Between one person and the next, I kept flicking my interface open whenever the curse loosened its grip enough to let me breathe.

  Not long, never long, but enough.

  The shop was a labyrinth, with endless categories, branching submenus, and tags upon tags. I wasn’t just searching for useful items anymore. I was scanning for something specific.

  Potions.

  Not the bloodline nonsense, the kind that made your genes weep and rewrote your species while stapling a curse to your soul. Those were a hard pass.

  No, I wanted the other kind.

  The ones hidden several layers deep in the “Consumables – Enhancing – Permanent (Minor)” section.

  The ones that absolutely should not have existed for the price they were listed at.

  Permanent stat potions.

  With curses.

  Tiny curses.

  Lesser ones.

  Things that sounded more like annoyances than life-threatening afflictions.

  And considering I discovered that ailments and conditions would be “cleansed” once we crossed the exit door…

  Well.

  I might’ve found a cheat.

  The Potion of Lesser Strength caught my eye first.

  The best part?

  Stackable.

  As many times as I could afford to drink.

  And the curse? Mild. Easy to endure. Probably gone at the exit door.

  Then there was the Potion of Lesser Intelligence:

  The Intelligence boost tempted me hard.

  The curse sounded like the mental equivalent of fidgeting.

  Then the Potion of Lesser Wisdom:

  That one felt nearly positive as a side effect.

  Probably there was more to it.

  I saved it to the list anyway.

  Finally, Potion of Lesser Endurance:

  Annoying, but survivable.

  I stared at the Strength potion again, thumb hovering over the description.

  Stackable. Cheap. Curse removable.

  It felt like cheating.

  A gift from the system slipped under the table.

  Or bait.

  Either way, it was something to consider. There were many others, but the side effects were worse than any possible benefits a thousand times over. So no, hard pass.

  But potions weren’t the only thing I found.

  The “cursed items” tab was a parade of nightmares, everything came in cursed variants if you dug deep enough. But some of them… some of them felt manageable.

  Like I could shoulder the curse, ride it out, and walk away stronger.

  A cloak, long and dark, woven with arcane threads:

  I could handle the cold.

  Especially if the curse vanished the moment we stepped outside.

  A shield, circular, etched with runes that pulsed faintly:

  Annoying. But functional.

  A mace made entirely of metal, as long as a sword, heavy, marked with sigils:

  Honestly?

  That one almost felt like a bargain.

  And a grimoire, dark-bound and humming with quiet potential:

  Unpleasant, but compared to the curse already in my skull?

  Barely a breeze.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  For skills, I avoided cursed ones. I had enough curses in my life.

  Instead, I already bought two basic tomes; they were more affordable and safe.

  Good for crowd control. Good for getting someone off me if they get too close.

  I had learned something important while browsing:

  Arcane skills were broader than mana skills.

  Mana was just one form of energy.

  Arcane was much more comprehensive.

  It included mana, yes, but also conceptual energies, dimensional ones, and elementals.

  Starting with a full arcane set of abilities and a trait…

  I’d lucked out without realising it.

  I took a moment to test out my skills; there was no way I would go on about without knowing what I really was capable of. I went to a corner where people were testing out their own; fighters could hit harder, harden their body or move faster. Nothing superhuman yet, but good anyway. Some people were destroying crossbow bolts on the unbreakable wall while practicing with the crossbows. So I took a bit of space for myself and felt for the new skills I got.

  It was strange… when I purchased them, I got nothing like a matrix-style downloading of information in my brain, no. It felt more like I had known already how to do it, and only now that I was trying to use them was I remembering how. Like a form of muscle memory.

  I lifted my right hand in front of me and pointed my finger at the wall, I was trying to do things properly, with the foundational skill I had, I wanted to possibly level them up and understand how all of this worked, damn magic was real now, I could already feel the mana moving about in the air, but now I was focusing on the energy inside me. I could feel it coming from somewhere, flowing through me, and the skill was concentrating it in a stream in my arm; then it pooled in the finger I was pointing at the wall. There, it started to exit my finger and condensed into a light blue, marble-sized sphere of mana.

  I kept the projectile still, trying to study how it worked, but after a couple of seconds my hold on the spell broke and the projectile was launched at the wall, creating no damage on the indestructible wall but making a somewhat loud bang.

  Some people turned to look at me, none of the other mages were so loud with their attacks, not even the firebolt guy.

  I addressed the onlookers with a smile. “Sorry guys, just testing a couple of spells.”

  I could feel my curse starting to claw at me again; I had to be quick.

  After trying a few more times to shoot the projectile, I found out that I could put more or even less mana into the skill. I could shoot it from every part of my body if I wanted to, but some were harder than others; my hands were the best and easiest to work with. Then I moved on the push skill.

