The First Catch - Chapter 10
Ren had outgrown his apartment.
Not emotionally—physically.
The cracked walls, dented floors, and mounting spiritual residue were turning the space into something closer to a haunted box than a home. He was starting to notice cursed energy lingering in the crevices, the way mold might cling to damp stone. He had pushed the room too far. His cursed energy polluted it with every failed vow and chaotic surge.
Inside now, Ren trained only one thing: control.
Precision over power. Finesse over force. He would sit cross-legged for hours, guiding cursed energy from fingertip to fingertip in endless, focused loops. It reminded him of trying to balance a needle on a marble while blindfolded. Still, little by little, it was working.
But power?
Power needed space.
And so, he went outside.
Back to the shrine.
---
It stood in the woods like a forgotten god.
The grass had grown tall around the stairs, now golden in the late summer sun. Trees hung over the path like silent watchers, and cicadas hummed from somewhere deep in the green.
It was peaceful.
And completely abandoned.
Ren stretched in the clearing just below the steps, rolling his neck and cracking his knuckles. His body still ached from the binding vow he'd made three days ago—the cursed energy sensitivity experiment that had nearly broken him—but the pain had taught him more than a hundred pages of the manga ever had.
He was learning.
He wasn't strong.
Not yet.
But he was learning.
He began with drills—his new ritual.
Flow cursed energy through his shoulder, elbow, wrist, and fist in rhythm with his breath.
One step forward. Punch.
Two steps back. Kick.
He didn't try to channel energy through his legs yet—too complex—but his arms? He was getting the hang of them.
Every punch carried just a little more intent than before.
---
After about forty minutes, he paused to drink water, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.
That was when he felt it.
A tickle across the skin of his forearm. A strange, oily static against his cursed energy field.
His entire body tensed.
He knew what it was.
A curse.
His first real one.
---
It hovered to his left, just between two trees. Small, maybe the size of a dog. Its body was insectoid—like an ant crossed with a spider, with an awful humanoid face stretched over its head. It had translucent wings that buzzed softly and too many legs, all twitching.
Its eyes locked with Ren's for a moment.
It didn't move.
Neither did he.
Then it flew in a slow circle, lazily drifting toward him, completely unaware that it was already doomed.
A low-grade. Definitely.
Ren didn't sense killing intent. No intelligence either. Just base instinct.
He had found the perfect test subject.
A smile curled across his lips.
---
He whispered the words softly:
"One Fist. One Minute."
A vow based on his original "boosted output" but redesigned with surgical logic.
"For the next one minute, my cursed energy output will be enhanced—but only in my right fist. My overall cursed energy consumption will double. I cannot break the vow early or I will suffer backlash."
The binding vow hit his chest like a drop in gravity.
His right fist lit up immediately—surging with power.
More focused than ever before.
More intense.
He felt the output refine itself. The curse energy became hotter, denser, pulsing like magma just beneath the skin of his knuckles.
And because the vow restricted the boost to a single limb, the energy consumption was more manageable—even as the strength increased dramatically.
His grin widened.
Smarter. Better. Controlled.
The curse took a lazy loop in the air, just a meter from him now, unaware of the predator standing below it.
Ren stepped forward and snatched it from the air in a single, swift motion.
Its wings buzzed violently as it squealed in confusion. Its legs kicked at his forearm, doing no damage. It wriggled, hissed, its voice like wet leaves being torn.
He squeezed.
Just enough to make it stop moving.
He could crush it.
Right now.
End it with a flick of his wrist.
But he didn't.
Instead, he studied it.
Up close, its body was disgusting—coated in a thin, oily sheen, its eyes empty and its jaw trembling mindlessly.
A typical low-grade born of filth and fear.
Weak.
But useful.
Very useful.
"Maybe you'll be the one," Ren whispered. "My test subject. My familiar."
He looked down at the thing in his hand.
So many thoughts ran through his head.
Could he trap it?
Bargain with it?
Bind it?
Could he use it like Yuta used Rika?
Could he build his own trick? His own weapon?
He loosened his grip slightly.
The curse buzzed once, like it knew better than to struggle now.
"Let's see what you can teach me," Ren said.
And for the first time since waking up in this cursed world, Ren Sato laughed—deeply, freely.
Not in relief.
Not in fear.
But in genuine anticipation.