The Strongest Curse Master

"Why the fuck would they do that?" Ace asked, his voice laced with both dismay and panic.

Something about being awarded the Slayer title just didn't sit right with him. As far as the Mortal World's curse community was concerned, his only known contribution was Sir Beyton claiming that he was the one who killed the congressman, mayor, and commissioner. Sure, that event had set off a chain reaction that eventually led to the downfall of the Samsara Cult, but crediting him with the cult's complete destruction? That made zero sense.

In a world where people who actually deserved recognition had their achievements stolen, Ace receiving credit for the destruction of the Samsara Cult and being awarded the title Samsara Slayer felt way too good to be true. It was enough to set off alarms in his head.

After all, the C.I.B. and the forces that participated in hunting and killing every last one of the Samsara Cult members should have been fighting amongst themselves for their share of the credit. But somehow, instead, they all decided that Ace was the one who contributed the most and even went on to award him the slayer title, making it seem like without Ace, the Samsara Cult's destruction wouldn't have been possible.

Elinor raised an eyebrow and asked in sheer disbelief, "Wait, why do you sound so pissed? You do realize that a Slayer title is one of the most coveted honors out there, right? Even my cousin, Crimson Eyes, never got one. Not that he couldn't, he just doesn't care."

She then studied Ace for a moment, a little surprised by how unbothered—no, outright irritated—he seemed about the whole thing. She even began to believe he seriously did not want it. This thought caused her envy for him to spike as she reached to a conclusion, 'Shit… is Ace cooler than me?'

Ace shook his head, his expression darkening, as he grudgingly answered, "No. I don't like this. Not one bit."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair and continued, "I don't give a shit about their recognition. They can have it back. They don't have my consent to slap this title on me. I don't recognize it, and I sure as hell didn't apply for it."

He locked eyes with Elinor's, his frustration mounting in them as he asked her, "Who do I talk to about this? There's gotta be someone I can protest to, right?"

"Yeah, no… I don't think it works like that," Elinor said, shaking her head. "But you should talk to Delores about it. She's been trying to change her slayer title to Storm Surfer or Sexy Slayer for decades now."

She leaned back, folding her arms as an annoyed thought crossed her mind, 'Is Ace rubbing it in that he got a Slayer title even though he doesn't want it?' She scoffed internally, 'I didn't take him for a showoff. He should tone it down. They say I killed a Void-tier, and you don't see me bragging.'

Ace rolled his eyes. "You're no help. When's Delores getting back from patrol? Or just go fetch me the real Janice." His irritation seeped into his words, and he didn't bother hiding it. In his defense, he needed someone who could actually see what was going on instead of being petty about some damn title.

Elinor shot him a sharp glare. "I'm not your errand girl," she snapped before turning back to her drink. Seeing that it was empty, she lazily snapped her fingers at Clone Janice, who promptly refilled it using a magical pitcher that seemed to be bottomless.

Ace raised an eyebrow a little taken aback, 'Really?'

Normally, he might've apologized for snapping at her, but right now? He wasn't in the mood. Instead, a sadistic grin subconsciously curled on his lips as he leaned forward.

"Oh, Elinor, I almost forgot to tell you," he began, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. "That 100 billion dollars I promised you to bail out Lilith? Yeah, it's gonna be delayed. Some minor banking issue. Apparently, they won't let me take out such a huge amount all at once."

Then he leaned back on the railing, watching her reaction with amusement.

"Listen here, you little twerp. I know what you're trying to do. Don't think you can turn me into your errand girl by lording your money over my head—" Elinor snapped, her eyes narrowing.

Before she could finish, Ace cut in, raising his hands in mock surrender

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What gave you that idea? Where is this even coming from? I could never use my money to manipulate my friends. If you don't believe me, check with the bank. You literally can't withdraw or transfer that much at once. If I did, the bank would collapse. They said they could only process it in small payments over a year or two."

Elinor crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Why do you keep saying bank? I clearly remember you telling me you'd pay me in cryptocurrency."

