Vulnarris Read online

  RETURN

  OF THE

  CURSED KING:

  VULNARRIS

  Tristan H. Brown

  Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing ©

  All rights reserved. This book and cover are under

  copyright. No part of this book may be reproduced or

  used in any manner without written permission from the

  author except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  Copyright © 2020 Tristan H. Brown

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,

  and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing ©

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter One

  In the southern continent, Vulnarris, a stiff breeze was drifting about, carrying the scent of death with it. The grounds were ashen, devoid of life. Up above, clouds ominously swirled around each other, crackling with lightning and booming with thunder. It was a dark day, and not even the sun was capable of brightening Vulnarris, the land of the dead. Home to few creatures, one would be hard-pressed to find a human within thousands of kilometers.

  Long ago, the lands of Vulnarris were not so infertile and barren. Thick trees covered the ground, housing a myriad of different forms of life. Grass extended as far as the eye could see, and the smell of pine had always wafted about. Humans, elves, and even fairies lived in harmony, reaching a level of peace thought to have been impossible. Tranquility and honor had been their motto, and they sought to protect their home for eternity.

  However, things didn't always go as they had planned. In times of war, it was inevitable that they picked up their weapons. Creatures from beyond their world had attacked them, laying siege to everything that they swore to defend. Their lands, which had been peaceful for hundreds of years, was burdened by the taste of battle once again. Thousands of people died, murdered by the invaders. Corpses were strewn across the battlefield, dyeing the world in red.

  Thankfully, there was a human kingdom in Vulnarris. Known as Rhun'eran, its walls were tall enough to touch the clouds. Thicker than the width of five trees, they were built to last forever. It was capable of holding all of the races refuge, and allowing them to catch their breath. With new defenses, the races worked together to repel the evil which encroached upon their lands. Thankfully, with enough time, it worked.

  At a devastating cost, Rhun'eran successfully destroyed the last invader, restoring peace to Vulnarris. King Alton and Prince Fidelis were celebrated as war heroes, but their happiness didn't last for very long. Hearing news of their tragic encounter, nations from all over the world sent their regards... and their threats. Forcing the weakened Rhun'eran into a corner, King Alton was unable to do anything for his people. Over time, another war was started.

  This time, it was not fought with the otherworldly invaders, but the people of their own world — their kin. Unable to fight back, the elves quickly retreated to their forests, where the treants offered them protection. The fairies also surrendered, venturing into the oceans, volcanoes, and mountains to hibernate. As for the humans, they were wiped out. Massacred by their fellow nations, they were not given even one iota of mercy. Not King Alton, nor his son, Prince Fidelis. Both of them were forced to drink poison in front of the masses.

  In the end, rivers of blood were made, and the lands of Vulnarris became cursed. Now, only those who seek darkness live within its cryptic confines. Never to see the light again, it was abandoned. Despite this, there were always those that dared to practice the dark arts. Many living creatures desired power, and their thirst for knowledge could not be quenched by mere magic.

  This was especially so for Rachael and her friends. A group of misfits from the North. Using their families' money, they managed to sneak through the border and travel into the cursed lands. She was a relatively tall girl with brown hair and delicate features. Her facial features were weathered to a certain extent, and her cheeks were covered in cute freckles. She had green eyes that were filled with curiosity, and a book was always in her hands.

  Right now, she stood next to her two friends, John and Fred. They were average men at the age of twenty. John was taller than Fred by an entire head, and his body was better suited for combat. A dagger hung at his waist, strapped to his leather belt. Overall, he was a handsome blonde youth, the example of a young knight.

  In contrast, Fred was a shy man. Sheltered by loose robes, not much of his countenance could be observed, and only the shaking of his body was prominent.

  "R-Rachael, we shouldn't do this!" Fred implored, his voice high pitched and shaky. "You've read all of the books... this place is cursed and dangerous!"

  Looking into what appeared to be a cave, Rachael smiled without a care in the world. "Don't be such a wimp, Fred," she replied, running her hands through her thick hair. "It has been over one hundred years since Rhun'eran's downfall, do you really think there are any more lurking dangers? This place is basically a treasure trove!"

  As she spoke to here, Rachael pulled out a rod-like piece of wood with a rag wrapped around one end. It had been dipped into a mixture of sulfur and lime, meaning that it was a torch that not even water would be able to extinguish. Pulling out a stick of flint, she ran it across her steel dagger, creating a few sparks. In a matter of seconds, the torch was set aflame, and it flickered in the dark atmosphere. Now illuminated, Rachael's beautiful smile was on full display.

  John walked to her side, a strange smirk on his face. He slapped Fred on the back and chuckled. "Don't you worry, Fred, you have me and Rachael to protect you," he soothed. "Besides, haven't you mastered the fireball spell? That should be able to kill any beast!"

  Fred nodded, still a little unsure. It was true; he could cast a single fireball. It wasn't very large, nor was it too powerful, but it could be considered quite the feat for someone of his age to accomplish. Usually, it only required a level one spell to defeat goblins and the like. As such, since the creatures that dwelled in caverns were typically of similar nature, it was as John said — they should be fine.