  And boy, this was really mana intensive; while I could probably shoot a good few dozen projectiles, I could use the push not more than five or six times, I reckon. But I loved the skill. Despite being a few meter away from the wall, when I used it, the blast hit forward, displacing the air and making me take a step back on reflex, if people were just observing before, now they were looking right at me. The rush of air made a guy stumble a bit, and he was not even directly impacted, if someone was in front of me they would undoubtedly be thrown back. Well, a human-sized creature at least. I doubt that I could push away a grizzly for now.

  The fun time was over; people demanded my attention, while none of my skills levelled up. I was even cursed, even annoyed by the situation, even stretched thin…

  I felt the faintest spark of confidence forming in my chest.

  For a moment, I felt things were going my way. But I will have to discuss my findings with the group. So I went about doing just that.

  While I was moving towards the group, another flash of light occurred, and more people went on in the tutorial. I couldn’t see the two teenage knights anymore; they were probably among the first to go.

  I reached Matthew, Tom, Rhea, and Mary, my little anchor points in this chaos. They were mid-discussion about group formations, with Tom taking the lead with professional ease. A few others hovered nearby, half-listening, half-pretending not to. Confusion and fear made people gravitate towards any modicum of order.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “I’ve been digging through the shop menu, and I found something we all need to know.”

  Tom folded his arms. “If it’s about stats, half these folks barely figured out how to open the interface.”

  “It’s about cursed items,” I said. “And potions.”

  A visible ripple went through the group—recoiling, discomfort, and a few muttered curses.

  Mary was the first to recover. “Cursed,” she repeated, voice steady. “How bad are we talking?”

  “That depends,” I said. “Some are horrific. Some are manageable. And a few are… honestly, exploitable.”

  Matthew blinked at me, confused. “Exploitable?”

  Rhea didn’t say a word, but she leant in slightly, clearly interested.

  I took a breath and laid it out.

  “I found permanent stat potions,” I said. “Real, permanent increases. Strength, intelligence, wisdom, endurance—everything. And they’re cheap. Ridiculously cheap. Because every single one of them comes with a minor curse.”

  Someone in the back snorted. “Yeah, no. Hard pass.”

  Another added, “I’m not drinking something cursed just to lift a rock easier.”

  I lifted both hands. “I get the reaction. But listen—these are lesser curses. The weakest tier. More like annoyances than dangers. Muscle twitches. Momentary lapses of focus. A short wave of tiredness after running. Barely worse than a headache.”

  Tom frowned. “And your brilliant idea is that we… drink them anyway?”

  “If you want the stat boost... maybe,” I said honestly. “But here’s the important part: we know that crossing the door cleanses ailments and conditions when we exit the safe zone.”

  Rhea’s eyes narrowed. “Curses count as conditions.”

  “Exactly.” I nodded. “So you get the stat point permanently, and the curse gets wiped the moment we step through that door.”

  A low murmur rose from the group.

  “That’s cheating,” Matthew said. But he sounded impressed, not disapproving.

  “It’s using the system’s rules to our advantage,” I replied. “If there’s a loophole, we’d be idiots not to at least consider using it.”

  A woman further back shook her head violently. “I don’t care if it turns me into Einstein; I’m not swallowing something cursed.”

  “That’s perfectly fine,” I told her calmly. “No one has to.”

  Her eyes widened slightly, surprised by the lack of pushback.

  Mary cut in, voice thoughtful. “And the items? You mentioned those too.”

  “Right.”

  I opened my menu and projected a few examples.

  “Cursed items come in two versions: the normal magical one, expensive as hell, and the cursed one, which is literally ten times cheaper. Same benefits, smaller price… and a small curse tacked on.”

  That got everyone’s attention.

  I pointed to the cloak first.

  “This one increases mana regen and makes you harder to see in the dark. Curse: you feel a bit cold.”

  Someone muttered, “I already feel cold…”

  “That’s just one,” I said. “The shield gives minor magic resistance but causes ringing in your ears if hit. The mace makes spells stronger but is heavier than it should be. The grimoire improves spells but whispers sometimes. Annoying? Yes. Dangerous? Not really, especially if we have a way to counter the side effects later.”

  Tom exhaled sharply. “And you’re sure the cleanse applies to curses?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s a theory. But it’s consistent with the system descriptions.”

  Matthew pushed up his glasses. “Meaning it could work… or it could backfire.”

  “Everything here can backfire,” I said. “But the question is whether the potential reward is worth the risk.”

  Someone else snapped, “I’m not wearing a cursed cape just because it’s on discount!”

  “Then don’t,” I replied in a not confrontational manner. “This isn’t a demand. It’s just information so you can make your own decisions.”

  More people drifted closer now, drawn by the possibility or the fear.

  Rhea finally spoke, soft but clear. “And you’re going to test it?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I will. I’d rather risk a mild twitch than walk out there weak.”

  Tom gave a single approving nod. “If you don’t get possessed or explode, I might try one of the Strength potions.”

  “Observing first is wise,” Matthew added nervously. “Document the effects.”

  I nodded. “Exactly my point; this is an option, not a plan I’m forcing on anyone.”

