Chapter 297: Negotiations? Part 2

Adrian's eyes remained steady — completely unfazed by the Abyssal Harbinger's vile curses. His expression was that of a dragon regarding an ant — indifferent until provoked, lethal when necessary.

Seraphina, however, had no patience for theatrics.

The moment the corrupted soul's shrieking reached its peak, she twirled her staff sharply. The sealing runes on the floor pulsed brilliantly, emitting streams of pure spiritual energy that morphed into chains of light. They lashed out without hesitation, coiling tightly around the wailing soul.

The effect was immediate.

"AARRRGHHH!!" the Harbinger screeched, its ethereal form distorting painfully. The chains burned through its essence like white-hot blades cutting through fog, sapping its strength.

"You can scream all you like," Seraphina said coldly, her blue eyes flashing with disdain. "But your tantrums mean nothing here. You're in our domain now."

Adrian's voice was as cutting as steel. "Speak when spoken to. Obey — or we will erase even your soul's last shred of existence."

The Abyssal Harbinger writhed, its hatred palpable, but its resistance was being crushed under Seraphina's relentless control.

"You will regret this, mortals..." it hissed, though much weaker now. "I was a lord of the Abyss… a harbinger of despair…"

"And now you are nothing but a prisoner," Seraphina replied icily.

The pressure of the sealing formation increased again, causing the entity to shudder visibly, fragments of its dark energy peeling away and evaporating into the air like ash caught in the wind.

Realizing it had no hope of resisting further, the soul began to calm — its hateful curses reducing to shallow growls of resentment.

Adrian stepped forward.

"The curse on Isolda," he demanded, his voice unyielding. "Tell us how to remove it."

There was a pause.

A flicker — subtle, but noticeable — passed through the Harbinger's form. Its core dimmed for a fraction of a second before reshaping again into a warped, serpentine silhouette, coiled in mocking indifference.

"Isolda…?" the Harbinger rasped, its tone carrying an air of confusion that seemed too polished to be genuine. "I know not of this name."

Adrian's expression didn't waver.

Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "She was cursed by your cult — one of your followers. A slow rot of spirit meant to eventually collapse the soul. She is dying slowly."

"I know many curses, mortal witch," the Harbinger sneered, its voice smoother now, measured and deliberate. "But I had no hand in this one. A mere trinket of a spell cast by my lesser servants? Surely beneath the notice of a being such as myself."

"Is that your excuse?" Adrian asked, voice low. "That you let your dogs run wild, then claim no leash when they infect innocents?"

"I am not accountable for every whim and fancy of the wretches who invoked my name," the Harbinger said smoothly. "You want answers, seek the ones who enacted it. Not I."

Seraphina gave no warning.

Her staff moved in a sharp arc, activating another layer of the ritual array. More chains lanced upward from the runes, wrapping around the spectral figure with a hiss of spiritual pressure. This time, they burned brighter, laced with celestial light — not to destroy, but to tear at memory and form.

The Harbinger screamed again — not in rage, but pain. Its essence flared, flickering violently like a dying fire.

"Do you really want to play the victim now?" Seraphina said, her tone a cold blade. "You think we don't know how abyssal cults operate? The rituals, the blood exchanges, the soul taxes? You were the core. The nexus. The fount from which their curses were drawn."

"You're grasping at illusions!" the soul howled, convulsing under the strain. "This Isolda — I never saw her! I never marked her! If she bears a curse, it came from one of the lower hands!"

Adrian's voice dropped to an ominous murmur. "Then perhaps we should treat you like them. Strip you piece by piece until we find the thread that binds you to it."

"No!" The Harbinger writhed again, more desperately this time. "You don't understand! This curse you speak of… it is not grand, not layered with abyssal depth! A simple corruption curse, likely imbued through indirect contact with abyssal residue or a bloodied relic. Petty magic. I would never stoop to weaving something so inelegant."

Seraphina stepped forward, her staff now glowing with a silver hue — evidence of a deeper layer of divine-infused torment.

"Then lift it," she said. "You want to pretend it's beneath you? Prove it. A being of your level should be able to dismantle a curse of that degree with no effort."

"I would… if I could see it," the soul hissed. "But I am caged! Shackled! You demand a painter to work without canvas!"

"Liar," Seraphina spat, and flicked her staff once more.

This time, a smaller rune circle ignited — just beneath the crystal. It projected a faint illusion into the air, shimmering like a watery reflection.

Within it appeared a glowing thread of sickly black — the visual representation of the very curse clinging to Isolda's spiritual frame. It pulsed weakly, but it was clear: a direct link to an abyssal origin.

The Harbinger's form went still.

Then, it laughed.

A low, echoing chuckle that was more hollow than mocking. "Ah… so you did prepare…"

Seraphina didn't smile. "Remove it."

"I cannot," it said simply. "Not from here. The cage binds me too tightly. You want precision work? Then unbind me. Let me touch the curse — even through you."

Adrian's eyes flared. "Do you take me for a fool?"

"No, Lord Everhart," the Harbinger whispered. "I take you for a desperate man."

The air went heavy.

A tense silence fell between the trio — Seraphina, Adrian, and the wretched soul — before Seraphina finally exhaled through her nose, frustrated.

"He's not lying about that last part," she said slowly. "If he's bound too tightly, he can't reach the anchor of the curse. His essence would need to move through one of us to touch it."

Adrian's jaw clenched. "And if we do that, even partially, he could latch onto us."

"Not if we control it," Seraphina said cautiously, already thinking through contingencies. "He channels the energy. But we bind the result."

Adrian looked back at the crystal. The Harbinger was still now, flickering faintly, as though conserving what remained of its power. But the cunning never left its glow.

"Then looks like we're done for today," Adrian said finally.

Seraphina nodded. With a gesture of her staff, the chains constricted again, silencing the Harbinger's core and dimming the crystal to its dormant state.