Chapter 19: The Ring Of Necromancy [3]

But that was the twisted irony of it all. The ring, with its lethal curse, seemed to have a mind of its own, seeking out new hosts to claim. It was not a coincidence that the old man had picked it up; it was a deliberate and malevolent design.

The last person to wear the ring had met a tragic fate, perishing shortly after embarking on a dangerous mission.

The ring was then picked up by the old man and it was by no means an accident.

It held an insidious power, one that appealed to the darkest depths of the old man's twisted desires.

He reveled in death and chaos, finding pleasure in the suffering of others. With each passing victim, the ring bestowed upon him a sinister satisfaction, as their lives were extinguished, and their souls became fuel for his own wicked ambitions. He had become a collector of tragedy, an orchestrator of demise.

He would watch them fall, relishing in their final moments, before claiming their possessions and desecrating their lifeless bodies to enhance his own power.With every stolen artifact and every stolen life, the old man's strength grew, as did his depravity.

It was a symbiotic relationship, a union of darkness and malice, as he willingly embraced the role of a murderer, feeding on the life force of others.

He had already killed more than 20 people in this cycle of misfortune.

That was how he ascended to the rank of a 4-star angel, his dark deeds fueling his twisted power. The shop he now inhabited was not his by rightful ownership, but rather the spoils of a nefarious act. The original owner, now long gone, had met a grim fate at the hands of the old man himself.

However, as the old man laid his eyes upon Zain, a sense of dread washed over him. Despite his powers as a 4-star angel, he found himself unable to see through the enigmatic figure standing before him. It was a rare occurrence, for very few possessed the ability to conceal their true nature from his discerning gaze.

The ring of necromancy, the key to his power, was at stake. Losing it would mean relinquishing the source of his dominance, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

As Zain stepped into the dimly lit shop, his senses immediately went on high alert. The heavy scent of iron and decay hung in the air, unmistakable signs of the old man's malevolence. It was as if the very essence of blood and suffering permeated the atmosphere, a chilling reminder of the owner's wicked deeds.

The old man's heart skipped a beat as he witnessed a sight that defied his expectations. As Zain slipped the cursed ring onto his finger, a wicked smirk spread across his face, replacing any signs of fear or agony that the old man had anticipated.

Confusion and disbelief washed over the old man, his mind struggling to comprehend the unexpected turn of events. He had witnessed countless others succumb to the ring's malevolence, their faces contorted in pain and despair.

Yet, here stood Zain, defying the very nature of the curse that had consumed so many before him. The old man's grip on reality began to waver, his once unshakable confidence faltering in the face of this enigma before him.

Questions raced through his mind, challenging the very foundation of his understanding. How was it possible that Zain appeared unscathed, even emboldened, by the ring's dark power?

"How... How are you able to wear the ring?" he stammered, his eyes fixed on Zain's hand, where the cursed artifact rested upon the index finger of his left hand.

Zain's gaze bore into the old man, his expression tinged with an enigmatic air of superiority. His eyes glimmered with a mysterious intensity, hinting at secrets and powers beyond the old man's comprehension.

"Hmm," Zain mused, his eyes glinting with desire. He extended his finger, pointing towards the gloves and the bracelet that had caught his attention earlier.

"I would like to acquire those gloves and the bracelet as well," Zain declared with a determined tone, his gaze fixed on the coveted items. The old man's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.

"These things..." the old man's voice trailed off, his hesitation growing as he remembered the promise he had made to someone else regarding those very items. His commitment weighed heavily on his conscience, conflicting with the unexpected turn of events.

"Someone has already booked those items and has paid in advance," the old man finally revealed, his voice tinged with a mix of guilt and regret. His admission hung in the air, casting a shadow of disappointment over Zain's face.

"Huh...? Booked them?" Zain's curiosity was piqued as he realized that there was another individual who recognized the value of those items. In an instant, his focus shifted, and he turned his attention back to the old man.

Eager to unravel the mystery, Zain's eyes locked with the old man's, his tone demanding an answer. "Who booked them? And why?"

The old man hesitated, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for a way to evade the question. The weight of Zain's gaze, however, compelled him to speak the truth.

The old man thought that Zain would back out if he were to know who actually did it so he said, "T-the Suzo Family..."

"..."

The old man noticed Zain's sudden stillness, his expression growing serious. He interpreted it as a sign that Zain recognized the immense difference in status and power between himself and the Suzo Family.

With a smug grin, the old man began to brag about the illustrious lineage, launching into a lengthy lecture about their storied history.

He spoke of their legendary exploits, their mastery of ancient magic, and their unrivaled collection of artifacts.

Each word dripped with pride as he recounted tales of their triumphs and the awe-inspiring wealth they possessed. The lecture seemed to stretch on, as if the old man reveled in the opportunity to assert his association with such a prestigious clan.

But Zain's silence wasn't a reflection of intimidation or inferiority. It was a deliberate choice, a mask to conceal the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He absorbed every detail the old man shared, meticulously analyzing the implications and devising his next moves.

After 5 minutes…

Zain stepped out of the store. The black glove adorned his right hand, its intricate red lines hinting at its mysterious power. In his left hand, he held the bracelet, its white surface contrasting with the ominous black crystal embedded within it. And on his left index finger gleamed the ring of necromancy, a symbol of potential and danger.

'Sigh... he was blabbering a lot.'

His patience waned, and with a subtle gesture, he vanished from the bustling street. In an instant, Zain melded seamlessly into the shadows, his form becoming ethereal and elusive.

The weight of the artifacts felt strangely reassuring, resonating with his own ambitions and desires.

As the Suzo family's representative arrived at the door of the old man's store, a foreboding sense of dread loomed in the air.

With a swift motion, he pushed open the door, expecting to find the old man awaiting him. But what he encountered was a gruesome sight that would forever be etched into his memory.

A torrent of crimson liquid burst forth from the threshold, cascading onto the cobblestone street with a sickening splatter. The sight was nightmarish, akin to a twisted masterpiece painted in shades of red.

As he stepped cautiously over the threshold, the Suzo representative could not suppress a shudder that coursed through his entire being.

The silence within the store was deafening, broken only by the soft drip-drip of blood from the ceilings and the occasional creaking of floorboards under his weight.

"What the fuck happened here!?

"..."

The Suzo representative's breath caught in his throat as his gaze fell upon the lifeless body of the old man. The old man, a once formidable 4-Star Angel, now lay sprawled on the floor, a grotesque sight that sent shivers down the representative's spine.

Blood, dark and viscous, coated the old man's frail form, drenching his tattered clothes and staining the surrounding floor in a macabre pool.

The crimson liquid seemed to have seeped into every crevice, saturating the very essence of the store with its dreadful presence.

"Who the fuck did this!" One of the Suzo men's voice reverberated through the desolate store, laced with a mix of anger, shock, and confusion.

"Damn! We need to report this to the boss," one of the Suzo men exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency and a hint of fear.

Without wasting another moment, they swiftly gathered the valuable items scattered throughout the store, hastily stashing them inside the storage ring they had brought along.

Each item, carefully collected and secured, held a significant value and importance within the supernatural community. As they meticulously packed away the artifacts, relics, and enchanted objects, their minds raced with thoughts of the implications and potential repercussions of the old man's demise.

The shrill sound of police sirens pierced the air as the authorities swiftly responded to the scene. Flashing lights illuminated the previously quiet street, casting an eerie glow on the darkened storefront.

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