  After psyching himself up, Fred felt a little better. "Okay... we'll do as you say," he stated, raising his head. Revealing a pair of unusual yellow-like eyes, his appearance was even more shocking than the other two. The shifting of his robe just barely showed the pointy tips of his ears and his blemishless skin. Surprisingly enough, he was an elf!

  "Well, that settles it!" Rachael laughed, crouching down and walking toward the grotto. "We'll stay here for the night and hopefully find some ancient runes."

  John followed her, slouching down even further. The cave wasn't very tall, so it was impossible to stretch. "Hopefully, we can find some of their old training methods. I heard that the rangers of Rhun'eran were unparalleled while under Prince Fidelis!"

  Fred was last, and he didn't have to crouch at all. His frame was much smaller than the other two. His meek expression had just about faded away, replaced by awe and interest. He, too, was intrigued by the old ruins of Rhun'eran. No one truly knows what had transpired in the past, so there were many of such treasure seekers, hoping to find answers.

  Inside the narrow cavern, Rachael led the way. The steps were uneven, and the humid temperature caused sweat to trail down their bodies. Brightened by th
e luminous torch, they could just barely perceive strange engravings on the walls. Appearing to have been scratched in by a sword of the olden days, they were almost indecipherable. Rachael rubbed them with her sweaty palms, muttering nonsensical things.

  "T-This is Rhun'eran's catacombs!" She shouted, voice tinged with excitement. "Although misconfigured, it clearly states here that this is the legendary prison where both Alton and Fidelis were buried."

  John and Fred were also surprised, but they were unable to respond before Rachael led them further down the cave. As moved deeper and deeper, the height and width of the cave expanded. Now, Rachael was no longer forced to slump, and even John could stand with a straight back. Furthermore, there were now clear signs of a past civilization. Robust pillars held up the tall roof, and even steps cut out of marble descended deeper.

  Flailing the torch around, Rachael observed every nook and cranny of the catacombs. Her eyes seemed to be filled with stars, and her mouth was salivating in greed. This was what she left home for — old relics. Nothing in the common libraries could sate her desire for knowledge, so she began craving the dialects that no one had ever read before. Disregarding the danger, she left her wealthy family and asked John and Fred to come along. As a free spirit, there was nothing her two friends could do to convince her to stay.

  Soon enough, they reached the bottom of the cave. Rachael had found a single book, and John spotted an old sword. Fred was left empty-handed, but he was happy for his friends.

  Glancing around, Rachael was amazed by the sight. Eight obelisks surrounded a coffin that was resting in the middle. It was gorgeous, to say the least. Taking on an ice-blue outer appearance, it was lined with pearls and gold. Below it, thousands of runes were scribbled onto the ground, lining up with the obelisks.

  This time, John turned to Fred. "These are magical runes, right?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. "Do you recognize any of them?"

  Inquisitive, Fred didn't immediately reply. Instead, he took a step forward so that he could inspect the runes up close. A minute passed, and then five minutes quickly went by as well. After a few more moments, beads of sweat formed on the elf's skin. "I-I don't know... this is like nothing I have ever seen before!"

  He was only an apprentice, so his experience was limited. Therefore, after trying a few more times, Fred came up with nothing. "I don't know what type of augmentation that the runemaster used, but it's surely advance," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "We should turn back; there's no telling what kind of disasters so many advanced runes could cause. If we're unlucky, this whole place could blow."

  Rachael and John both agreed. "You're right, this place is giving me an eerie feeling," Rachael replied, shocking Fred. It had to be understood; this woman would rarely back out of exploring a relic. However, this also meant that her subconscious feeling was disconcerting.

  "Well, we still found a few interesting things," John comforted, turning around.

  Suddenly, a cloaked figure was standing just three meters away from them. John was the first to notice, and his eyes went wide in surprise. "Who the hell are you!" He bellowed, grabbing Fred's and Rachael's attention.

  Raising the sword he had just recently found, John pointed it toward the cloaked person. From afar, it had a hunched back and was about as tall as Fred. It irradiated a dangerous aura, causing John to frown. Out of the three, he was the most familiar with powerful foes.

  Teeth clattering, Fred weaved his hands, creating a small ball of flame. Using the most basic form of an incantation, it developed into a fireball backed by a small amount of mana. He wasn't alone in his preparedness, and Rachael also unsheathed her dagger, pointing it at the hunched stranger.

  "Children... it pains me to do this, but this world's fate is at stake!" the hunched figure said, voice high pitched and girly.

  Raising her frail hands, the cloaked girl removed her hood. She looked like a skeleton with only a few traces of flesh left. Similar to a zombie, she was a dead woman who could still walk.

  "One of the cursed!" Rachael called out, eyes filled with dread. "How is our luck so damned bad? I thought they were extinct!"

  Unfortunately, her words were met with a purple barrier. The runes that they had been standing a few paces away from began to glow. It caused a blinding light, and only the cursed one was able to see through it.

  A purple cube-like barrier had entrapped the three friends. John hacked at it with his sword, but to no avail, it did not budge. Fred used his fireball, but the purple wall instantly extinguished it. "Arcane magic!" He cried, eyes popping out.

