Chapter 4
Cursed and blessed speech
That's insane!!" I shouted, gripping the old book tighter, still trying to wrap my brain around the concept of infinite Paths.
"Don't get too excited," the boss said, giving me a pointed look like he'd seen this kind of excitement crash and burn before.
"Why not?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't this, like, good news?"
"Theoretically, sure," he said, scratching his patchy beard. "But practically? It's damn near impossible."
"…Huh?"
He sighed and launched into the kind of explanation that makes your head itch from the inside out.
"Let's say you wanted to walk a Path called The Completely Overpowered and Undefeatable Path. Sounds nice, yeah? Problem is, to even begin that Path, you'd have to understand what it means to be undefeatable. Not just imagine it—know it."
He gave me a look.
"But how can someone who's been beaten, bruised, and spat on by life ever truly grasp that? You think you know what it means to be unstoppable, but your understanding is based on not being it. You've never stood alone against the world and watched it kneel. You don't have the foundation to even take the first step."
"…So what, it's a dead dream?"
"It's called a dead start," he said, nodding. "A concept that collapses under its own weight because the mind can't truly conceive it. If you can't grasp the root of a Path with your soul, your heart, and your thoughts—it won't open to you. Simple as that."
I rubbed my temples, feeling like my brain just got a wedgie.
But somehow, I understood what he meant. It was like trying to build a house with no ground to build it on. Infinite possibilities… sure. But your own mind was the lock and the key.
And some locks just aren't meant to open.
I looked back down at the book in my hands. The words were faded, but they felt heavy, like the pages carried weight not even gravity could explain.
Cursed and Blessed Speech.
A Path built on the power of words—spoken intent made manifest. That… that felt real. Something I could maybe understand.
Because if there's one thing I've always known how to do, it's run my damn mouth.
"In fact, that book you're holding?" The boss leaned in, voice dropping low. "That's what we call a dead path."
"Dead path?" I echoed, blinking. "What the hell does that mean?"
He shrugged like it was obvious. "Dead paths are tricky. At first, there's a lot of potential. You can feel it—that spark of understanding. You even start thinking of ways to develop it further. But then… one day, it hits you. There's nothing new left to grasp. No deeper truth to unlock. You hit a ceiling. And you're stuck there, spinning your wheels."
He glanced at the book in my hand. "This one, from what I remember, suffers from a serious lack of offensive power early on. It drains your mana core like a thirsty leech. It's tough to grow, not the absolute hardest path out there, but close enough that almost no one sticks with it."
I didn't say a word. My mind fell quiet. The book felt heavier now, more like a challenge than just a dusty old thing.
And deep in the dark pools of my eyes, a tiny spark of interest flickered to life.
The boss gave me a sideways look, clearly unimpressed.
"Lad, I'd recommend you put that book down. Don't even know why it's in the pile. Even though you lot are basically cannon fodder anyway—they could've thrown in something a bit better."
I caught the slight confusion flicker across his face, like even he wasn't sure why the book was there.
Meanwhile, in my head, the gears were turning.
Hmm... Isn't it usually the case when you isekai, you get some kind of flashy system? Something that sets you apart? But so far, nothing. At least, nothing obvious.
Maybe this was the world's way of pushing me—like a sign—to take this weird, almost forgotten path. It ticked all the boxes of some mysterious route nobody dared to walk... but that also supposedly held insane potential.
But what if it's a trap?
After all, tons of geniuses had probably looked at this path, and not a single one had figured out how to take it further. Maybe no one was interested in something as weird as Cursed and Blessed Speech.
"Lad, you gonna daydream all day or what?!" the boss snapped, pulling me back.
"Huh? Uh... I'll... take this one."
He raised the eyebrow over his missing eye. "You sure about that?"
I swallowed hard. "...Yes."
The boss locked eyes with me—his one good eye glaring menacingly deep into my dark brown ones—then just shrugged like it was all a lost cause.
"Take it."
"Wait, really?"
"Take it with you. No one else is stupid enough to grab a dead path anyway."
One of the other volunteers scoffed loudly, clearly thinking it was unfair. His protest was cut short by the boss's fierce reply:
"You're a fucking slug for brains if you think you'd take a dead path that's worth ten bronze coins."
"Alright, since you already paid the silver for this, you're free to fuck off," the boss said, coughing roughly to cover the awkwardness.
I let out a heavy sigh of relief, glad I didn't owe anything else for this strange, grim "service." I hurried away, only to catch the middle-aged man at the door shaking his head at me once more.
..........
After the last of the volunteers had finally shuffled out—still trying to wrap their heads around the books they'd picked—the middle-aged man climbed the stairs to the boss with a scowl of pure disgust.
"What a bunch of fools. Do they think war's some kind of joke?"
The boss let out a loud, cackling laugh.
"Well, what else would you expect from them? They didn't even realize they'd been scammed."
And indeed, they had.
If excited IAM had paused to think, he'd have noticed just how sketchy the whole enlistment process was. Direct access to the military through some backdoor? Even as part of the biggest gang around, it should've raised red flags.
This was still the slums.
The boss was actually approached by a military contact, but he was only given 30 books to lend out to fit men and women willing to enlist—and he'd get rewarded with a single silver coin for his efforts.
But after the military man left, the boss cooked up a little scheme. He baited people, claiming this was some rare golden opportunity—available only if they paid a silver coin each.
In the end, he hooked five poor souls and pocketed five silver coins. That sneaky little hustle earned him way more than he was promised.
But the boss wasn't about to burn bridges with his military contact. No way. He planned to play it cool—once those five fools left the slums and headed to the meeting point, he'd send the rest for free.
That way, he'd still fulfill his quota and rake in a ton of extra silver all at once.
It was a slick, cunning move—but hey, this was exactly what you'd expect from the leader of the biggest gang in the slums.
As for IAM and the others? They wouldn't realize they'd been played until it was far too late.
........
After hours of wandering, IAM finally stumbled back home, collapsing face-first onto the bed. Exhausted but restless, he looked forward to the morning—when he would finally open that book and unlock the secrets of the Cursed and Blessed Speech.
Little did he know, he would soon regret ever opening that damned tome...
Regret ever being dragged into this world...
Regret this dark, suffocating hell he was already trapped inside...
There was no escape.
Only regret.
Regret.
Regret...