Ace sighed dramatically. "The crypto market tanked recently, so I had to sell everything. Otherwise, I would've lost billions. You understand how these things work, right?" His tone was dripping with fake innocence, and Elinor wasn't buying a second of it.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "You're such an asshole, you know that?"

Still grumbling under her breath, she pushed her mocktail aside and stood up, reluctantly deciding to go fetch Janice. But just as she was about to move—The door swung open, and Janice walked out of the house.

At that exact moment, the clone Janice on the lounge chair collapsed, shrinking into a tiny, inch-long paper cutout of a human figure. Written across it in dried blood were the words: Janice McSuile.

Janice picked up the eerie paper figurine, turning it over in her fingers. "What the fuck is going on here? If I had been even one second late, this paper clone would've gone on a rampage."

"Ace kept ignoring her, treating her like a nobody once he figured out she was just a clone of yours," Elinor said, pointing at him. She seemed to have forgotten about her treating clone Janice as her personal errand girl.

Ace blinked. "Wait—how does this even work? You know what the clone was going to do, but you don't know what it's doing? I'm confused."

Janice sighed, rubbing her temple. "It's a cursed tool. I know its status while it's carrying out my orders, but I don't know exactly how it executes them."

She then shot him a warning look before continuing seriously, "You better have a damn good explanation for this. I had to pause my crafting process to come check on it."

Ace exhaled sharply, cutting straight to the point. "It's about the Slayer title. Why the hell did they award me the Samsara Slayer title when I had nothing to do with the cult's destruction?"

Janice stared at him for a moment before tilting her head. "Wait… didn't I already warn you about this? What did you think I was talking about when I mentioned the Slayer's Curse?"

Ace frowned. "What? How is being haunted by the Slayer's Curse and getting credited for destroying the Samsara Cult the same thing?" His voice was laced with sheer disbelief

When Janice first mentioned the Slayer's Curse, Ace assumed it meant dealing with pompous young masters looking to make a name for themselves or remnants of the cult trying to get even with him for the small role he played in their downfall. But never—not even for a second—did he think they would officially credit him as the one responsible for the cult's destruction.

They hadn't just painted a target on his back; they had practically neon-lit it. No, it was worse than that. They had made him the mortal enemy of the cult. The moment his title was announced, the cult's remnants wouldn't hesitate to throw their lives away just to take him down. This wasn't just some inconvenience—it was an outright death sentence.

Ace and the cult were now at a point where only one of them would walk away alive. And there was only one Ace. Meanwhile, no one had any idea how many devoted cultists were still out there, who they were, or where they were hiding.

The more he thought about it, the more it felt like the entire Mortal World's curse community had come together and conspired against him. They had collectively decided to turn him into bait—to use him to lure out the remaining cultists.

The realization made his stomach turn, but it was the only explanation that made sense. Why else would they award a Mortal-tier with a Slayer title?

Janice, on the other hand, looked at him like he was losing it, and asked, "What do you mean? I explicitly told you they were rewarding you with a Slayer title. You seemed fine with it back then. What's changed now?"

She truly couldn't understand what his problem was.

"Are you kidding me?!" Ace snapped, his frustration boiling over. "You guys—the entire curse community of this country—turned me into bait! Don't act innocent. You knew, didn't you? That's why you moved here in the first place. Just drop the act and tell me—whose idea was it? Who suggested I be the sacrificial lamb?"

Janice let out a small smirk, tilting her head as if reminiscing about something amusing.

"It was Elinor's father," she admitted, crossing her arms. "I have no idea what you did to him, but man, he was pissed. I've never seen my uncle hate a young curse master that much."

Her smirk widened slightly as she recalled the meeting.

"The moment he proposed the idea and explained why it should be you, the other forces didn't even hesitate to agree. You were just a nobody to them, Ace. They didn't care if you lived or died. I am sorry. All I could do was move here to ensure your and your family's safety personally."