Tyrant's Obsession With The Heiress-Chapter 84: The Story Behind The Devil’s Curse [1]

Highly Recommended Listening: [Breathe—By Thomas Bergersen & Two Steps From Hell]

Long before he had ever set foot in Moonveil or even before he could begin his conquests in Engaria, Orpheus Van Merikh had tasted the bitterness of death.

And one might think, if the man had died before, how did he walk in the flesh now? How was he still alive and strong?

Simple. He was resurrected. But not by a god, and certainly not by the devil, but something far more dark that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

It was during a Northern siege when Orpheus was just fifteen years old, a lad who was already tall with a body hardened from war and physical labour.

It was the first time he had ever led a charge against foreign invaders, men who crossed the seven seas to make it to Engaria, all because they believed there was rare and valuable ore beneath the Frosthowl Peaks.

Such men rode and fought under the Romalian banners, and if they had to slaughter their way to the supposedly valuable ore that would bring them riches beyond their wildest dreams, then so be it.

But it wasn’t just mere men who invaded the Frosthowl Peaks; they arrived with magic-bearers who specialised in the dark arts.

Their magic was so foul that their spells held the stench of death; it was unlike anything Orpheus had ever seen or experienced before.

He was far too overconfident, convinced that the enemy was at a disadvantage since they were not familiar with the terrain of Frosthowl Peak, but his short-sightedness proved to be fatal.

With most of the tribesmen of his village being away on other conquests, serving as hired mercenaries for a foreign king, that left Orpheus with only a handful of warriors to defend their lands.

How would they have been prepared for this? No one had ever dared to invade their lands because of how barren and dangerous it was.

But now they were dealing with unfamiliar enemies who used strange weapons and magic; hence, it was they who were at a disadvantage.

Like any other day in the winter mountains, the air was glacial and harsh enough to freeze one’s limbs off if they stood in one spot for too long. And Orpheus had led a charge of no more than a hundred warriors.

They had nothing but the furs on their backs and the swords and spears in their hands, with only a few being capable of magic. They managed to lead the enemy forces through a rocky valley where it would be difficult for horses to travel through.

Orpheus was already out of breath, his skin riddled with frostbite and his eyes burning from the snowflakes that managed to get inside them.

His men, mostly consisting of the elderly and middle-aged folk, were already exhausted to the bone with the harsh weather beating down on them.

The winds were so strong they could barely take a few steps forward, but they knew they had to persist further if they wanted to survive and defeat the enemy.

The zone they walked through was one that was always at risk of avalanches; it was their only hope to turn the tides against the Romalians. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

It was a fairly simple plan: lead the enemy to the valley, leave behind a small force to bait them while the main force under Orpheus would cause a disturbance from above and trigger an avalanche.

It should have carried out smoothly and they should have emerged victorious, but that was not the case. With a force so small and outnumbered, they couldn’t account for their blindspots or their lack of defence.

The enemy was already several steps ahead of them, lying in wait atop the valley peaks where the snow was thick and heavy.

Orpheus had moved in with his main force, but the dark arts magic-bearers sprung out from the thick blankets of snow and charged forward. They had no fear of weapons; whatever darkness they wielded, it was enough to turn blades and spears to dust.

He didn’t have much time to counterattack since the blizzard was strong and he couldn’t see anything within a few meters in front of him. All he could hear was his men’s screams around him as he looked around, standing guarded with his claymore drawn.

His blood boiled as he heard blades slashing through flesh around him, blood pooling and soaking into the snow, but there was nothing but whirlwinds of snow surrounding him.

One by one, his men were either cut down or their life force was drained by the dark arts magic-bearers.

"Damn it all to hell!" Orpheus cursed, shifting around like a frightened animal that didn’t know when the predator hunting it would strike. "Cowards, the lot of you are! Show yourself!"

He could feel his vision blurring, but this time it wasn’t because of the snow but because of the large slash running from his shoulder down to his ribs. The wound was fresh, one that he received earlier from one of the Romalian commanders he tried to fight off.

It was deep and he was losing blood fast.

That caused him to stagger and lose sense of his surroundings. And before he could even force himself to regain clarity, something had suddenly pierced his chest.

Orpheus didn’t even hear the sound of anyone approaching, only silence after all his men had been killed around him.

He couldn’t see the enemy’s face either, but he felt their spear piercing through his heart, tearing through skin and bone to make the kill.

The pain was agonising, unlike any wound Orpheus had ever felt before. It was so sudden yet torturous because his enemy twisted the spear deeper before they ripped it out.

Orpheus had seen his life flash before his eyes, remembering every moment his father beat him for showing weakness, every moment that he nearly starved to death, and every moment he pushed his body beyond its limits to prove his worthiness.

His life was over before it even began, before he could be acknowledged by his father and before he could begin his conquests in Engaria and then move out across the seven seas until the entire world was in his hands.

Blood quickly bubbled up in his throat, overflowing down the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t long before his lifeless body collapsed into the snow, his eyes wide open after death had claimed him.

He didn’t even have the chance to see the enemy’s face so he could haunt the bastard after death.