“Aaaaagh, darn it!”

  God of Chaos, my arse on fire! More like God of Internet Trolls! Wait until we find a way to kill deities…

  I thought you were happy about this?

  Oh, I am—to a point. I just hate being made for a fool.

  With a sigh, I dismiss the window with an annoyed sweep of my hand. The gesture isn’t even necessary because the interface responds perfectly well to mental commands, but it helps ease up my frustration. With another command, I bring up a second window.

  With a groan, I look away from the blue box and towards the table where books and parchments are piled up around that stupid crystal cup. The [Background] part of the curse description used to be practically empty until I read those books. The information added itself afterwards, although only a very condensed version of the whole story. And that story in turn is only a small fraction of what the books contain.

  These were actually written by Victoria and former hosts of the curse. In truth, many are just pages after pages of demented rambling. Even Victoria’s, past the first year, looks like something a murderous sociopath would write, including many…err…creative ideas on how she’d deal with her father if she could, as well as…err…creative ideas on what she’d do with her husband after he find her.

  Let’s just say that girl has a lot of imagination.

  Can’t we re-read the part about the foursome with the wyvern and the golem?

  Not now.

  Aw…

  Later, maybe, if you behave.

  Yeee-haaah!

  Back to the subject of the diaries, the only one relatively coherent—and by far the most enlightening—is Ambrose’s diary…if of course, you manage to read around the countless paragraphs of self-loathing and apologies. I swear, this man has raised whining to an art form!

  “Although…” I sigh and roll back on top of the large canopy bed. Grabbing one of the many pillows, I hug it and rub my head pensively against its fluffiness. “I suppose I’d be pretty upset too if I spent ten years looking for my wife, only to kill her myself by mistake, then be cursed to look like her while her voice screams horrors inside my head all day long.”

  What a moron.

  “Well, sure, but…Hell. I am uncomfortable with it. And I never knew the girl.”

  Shame. She seems like a riot.

  No, he was the one who revolted.

  ……sigh.

  I’m getting better at dealing with this curse, though. Plus, I’ll admit I cheated. I’m usually all for immersive gaming, roleplaying, and setting the pain levels to [Real]…but constant wailing inside my head is just a bit past my threshold.

  After barely half a day, I muted the game. It’s not like anything makes any sound in this damn tower. There’s just thunder outside. And somehow that doesn’t stop me from hearing my own voice. I think it’s in the options—somewhere in the menu—but I’m too lazy to check.

  Letting out another groan, I mumble a command, needing to once again convince me this is really happening. “UT Command. Open [Status Window].”

  Remaining SP: 0

  *Stat Points cannot be added to this stat.

  “Ugh.” I push my face into the pillow and scream, rolling around on the bed.

  It helps.

  When I eventually calm down, I glance over my new stats once again and sigh. Gender aside, I’ve become some kind of ridiculous glass cannon. I’ve got enough mana to blast off a dragon, probably, but I’d also probably die if that dragon as much as sneezes in my general direction.

  Fucking stupid.

  Wouldn’t have said it better myself. This curse has made a mess of my stats.

  We do look smoking, though.

  I’m not even sure how certain aspects of this curse work. For example, since I’m some sort of half-vampire now, my light magic is sealed and I lost my alignment to the Sun God—Okay, till there, I follow. But the title [Loved by the Sun] is still active. I don’t get it. Why would the Sun God love the de facto Queen of Vampire?

  That’s what the title [Progenitor] means by the way. The system says it’s because Victoria was an [Awakened] descendant of that [Markus Sangbleu] guy, the [First Progenitor of Vampires]…Whatever that means.

  There’s probably something on the subject in one of those books. I still haven’t finished reading all of them, and there are more in other rooms of the tower. I’m still hoping I’ll find more about the curse, and especially on how to break it—since apparently I can’t use the standard way. No matter how obnoxious the quest giver is, I still want to finish that [Plot] quest.

  “Stupid name for a quest,” I mumble against the cushion.

  *ting*

  It sucks…hey. Sucks. Get it?“Your naming sense is terrible, Bob.”

  Shush you, or I smash my head with a sledgehammer.

  *ting*

  “Is this supposed to be intimidating?”

  *ting*

  “Well, you fail.”

  *ting*

  Toby is the God of Order…or Goddess…I don’t know. Gender is a bit of a moot point because both are conceptual beings. They don’t have any fixed physical form. Especially Chaos—for obvious reasons. I’ve never seen Order, though, but I’ve seen statues. All of them depict the divinity as kind of androgynous, although followers of Order refer to him as male. I prefer not to think too deeply about it.“I don’t wanna know. Your couple issues are not my problem.”

  More so since recently—recently as in: two days ago—I discovered that these two are…kind of an item? Again, it’s complicated because they are also siblings…but they gave birth to all the other gods and goddesses…sooo…err…yeah.

  Well, anyone with a little knowledge of Greek or Roman mythology—or any polytheist mythology really—would be able to tell you: Gods’ family relationships are messy, messy, messy.

  Point is, Order and Chaos had a lover’s spat for what I can gather. For the past two days, on top on everything else I’ve had to endure, I’ve been forced to listen to Bob’s whining. Let me tell you, gods blow everything out of proportion, even whining! And I can’t disable his messages, because…well…god. Also, I’m technically his [Apostle], though I don’t remember ever signing up for the job.

  *ting*

  Once firm on my feet, I walk to the table. I’m thirsty. It’s annoying. In fact, I wouldn’t mind the recurring bloodthirst so much if only I had real blood to drink. But this synthetic mixture is just awful. I take a swig and force myself to swallow. “Uagh.”“I don’t care.” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, taking a moment to stabilise. I’ve been getting used to the new weight distribution of my avatar. In particular the added mass in the chest area. The lack of friction between my thighs is surprisingly welcome, though.

  Taste like crap.

  I know. I don’t need you to point that out.

  I point it out because you won’t say it.

  I don’t like swearing so crudely.

  I turn away from the table and towards the vanity. Since I’ve got nothing else to do right now—and since the nurse was nice enough to provide them without asking too many questions—I’ll see if I can put Steph’s advices into application.

  *ting*

  “OH SHHH-ugar! Whoaaa…” Startled by the sudden window, I stumble, trip, and fall forwards. My eyes widen as I see the corner of the vanity approach.

  *BANG*

  Pain explodes between my eyebrows then…nothing. Only darkness, and a familiar—much too familiar—blue box.

  *tutu*

  .

  .

  .

  .

  .

  .

  I open my eyes. I am lying on my large four-poster bed, amongst my fluffy pillows, staring at the beautiful blue rose carved into the redwood canopy. Between me and the carving, another blue rectangle is floating.

  I groan. “Aw…dammit. Not again.”

  *ting*

  My thin and elegant white eyebrow twitches in annoyance, and in my most deadpan tone, I drop, “I’m logging out.”

  *ting*

  The beautiful bedroom immediately fades around me, replaced by endless whiteness and I feel my consciousness slipping as if drifting off to sleep. Just before my brain shuts down, I hear one last chime accompanying an incoming message.I ignore the god. “UT Command. Log out.”

  That guy doesn’t know when to quit.

  * * * * *

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  NEXT TIME: Internet is a scary place.