The alarm clock wailed like a siren on bath salts.
Riku groaned, yanked the pillow over his head, and prayed the damn thing would just spontaneously combust. It didn't. Of course it didn't.
So he grabbed the clock and slammed it against the floor with a dramatic grunt. The plastic casing cracked. Silence.
["Good morning, Host. Would you like to draw the daily gacha?"]
Still half-asleep, Riku sat up, hair wild, and mumbled a half-assed prayer to every RNG deity across the multiverse. "Dear gods of loot boxes, pity rates, and banner drops… don't screw me."
["Drawing... Congratulations. You've acquired: Enhanced Senses. Heightened smell, hearing, and sight."]
He blinked. "...That's it? No teleportation? No domain expansion? Not even telekinesis?"
He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and muttered, "Can't get broken shit every day. Enhanced senses aren't useless. Just... mid-tier anime protagonist stuff."
Still, he got to work. Same routine. 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 150 jumping jacks. By the end, his shirt was damp with sweat, but it was getting easier. His lungs didn't feel like they were trying to abandon ship.
He showered, got dressed in a black hoodie, gray joggers, and beat-up sneakers, then headed downstairs.
His "dad" glanced up from the newspaper. "What are you doing this weekend?"
"Meeting up with a friend," Riku lied smoothly.
The man lowered the paper. "You have friends? You know imaginary friends don't count… right?"
His mom smacked him on the back of the head with a ladle. "That's great, sweetie. Don't stay out too late."
Riku sat there, frozen with a fake smile. Are parents supposed to roast you for being lonely?
Later, walking through the city with his hands shoved in his pockets, he browsed his phone, scanning for abandoned areas. After an hour, he found it—a crumbling warehouse on the edge of town that looked like it had hosted exactly one meth lab and three failed ghost-hunting YouTubers.
Perfect.
Inside, he began his training.
He closed his eyes, focusing. He tried to feel the cursed energy inside him, to guide it like a stream through his limbs. It slipped through his control like water through cupped hands.
He forced himself to keep going. Punches. Dodges. Focus. Try again. And again.
An hour passed. His breathing was heavy, sweat clinging to his skin. Cursed energy flickered around his knuckles, but it wasn't stable yet.
Then, something hit him.
Not a thought.
A scent.
Metallic. Coppery. Wet.
Blood.
His eyes snapped open. He covered his nose, the overwhelming stench clawing at his brain. His enhanced senses had dialed it up to eleven. He crept forward, drawn by equal parts horror and morbid curiosity.
And then he saw it.
A massive, hulking curse hunched over a human body, tearing into it like it was ribs at a barbeque. Purple skin. One bloodshot eye. Rows of jagged teeth.
Riku ducked behind a rusted wall, nearly gagging.
FUCK my curiosity.
He turned, ready to sneak out—
"Human," the curse growled. "You can see me. And you have cursed energy."
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
He bolted—but the curse landed in front of him with a ground-rattling thud.
"Yes," it grinned. "You'll be a fulfilling meal."
Panic. His heart pounded. His brain screamed. But then—like a hand gripping his lungs—Better Breathing activated, slowing his pulse.
Okay. Okay, maybe I can Spider-Man dodge this bitch with my new senses.
He threw up a stance that even he knew looked like confused Tai Chi. The curse roared with laughter and lunged.
He saw it coming.
His body didn't react fast enough.
He was sent flying into the wall, ribs screaming.
"Shit," he gasped, dragging himself up.
Cursed energy flared across his body like a second skin. He ran at the curse, aiming a punch.
Miss.
The curse swung—he ducked under it.
His fist connected with its gut.
Boom.
It flinched. Then backhanded him across the room.
Pain shot through his shoulder. His head spun.
He grabbed a rock off the ground, cursed energy swirling in his palm.
"Please work," he whispered.
He threw it like a fastball.
Boom.
The curse's arm exploded.
It howled in shock.
Riku's eyes lit up. "Oh shit that worked—!"
He grabbed more rocks, pouring cursed energy into each and launching them like grenades.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Each one struck the curse's chest, limbs, torso—until it collapsed, riddled with holes.
It groaned.
And dissipated into cursed ash.
Riku dropped to his knees, trembling, blood on his hands, sweat dripping down his chin. His heart pounded in his ears.
["Congratulations. You have defeated a Grade 4 Curse. +1 Draw."]
["First Kill Registered. +1 Bonus Draw."]
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
He just laid back on the cracked concrete, eyes staring at the broken ceiling, and whispered—
"…Holy fuck."