  By now nearly a third of the group were close enough to hear.

  So I finished with a final suggestion:

  “But, if you want real certainty, we could pool points to buy a question for Aurelia. Ask her directly whether lesser curses get removed at the exit. If she says yes, even the weakest among us could gain five, ten, or maybe more stat points for practically a pittance. Endurance for the older folks, Strength for the frail, wisdom or intelligence for the spellcasters. It could help everyone survive.”

  The moment the idea of confirming the trick left my mouth, I saw a spark move through the crowd, hesitant at first, then catching like dry grass.

  The older folks reacted first.

  A thin man in his sixties straightened his back.

  “If there’s even a chance this works,” he said, “I want to know.”

  His friend, a stout grandmother with arms like she’d kneaded dough her whole life, nodded sharply.

  “If a little curse can give me knees again, sign me up.”

  Then the rogue kid, maybe fifteen, wiry, jittery, practically vibrating, stepped forward.

  “How many points?” he asked.

  His eyes glinted like a racoon who’d found a stash of shiny things.

  “I’ve got some to spare. If this works, I’m going to be a monster.”

  I smiled. “That’s the spirit.”

  “Don’t encourage him,” Mary murmured, though she was thinking about it too.

  I raised my voice just enough for the group to hear.

  “The more of us chip in, the cheaper it’ll be for everyone. If we convince enough people, no one will feel the hit.”

  We started asking around.

  Not pressuring, just explaining, answering questions, and reassuring everyone who needed it.

  Some needed convincing; some others were already eager. Some refused immediately.

  In the end, nearly everyone who was still in the room agreed.

  Only about half a dozen held out.

  That was fine.

  With so many contributing, the cost split beautifully.

  Twenty-six points each.

  Barely a dent.

  “Give it all to Matthew,” I said, before anyone could hand anything to me. “He’s the one keeping track of everything.”

  Matthew blinked as a flood of notifications filled his interface.

  “Uh... right. Yes. I’ll handle it.”

  He handled it beautifully.

  We formulated the question carefully:

  “Will lesser curses from permanent enhancement potions be cleansed when we exit the safe area?”

  Aurelia didn’t waste a second.

  “Yes.”

  Just that.

  Then she added:

  “Lesser curses from such potions will be removed upon leaving the safe area.

  However, this cleansing applies only once.

  Excessive consumption of the same potion strengthens the attached curse.

  If the curse evolves, it will no longer be cleansed.”

  The room erupted.

  Not with panic, but with excitement.

  Hope.

  The old man cracked his knuckles. “Well then. Time to drink my way back to forty.”

  The tough grandmother cackled. “Make mine two of Endurance and one of Vitality.”

  People rushed the shop interface.

  Points flew.

  Old backs straightened.

  Stiff joints loosened.

  Faces smoothed with newfound energy.

  One of the seniors stomped a foot, eyes wide.

  “I haven’t felt this good in years!”

  The rogue kid, Quinn, hopped in place like a caffeinated rabbit.

  “Oh hell yeah. I feel fast.”

  Dozens of voices thanked me.

  Some shook my hand.

  Someone clapped my shoulder.

  Some just smiled at me like I’d given them a future back.

  I tried to deflect most of it.

  “Just information,” I kept saying.

  “Just a loophole.”

  “Just doing what I had to.”

  And more importantly, their gratitude fed the curse just enough to loosen its grip.

  For the first time in here, I felt really free from the constant dread.

  So I made my own purchases quickly before the compulsion returned.

  One potion for each stat, Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom, Endurance, Vitality, Perception, Dexterity, Charisma, Agility, Constitution and Willpower.

  Just one of each. For now.

  Enough for a balanced push without triggering the curses evolution.

  Then the items.

  The mace was heavy, really really heavy. I wasn’t a weak man, but this would have been hard to swing even by a gym rat. It made me think that maybe I underestimated these curses; they were the weakest of the weak, but they were insidious anyway. Luckily I had the solution for the mace: more strength potions.

  After the mace I bought a grimoire.

  Not the whispering one I’d shown them earlier.

  A different one.

  Darker.

  Older.

  Its description alone felt… dangerous, especially for me.

  I didn’t equip it or bind it, whatever that is.

  Not yet. I was hoping to use it to evolve my trait; enhancing and resisting minor curses could help me develop my resistance to them.

  I slid the book into my backpack carefully, as if it might bite.

  Then I bought my last item, the cloak.

  A mage’s tool, elegant and practical.

  Manageable.

  Very manageable.

  I draped it over my shoulders.

  It settled around me like cool mist, humming faintly against my newly awakened senses.

  The world sharpened.

  Colours became nearly monochrome, the bright shirt of an old lady took on a strange shape as the flowers motif distorted into something far more sinister. It didn’t matter.

  Mana currents whispered to me now. It was worth it.

  Now for the real gambit: I took out the cursed potions.

  And drank them all.