Chapter Three: The Cursed Object

Ethan rummaged beneath the thick stack of documents on the desk and pulled out a popular science book titled *Understanding 100 Types of Dark Creatures*. The author, August, was said to be an experienced demon hunter who lived during the Fourth Era, a time when the activities of evil gods were most rampant. He was revered as a walking encyclopedia.

The encyclopedia’s author tragically met his end while searching for records on the hundred and first dark creature, passing away at the age of 43.

The book provided a very detailed analysis of werewolves, considered minor dark creatures.

Ethan quickly flipped to the section on werewolves. “Werewolves are devotees of Cynthia, the Goddess of Hunting, who is one of the seven mid-tier deities.”

“Half good, half evil, right?” Ivy replied without looking up.

“However, the Hunting Temple has long since become a mere shadow of its former self, though the number of dark creatures following her has only increased.”

“That’s a consequence of the disciples’ methods of cultivation,” Ethan explained.

He had read every book in town that touched on deities. Though no one had ever truly seen a god’s visage, the evidence strongly suggested their real existence—they were the keys to unlocking the path of transcendence.

Most scholars agreed that the power of gods far exceeded human imagination, making any discussion of their moral alignment pointless. Instead, they categorized divine factions through the good or evil nature of their followers.

The term "mid-tier deity" did not denote strength but rather that the followers of the Hunting Goddess could become either righteous demon hunters or dark creatures like werewolves who preyed on humans.

Ethan distilled the stories and research from the book into a simple theory: “Followers of the Hunting Goddess believe that humans can gain power from beasts and even monsters. They have developed the art of ‘imitation,’ acquiring certain abilities by mimicking the lifestyles of these creatures. However, this has sparked internal debate—how far should this imitation go?”

In theory, the more thorough the imitation, the faster one could step into the realm of the extraordinary. This was a consensus among demon hunters.

But on one crucial issue, two schools of thought diverged sharply: “For example, should they consume humans like beasts and monsters do?”

Over the past two years, Ethan had read many books on mysticism, all of which reached a subtle consensus on cannibalism.

Once a person consumes human flesh, irreversible changes occur in both body and soul.

Only the definition of these “changes” varied—some saw them as retribution and curse, others as growth and evolution.

“So, werewolves are essentially followers who have eaten humans.”

Out of thoroughness, Ethan added, “That’s the origin of werewolves. However, academic research shows that werewolves can reproduce—they give birth to little werewolves.”

Ivy pondered this, unclasped the collar around her neck, and held it up against her pale skin. Her eyes glowed with an eerie green light as she asked Ethan, “Do you think this collar looks good?”

Above her, the golden-haired dog growled vehemently, gesticulating wildly at Ethan as if desperately sending a message—could he confiscate that broken collar from her?

Ethan caught the signal and continued, “If measured solely by strength, werewolves are indeed much more powerful than demon hunters of the same rank. But the downside is they gradually lose human reasoning and become driven by instinct.”

Ivy’s face stiffened, and she threw the collar aside as if shocked.

“So you mean werewolves become dumb?”

“More precisely, they completely lose the ability to think.”

Ethan had pinpointed a weakness of Truth Goddess’s devotees—they would rather die than lose their intellect.

The golden-haired dog was very pleased, nodding vigorously and giving Ethan a thumbs-up.

Ethan steered the conversation back on track, “From the perspective of imitation theory, werewolves cannot be trained. Even if you force a collar on them to tame them, they will only become like huskies.”

“Huskies?”

“I read about them in an ancient book. They’re very destructive dogs that can easily tear down houses. During the Second Era, they were even used as siege weapons.”

“I’ve heard before that dogs were domesticated wolves.”

“If you suspect someone captured a werewolf and placed it on a mountain to be raised as a monster, that person must lack theoretical knowledge. Once a werewolf wears a collar, it deviates from imitation theory and can hardly grow any further.”

Ivy glanced slyly at the collar, embodying the phrase ‘a thief’s heart never dies.’ “I suspect this collar can transform a person into a dark creature.”

Ethan was startled. If the werewolves in the mountains were transformed by cursed objects, that meant they never truly had families from the start.

But at least… the one they sent off was warmed by a fireball spell, allowing it to see its grandmother in its final moments.

Now, Ivy seemed eager to test the collar’s effects.

Miss Ivy, a pure devotee of the Truth Goddess, was the kind of woman who, upon seeing a red button on a wall, couldn’t resist pressing it just to see what it did.

“This is a cursed object that twists the body and damages the soul. It’s estimated to be above third-tier…”

A third-tier cursed object?

No wonder she was so eager; such an item was rare in a frontier town like Creekwood.

Ethan glanced at the disassembled collar laid out on the desk. This unassuming piece of equipment was rated higher than Ivy herself.

Ivy sighed, “I’ll write to the Containment Bureau. If all goes well, the containment team will arrive in town in three days. I’ll need your help.”

He could only recall a sheepskin book he once read, titled *Encyclopedia of Cursed Items*. The author was the former head of the Cursed Objects Containment Bureau, who became director in his early thirties and handled over a hundred cursed items—a young man with limitless potential.

He died at 33 in a containment failure.

The director offered his insights on cursed objects: most curses require a user to unleash their full threat. Thus, rating cursed items involves a comprehensive assessment of the creator’s level and the threat posed.

Ethan judged that Ivy’s “above third-tier” referred to the creator’s rank of the collar.

He silently reviewed the details from the book.

If a third-tier cursed object activates, it could cause great harm to a town, often resulting in dozens of casualties.

Suddenly, Ivy said, “Go get a pen and paper.”

Ethan realized they were about to begin the cursed object assessment. To ensure secure escort and containment, they had to record the object’s characteristics as thoroughly as possible.

“Werewolf Collar (tentative), estimated curse rating: above third-tier.”

Ivy took the pen and paper, earnestly drafting the introduction. She then discussed with Ethan the conditions for returning the collar to town.

“The three hunters who brought the collar back noticed no abnormalities on the way. After meeting you, their desire to wear it gradually lessened. From now on, every answer you give is crucial—Ethan, were you also drawn to the collar when you saw it?”

“Not at all.”

Moreover, Ethan suspected that since Ivy obtained the collar, the golden-haired dog above her head had been silently scolding her. He even suspected that tuft of golden hair might itself be some form of cursed object.

Ivy nodded and continued writing furiously. “The influence correlates with the number of people present, but not clearly with transcendental rank. Recommended escort team: at least two people.”

“Next, the actual effects of the cursed item.”

She bit the pen between her teeth, suddenly struck by inspiration. “Ethan, why don’t you try wearing it?”