The Feast of Curses... and the Grand Escape Prank

The Feast of Curses... and the Grand Escape Prank

The echoes of the ancient tunnels split open again as the sound of Arion's heavy steps sliced through the silence of the stone.

He was running, panting, cursing his lungs, his legs, and that unknown dwarf who dug these tunnels without once thinking to add a tiny emergency exit in the corner.

"Alright... alright..." he murmured as he pressed a hand to his chest as if to shove his heart out alone and leave him here to die. "Someone once said fleeing is courage?! I want to slap him!"

Behind him, the pounding iron feet grew louder. The ten... or what was left of them... were running after him, their voices united in a symphony of curses worthy of being framed on the walls of a public restroom as a historic memento.

"Kyaaaaaaaa!"

"Grrrr! Son of the rotten beetle! Come back so I can roast your liver!"

"Cut him! Drink his blood! Damn you all!"

"You who suckled from a dead donkey's teat!"

In any other situation, Arion would have applauded them. But here, standing on cold metal dirt beneath his feet, he found nothing worth clapping for—except the thought that he was still alive.

He let out a laugh between gasps. "Ah... really? Curses on curses? Don't you have a bigger dictionary? At least say something philosophical... like: Son of embodied oblivion... you born from a grave's exhale!"

But he barely finished the line in his head when an axe slammed its handle into the stone beside him, stone shards spraying his cheek.

"Hahaha... forgot. Philosophy doesn't suit packs like these."

The tunnel was narrowing gradually. In the creeping shadows ahead, he saw a narrow fork leading to a decayed side passage. He had only two options: face his fate as a human barbecue—or hide like a blind rat.

Being a realist in desperate moments, Arion chose the rat.

He leapt between twisted rocks. His body scraped on old iron edges, tore his already ragged shirt, his foot slipped but he clung on with his teeth if he had to.

When he stopped, he found himself in a low-ceilinged chamber, filled with the remains of dwarves who died here centuries ago—decaying skeletons, boxes of junk, and patches of glowing fungi.

"Perfect place for a man to die alone... brilliant!"

He squatted down, drew his only dagger, stabbed it twice into the dirt before him like planting two venomous flowers. Then he exhaled, muttering to the void:

"Dear Arion... quick reflection: here you are now, in a filthy hole underground, hunted by a gang of obsessed foul-mouths, and your only hope is to find some dirt to dig a bigger hole..."

He heard their approaching voices echo closer. One of the motionless corpses by his knee twitched a little—turns out what he thought was a skeleton was actually a fat rat living among the bones.

"My little rat... don't worry. If I survive, I'll name you the guardian of my throne."

But he wasn't in the mood for jokes for long. He grabbed a handful of damp soil, dug quickly with his fingers like a crazed mole. Every grain stuck under his nails reminded him that escape alone wasn't enough—he needed a new trick.

He summoned his skill window in his mind. "Alright, my dear system, here we go again... can I expand the hole here?"

The system replied coldly, unlike its frantic owner:

> [No hole detected yet.]

"Right! Hahaha! First the hole, genius!"

He dug... dug... until there was a shallow pit like a thirsty mouth in front of him. He placed an old bone shard as a fragile support, rested a small stone cover on it, then rose on his toes, straining to catch his pursuers' steps.

They were close. Ten steps... seven... three...

"Now, my miserable brain! Expand!"

> [Skill Activated: Temporary Hole Expansion]

In a second, the stone mouth beneath his feet opened wider than he expected.

Best part? He heard the first two goblins scream: "Kyaaaaaaaaa!"

"Woooooooh!"

Then came the thud of flesh hitting armor hitting rock in total darkness.

Arion laughed, barely keeping himself from falling in with them. "Ah... never thought I'd hear such a symphony of howls and crashes."

But his joy was short-lived. The others didn't stop. They leapt over their fallen comrades, weapons drawn. They understood the trick instantly. The curses came back twice as vicious.

"Son of ruin!"

"Damn you with the dwarves' curse!"

"I'll rip out your liver and cook it with saffron!"

Arion burst out laughing amid all the madness. "Really? Saffron? Where'd you get saffron down here?"

But the incoming blade wasn't joking. He ducked at the last moment, feeling the heat of metal searing his cheek, then crawled on his belly among bones like a baby returning to a womb in a tomb.

He lunged toward another side. Found a broken ladder leading to a narrow ventilation shaft. He thought for a moment: "If I get stuck here, I'll be crushed like a bone between their teeth..."

Yet he grinned anyway. "Still better than what's waiting for me out there!"

He shoved himself forward, scraping skin on stone. Their shouts closed in behind him: "Come out, son of the rat!"

"Come out so I can whip your bare back!"

"Come out so I can make a bag from your skin!"

He crawled, teeth grinding. If not for his ragged breath, he'd have heard fate itself laughing at him.

But when he spotted a faint green glow ahead, his eyes gleamed with stubborn fire.

"Whatever's behind this shaft... I bet I'll live to curse you all tomorrow!"

He bid the goblins farewell with a mocking whistle, then slipped into deeper shadows—leaving behind ten boiling hearts... and filthy words that might just become an anthem for a new generation of chaos.