, a boy barely out of his teens named Pip, shifted nervously. His voice cracked when he spoke. "Do you think… we'll come back?"
No one answered him.
Each man carried the same fear buried deep inside: that this was it. That the family had found a perfect excuse to get rid of the useless ones. Low-level curse beast conjurers like them were everywhere—half-talented workers with tiny beasts, barely good enough for housework or pest control.
Ren's curse beast was a mole spirit. It helped him clean sewage drains.
Jaro's was a slime, useful for polishing floors.
Pip's was a squirrel-sized wisp that fetched tools when called.
Even Tomas had only an old dog spirit, slow and nearly fading from lack of energy.
They weren't fighters. They weren't protectors. They were background decorations in the grand Lycannis machine.
And yet, here they were, inside a helicopter heading toward a place that even the military avoided.
The rotors cut through the wind, drowning out their thoughts until finally, the aircraft descended near the abandoned tunnel. The landing was rough, dust and debris swirling through the air.
Winston was first to step out, adjusting his glasses, his voice crisp but trembling slightly. "Everyone, stay alert! Protect the young master at all costs!"
The workers exchanged looks of disbelief.
"Protect?" Ren muttered under his breath. "With what, exactly? Our mops?"
Jaro gritted his teeth. "We'll protect him the best we can," he said quietly, though the bitterness in his tone betrayed him.
They followed Lazry down toward the tunnel's mouth. It loomed before them, black and endless, the air thick with dampness and decay. The moment they entered, the smell hit them—wet stone and old blood.
Pip gagged, clutching his stomach. "Gods, what is that smell?"
"Death," Tomas said softly. "Lots of it."
Lazry walked ahead, calm but cold. He didn't speak to them much, just gave one order before stepping deeper into the shadows. "Surround me. Don't let anything get close."
The workers hesitated but obeyed, forming a loose circle around him. Their palms were sweaty, their breath shallow. They could barely see five meters ahead.
Then, it began.
From the darkness, faint red lights appeared—eyes, dozens of them, blinking one after another. Low growls echoed through the tunnel, rising into a cacophony of snarls and wet hisses.
Ren nearly dropped his weapon. "Oh gods… there's so many."
"Hold steady!" Winston shouted, brandishing his silver rod like a sword.
Shapes slithered out of the dark—small, twisted beasts made of shadow and smoke. They looked feral, their forms melting in and out of shape, but as soon as one lunged forward, Jaro instinctively swung his blade.
The creature exploded into black mist.
There was silence for a heartbeat.
"…What?" Jaro blinked. "That's it?"
Another came charging. Ren swung a rusty pipe, smacking it square in the face. The beast shattered, vanishing like dust in the wind.
Pip screamed and threw a rock at a crawling one. It died.
They all froze, staring at each other.
"The hell?" Ren said slowly. "These things are weak."
Tomas stepped forward, squinting. "That's… a level one curse. Maybe even weaker. I've seen bigger ones in the kitchen cellar."
Another hiss echoed, and they turned, expecting danger—but instead, a group of squirrel-sized curses scampered toward them, only to be stomped underfoot by Winston with an angry yell.
"What is going on?" Jaro muttered. "We're supposed to be bait! Not… cleaning duty!"
Soon the tunnel was filled with sounds of chaos—workers laughing, shouting, swinging their weapons wildly.
"Ha! Look at this one, it's like a chicken made of smoke!" Ren cackled as he kicked another beast into the wall.
Pip summoned his tiny wisp, which squeaked and started biting at a shadow rabbit. "I got one! I got one!" he shouted proudly.
Winston, panting, smashed another curse beast with a broken lantern. "Keep it up, men! Don't let a single one escape! For the Lycannis Family!"
"For the Lycannis Family!" they echoed, laughter rising through the dark.
Meanwhile, Lazry stood a few meters behind them, eyes wide in disbelief.
He had expected something terrifying—monsters with ten heads, curses that could swallow souls whole. His system mission made it sound like death was inevitable. But instead, his so-called weak servants were clearing out the tunnel like janitors in a cleaning competition.
Even Butler Winston, the man who once cried when his teacup cracked, was roaring like a berserker.
Lazry couldn't decide if this was comedy or insanity. "What the hell is going on…" he whispered.
Suddenly, a familiar chime echoed in his head.
[Ding!
[Congratulations!
[Devouring Beast Mission: Level One — Stay near a Devourer's Nest for 5 seconds.
[Reward: A low-tier Devouring Curse Beast.
[Status: Completed.]
Lazry blinked. "The hell? " He couldn't believe it. "Already?"
He looked around. The men were still yelling, their weapons flashing. The beasts kept coming but they were nothing but pests.
Another chime followed.
[Ding!
[Devouring Beast Mission: Level Two — Stay near the nest for 10 seconds.
[Reward: A mid-tier Devouring Curse Beast.
[Status: Completed.]
Then—
[Level Three: Stay near the nest for 15 seconds.
[Reward: A high-tier Devouring Curse Beast.
[Status: Completed.]
The workers didn't even notice the invisible notifications flashing before Lazry's eyes. They were too busy enjoying the slaughter.
Ren was laughing so hard tears streamed down his face. "I can't believe this! I'm killing curses with a damn pipe!"
Tomas was humming an old song as he stabbed a trembling beast with his rusty spear. "Feels good to move again. Maybe I'm not useless after all."
Even Pip was jumping around, waving his arms. "I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!"
Winston bellowed from the center, covered in dust and sweat. "Don't slow down! The young master is watching! Show him your loyalty!"
Lazry's eye twitched. Loyalty? You're playing in a nest of curses!
Seconds passed like heartbeats. The air grew still again.
[Ding!
[Level Four: Stay near the nest for 20 seconds.
[Reward: An advanced Devouring Curse Beast.
[Status: Completed.]
The mission chain was almost done. Lazry's heart raced. He didn't understand why everything felt so easy, and that terrified him more than danger would have.
The men were drifting farther from him, their laughter echoing deeper into the tunnels. His instincts screamed that something was wrong.
"Enough!" he shouted. "All of you, come back now!"
They stopped mid-swing, confused.
"But young master, we haven't cleared the far side yet!" Winston called back.
"I said now!" Lazry's tone was sharp, almost trembling. "Get back here immediately!"
Reluctantly, the workers gathered, dragging their weapons and muttering under their breath. The air had grown strangely quiet again.
Lazry stood still, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Maybe this was the real test, the real danger. He braced himself, holding his breath.
But after a few more seconds, nothing came.
No rumble. No roar. No curse. Only the faint dripping of water from the ceiling.
Then—
[Ding!
[Level Five: Stay near the nest for 25 seconds.
[Reward: A Devouring Legendary Curse Beast.]
Lazry exhaled slowly, his heart thudding. It was over. Too easy. Far too easy.
And that, somehow, scared him more than anything else.