Cursed System-Chapter 134: Environment

It felt as though my entire existence had been smashed apart and scattered into meaningless fragments, like glass shattered so finely that even the idea of putting it back together became laughable. I had no clue where they had taken us, no sense of direction, no awareness of what kind of cursed place we were trapped in, and worst of all, I had no way of knowing how the other demon children were faring—Matthew, Elijah, and the rest of them were nothing more than names echoing painfully inside my skull. The not knowing gnawed at me far more viciously than hunger or fear ever could.

Even though my body refused to respond, I still tried to force my throat to work, desperate to see if I could speak, or even let out a sound. But my mouth felt like a dried riverbed abandoned by life itself, my throat scraped raw as if it had been lined with sandpaper and dusted with ash. Even if I managed to push out a word, I knew—deep down—that no one would hear it, or worse, no one would care.

"Ahhhh!"

A blood-curdling scream tore through the air, sharp enough to pierce straight through my skull.

"Please, don't take me… I—I don't… want to die!"

The voice screamed with everything it had, ragged and broken, but it was painfully obvious that the owner of that voice was far too weak to put up even the slightest resistance. The cries bounced and echoed around us, stretching on just long enough to carve themselves into my memory. Then, suddenly, they stopped. A few seconds passed, and the world fell unnaturally quiet once more, returning to that suffocating stillness as if no sound had ever existed in the first place.

Cold sweat soaked my body beneath the armor as terror crawled up my spine. I couldn't see what had happened, but I didn't need to. I knew. Either the child had been killed on the spot… or taken away to wherever the others had gone—someplace far, unreachable, and final.

Time lost all meaning after that. Minutes, hours, days—everything blurred together behind the thick metallic helmet trapping my senses. At irregular intervals, desperate pleas and panicked screams would erupt, only to be silenced moments later. Some of the demon children wailed helplessly, their cries fading too quickly. Others who dared to struggle, even for a heartbeat, were rewarded with the dull, sickening sound of metal smashing against flesh.

What happened to them?

I had asked myself that question so many times that even my mind grew tired of it. I didn't need answers anymore. Even without sight, I could feel it—our numbers were shrinking, one by one, moment by moment. No one ever came back. No explanations. No rumors. Just absence.

In this place, we weren't children. We weren't even prisoners. We were nothing more than lumps of meat laid out on a butcher's block, waiting patiently for the blade to fall when our turn arrived.

Eventually, the constant screams and wails became background noise. I hated myself for that. It wasn't that I had stopped fearing death—far from it. But what was I supposed to do? I didn't know where we were. I didn't know who held us. Escape wasn't even a fantasy worth entertaining.

Unless a miracle happened, I was going to die here.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I could still fight. Maybe, just maybe, if something happened, I could force my body to move. The thought barely formed before I crushed it myself. With the pitiful strength I had left, resistance would only hasten my death.

Then it happened.

Silence.

Not the usual silence that followed screams—but an eerie, suffocating stillness that made my instincts shriek in warning. Earlier, even when children were taken away, there had still been muffled sobs, the scrape of metal, something. Now there was nothing. No cries. No movement. No sound at all.

My imagination ran wild, painting horrifying scenes of how they were taken, how easily they disappeared. And then the thought struck me like a hammer—maybe it was my turn.

As if answering that thought, heavy footsteps echoed in the distance. The unmistakable sound of boots striking solid ground grew closer, each step pounding against my chest like a countdown. I tried to turn my head, desperate to glimpse something—anything—through the tiny holes in the helmet.

I couldn't move.

My head felt fused to the ground, crushed down by the weight of the helmet and the complete absence of strength in my body. I tried to move my limbs next, only to realize that sensation itself had abandoned me long ago. Mana drained. Body numb. Helpless.

For a brief, delirious second, I wondered if this near-death state could be exploited. Maybe this was a chance to break free from this hell. Maybe I could even return to the reincarnation realm and start over.

Then rough hands grabbed me.

My body was yanked off the ground without care, and reality came crashing back. I considered resisting—just a little—but even that felt like madness. Survival was already unlikely. Fighting back would only guarantee my end.

Still, the mystery of what awaited me made my skin crawl and goosebumps explode across my body. Fear wasn't my only concern anymore. I needed answers. I needed a way out.

As my thoughts spiraled, the rusty metal restraining my hands was violently tugged. I couldn't tell if it was being broken or unlocked. The pressure eased gradually, painfully, as the chains scraped and tore at my skin, leaving behind deep scars stained with rust and blood.

Eventually, I heard it—the clatter of metal hitting the floor. The chains were gone.

Before I could process that, my hands were seized again, this time restrained by something different, something tighter, cleaner, colder. A new set of bindings.

Then my body was pulled away, and that familiar, nauseating sensation washed over me—the unmistakable feeling of being dragged through space itself. A teleportation gate. We were going somewhere far, somewhere hidden from the world.

The next moment, my body slammed into hard ground. Pain exploded through my skull as the thick helmet smashed against the floor. My knees were forced down, locking me into a kneeling position. Metal groaned and shifted around my head as pressure weighed down on me.

Clang. Clatter. Grind.

The sounds echoed endlessly inside the helmet until, at last, the weight lifted. Slowly, painfully, the helmet was removed.

Darkness vanished in an instant.

Blinding light flooded my vision, so intense that it burned straight through my eyes. I could see the red veins of my own vision blazing against the brightness as the world finally revealed itself once more.