Cursed System-Chapter 115: The dangerous desert 2

After finishing my usual routine outside—tightening the reins, exchanging a few curt nods with the black steel knight beside me, pretending as though I wasn’t constantly calculating the distance between myself and every possible threat—I finally stepped down and pushed open the carriage door.

The moment it creaked open, the smell hit me.

No, "smell" is too gentle a word. It was an assault. A suffocating, thick, almost sentient stench of sweat, dirt, unwashed bodies, and fear fermented under desert heat. It rushed straight into my nostrils like toxic fumes, so dense I genuinely wondered if I could choke on it.

I froze at the entrance, hand still on the handle.

For a brief second, I just stared at them.

They stared back.

Wide eyes. Pale faces. Lips pressed thin. Some of them clutched their weapons like children clutching blankets in a thunderstorm. And before stepping in, I had to hold my breath—literally seal my lungs shut—because if I inhaled deeply, I was certain I would either gag or lose what little composure I had left.

Strangely enough, I considered it a blessing in disguise.

My urge—the hunger coiled deep inside me like a starving beast—had been gnawing at my rationality more frequently lately. There were moments when my thoughts blurred, when my control thinned like worn fabric. But this smell? This overwhelming, disgusting, unbearable odor? It gave me the perfect excuse to shut everything down.

I dulled my senses deliberately.

Sight dimmed. Hearing muted. Smell blocked. Taste suppressed. Touch numbed.

It was like wrapping my mind in a thin sheet of tin—fragile, yes, but just enough to act as a barrier between me and the monster inside. If I could feel less, then maybe I could want less.

After steadying myself, I exhaled slowly and walked in.

"Reiner, Berthold," I said quietly, my voice flat but firm. "Keep watch. If I’m needed for patrol or to ride again, let me know."

They nodded. I didn’t wait for further questions.

Because the real battle wasn’t outside.

It was inside me.

Lately, I could feel my mana core swelling—expanding, pressing outward like a heart beating too violently inside a cage. It had reached a bottleneck. I could sense it clearly. And I knew why.

Restraint.

Every time I suppressed myself, every time I resisted the urge to tear into flesh, my mana churned violently. Add to that my constant use of the meditation technique and my Sub-Technique, pushing my body and mind beyond their limits again and again—it was no wonder something felt... wrong.

But even then, my greatest enemy wasn’t exhaustion.

It was hunger.

Not ordinary hunger. Not the mild irritation you feel after skipping breakfast. Not even the hollow ache after a long day of training.

No.

This was the kind of hunger that never left.

The kind that lurked behind every thought.

The kind that whispered.

Even after finishing a full meal, even after scraping the last crumbs from my portion, it lingered. It wasn’t satisfied by bread. It wasn’t fooled by water. It didn’t care for reason.

It wanted flesh.

And the more I resisted, the stronger it grew.

Back when Tim stole half my meal once, I thought that was unbearable hunger. I remember sulking for hours over it. Pathetic, in hindsight. Now? Now I could eat every bite placed before me and still feel like I had swallowed nothing more than a drop of water tossed into an endless ocean.

It was maddening.

After a long session of cultivation, I managed—barely—to push the hunger down to a dull roar instead of a scream. Seizing the moment, I opened my system interface.

{Host Attributes}

» Level (Rank-): 8

» Name: Ragna Ringwood

» Titles: Cursed Child

» Race: Unknown

» Exp: 29,000/32,0000

» HP: 150/126

[Attributes]

› Mana: 27

› Strength: 27

› Perception: 27

› Vitality: 27

› Agility: 27

› Mana Sensitive: 27

› Mental Fortitude: 27

{Attribute Points: 210}

Ever since that notification—about my attribute points halving and my HP decreasing—it had been relentless. Every passing hour, a quiet "-1" ticked away like an executioner’s countdown.

I wasn’t even sure I was myself anymore.

And yet, when I looked at my reflection in a polished metal surface, I saw the same face. The same eyes. The same expressionless mask.

But inside?

It felt like there was a thin, invisible barrier restraining me—like my true strength was locked behind a wall I couldn’t break through. I could sense my potential, but I couldn’t fully access it.

It was frustrating.

Flabbergasting.

Almost surreal.

For a moment, I considered pouring more attribute points into my stats. Sixty unused points sat there temptingly. I could strengthen myself immediately.

But no.

If I relied on that now, I’d grow dependent. What I needed wasn’t artificial reinforcement. What I needed was real growth—earned through the life-threatening trials of this desert.

And yet... that thought led me somewhere darker.

If I wanted true growth... I needed to consume a cursed child.

Without killing one.

Without getting caught.

Was it possible?

Before we ventured deep into the desert, maybe. Back when vigilance was loose and morale was high. But now? After the casualties? After the wolves? Everyone was on edge.

Trying now would be reckless.

Still... the thought lingered.

Since the first deaths, the atmosphere inside the carriage had changed. It wasn’t just fear anymore.

It was mourning.

Some of them had only just begun to feel what it meant to belong—to find someone they could call family. And then, in a single brutal attack, that fragile warmth was torn away.

"Vice-captain, you’re back." 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

The voice was small. Freckled boy. Forced smile.

"Yeah," I replied absentmindedly, opening my eyes fully and looking at him.

I pulled out a piece of flatbread and bit into it.

Dry.

Cracking.

It felt like chewing on tree bark stripped from a dead trunk. Each bite scraped against my tongue, stubborn and tasteless. Still, I forced myself to swallow.

And the moment I did, my stomach twisted violently.

Pain shot through me so sharply I had to lean back against the metallic plank wall. I grabbed my water flask and chugged it down, the liquid sloshing heavily in my stomach. After a moment, I exhaled a mouthful of turbid air.

"To—Ragna... I mean, vice-captain," the freckled boy stammered, "what’s it like outside? How many more days until we’re out of this damn place?"

His question drew everyone’s attention.

Slowly, one by one, they all turned to look at me.

While riding earlier, I’d overheard the knight lords speaking. Not to me, of course—but I listened.

"We’ve traveled more than half the distance," I said slowly, my voice cold and steady. "If nothing goes wrong... we’ll reach our destination in another half a month."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

"Half a month?!" the boy nearly shouted, tugging at his hair. "These past few days have been the worst of my life! I can’t even sleep properly! I’m scared to pee!"

A few weak chuckles rippled through the carriage, but they were hollow.

"I swear," he continued bitterly, "even back in my village, when my life was in danger, it wasn’t like this. At least there I didn’t have to worry about being torn apart by some stray beast or eaten alive by devilish, man-eating zombie bees!"

His voice cracked.

And as I listened, staring at their trembling hands and exhausted faces, I couldn’t help but think—

They were afraid of the desert.

They had no idea they should be more afraid of me.