  Rachael didn't fare much better. Dropping her dagger to the ground, she gave up any and all hope to escape. Even if she was strong-willed, it was clear that their current predicament was something that they couldn't handle in the slightest. Arcane magic, a cursed one, and a Rhun'eran tomb. All of this could only mean one thing.

  In accordance with Rachael's thoughts, beams of light began to seep out of their bodies. With every column, a bit of their mana was drained, and their physique quickly deteriorated. "O-Our lifeforce is being absorbed!" Fred squealed, grasping for the light like a starved man would food. Every second that passed, their once fit bodies diminished.

  John's muscular physique was reduced to just skin and bones, and he now appeared like a malnourished beggar. His face was full of regret, anger, and discontent. "Am I going to die here? Me, a member of the Lionel family?" He whispered to himself, downcast.

  Rachael and Fred looked the exact same, and just when they were on their last few breaths, the light abruptly stopped. Left only an inch away from death, the three couldn't help but release a collective sigh of relief. Raising their weak bodies, they stared at the cursed undead, who was so excited that her entire body was shaking. "Complete?" She mumbled. "I-I can't believe a wood elf stumbled into our catacombs... absolutely miraculous!"

  She lifted the hems of her dress and ran forward, passing Rachael, John, and Fred. Her eyes were focused on the coffin, which was now creaking with a mysterious sound. The lid was opened by just a few centimeters, causing a white vapor to rise. It was freezing, and even Fred, in the back, shivered.

  The ground shook, and rocks began to fall from the roof. As fast as it had come, the purple light dimmed just as swiftly. Now, only Rachael's torch produced light within the enigmatic tomb. A shed of its light was able to brighten up the coffin that was made out of pearls and gold. The cursed girl fell to her knees, and she kowtowed. Slamming her already fleshless skull against the hard ground, a burst of muffled laughter echoed out.

  "Finally... my mission is complete!" She cried, lifting her bony neck back.

  The three watched in horror as the lid was slid off the coffin. Instead of treasure, it was a man. His skin was deathly pale, like a sheet of white paper. He was around thirty years of age, with an anchor beard covering up most of his face. Blasting his eyelids open, a red light escaped from them, showcasing his race. He was also dead. Similar to the girl, he was once a human. Now, he was nothing more than an undead with a preserved body.

  As he raised his body, the perfectly sculpted abdominal muscles and hairless chest came into full view. Looking left and right, a strange expression was on his face. "My father..." he stammered for words, unable to recollect. "Where is my father?" He asked again, observing the undead woman.

  "Prince Fidelis," she started, quickly, shaking her head and taking back those words. "King Fidelis, your father was slaughtered by the Ten Kingslayers, do you not remember?" She asked with a voice filled with concern and fear.

  "Ten Kingslayers..." Fidelis groaned. His clouded eyes soon cleared up, replaced by rage. "Ah yes, the Ten Kingslayers. The impudent fools who dared to turn their blades on us in our darkest days — the ten mercenaries who rose to fame only through luck."

  Standing up, Fidelis swiftly conducted himself as a prideful King would, carrying with the majesty of a seasoned veteran. Although he was still bubbling with anger, there were more pressing matters at hand. "How
long has it been since our kingdom fell?" He asked, lifting himself from the coffin.

  "That is..." the undead woman paused. "About two hundred years, my liege!"

  Fidelis's movements halted, and he gazed at the woman with incredulous. "Two hundred years? How are you still alive?" He probed, feeling a bit doubtful. A cursed could live for a long time, but only with the proper nourishment from mana and a healthy physique. Much like him, he was able to preserve his body for upward of five hundred years if he so desired. Yet, the woman in front of him was frail. So weak that even a small draft would be able to knock her down.

  "M-My grandmother passed this mission down to my mother, to which she passed down onto me," the dead girl answered, sobbing. "They found out how to procreate, and here I am, two hundred and fifty years later."

  Fidelis nodded. It was almost inconceivable for an undead to be able to procreate, but it was not impossible with the proper procedures. Standing up, he then turned his attention toward the three humans just a few meters away from him. They were cowering and shaking in fear. The smallest one, Fred, had even wet himself.

  "They are?" Fidelis questioned, squinting his eyes.

  "M-My liege, they used their lifeforce to resurrect you," She answered. "That smallest one is a wood elf!"

  "A wood elf?" Fidelis whispered to himself, scrutinizing Fred. "They have fallen to such a degree? Producing a half-blood, that was mixed with a human, of all things? He continued in a disdainful voice, waltzing over to Fred with calm footsteps.

  The wood elves were among the coalition of multiple races that had turned their weapons against Rhun'eran. Filled with life force, they were able to command nature to do their bidding. As formidable foes, Fidelis had once highly regarded them for their prowess. Nevertheless, after their treachery, only contempt was left in his eyes.

  Towering over the weakened Fred, Fidelis crouched down. Using his pale hands, he ran his fingers across the wood elf's jawline. "Don't worry, boy, I won't hurt you," he comforted, the corners of his lips curling. "I have past grievances with your ancestors, but not you in particular. Thank you for resurrecting me."