The Strongest Curse Master

"What was that?" Delores asked, passing Ace the Rail Rifle. At the same time, Ace asked, "Who was that?"

"That’s just some random asshole you need to stay away fr—"

Before she could finish, the rail rifle vanished before her finger’s left it and Ace could grasp it. A voice awakened them from their shock, "Random asshole? I’m hurt, Delores. I thought I was your favorite."

A tall man in a crisp, dark suit hovered a foot away from them. Neither of them had noticed his presence until he spoke. Ace’s eyes widened in recognition—this was the same man who had decapitated the earthbound void-tier curseling.

The man casually turned the rail rifle over in his hands, inspecting it without a care for their permission. He gave it a few experimental motions, but when the weapon remained unresponsive, he lost interest. Ignoring their stunned expressions, he mused aloud, "Is this one of my niece’s creations? She’s getting very good at these. So tell me—why don’t I see her offering such curse tools in her monthly quota? Don’t tell me she’s cheating her own family?"

Ace bristled and leaned forward, extending his arm to take back the rifle, "Hey—"

Before he could demand the rifle back, Delores’ palm clamped over his mouth and other his extending hand. Her grip was firm, her body tense as if she was scared of this man. Ace could feel it in the way she subtly shifted her stance into a defensive one—genuinely scared of what he would do if displeasured. Not to her but to him.

Even her voice was careful and measured as she answered, "It’s not one of Janice’s creations. It’s just the scope. The rifle belongs to the boy. If you’re done, return it to him."

Ace’s eyes widened as he realized Delores had let the man get away with calling Janice a cheat. That wasn’t like her. It hit him then—Delores wasn’t just wary of this man’s strength; she was helpless against his status.

She never reacted like this when he offended the likes of Matthews or Cyclops. This guy was different. He had to be high up in the McSuile family hierarchy—probably an elder. The way he carried himself, like he owned Janice and Delores, only confirmed it.

The man still didn’t return the rifle. Instead, his sharp gaze landed on Ace, making him tense. Delores took that as her cue to elaborate, "He bought the scope from her for a high price. So, the rifle, along with the scope, legally and rightfully belongs to him."

The tall man listened carefully, his expression unreadable. He took in Delores’s measured tone and the way she positioned herself, arms around Ace, burying him in her embrace as if shielding him. That piqued his curiosity.

"Who is he?" he asked, studying Ace with newfound interest.

Delores didn’t like that shift in attention one bit. Her voice grew firmer as she demanded, "He doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the rifle belongs to him. If you return it along with Elinor’s curse core, we’ll be on our way."

The man’s lips curled slightly, amused. Shaking his head, he corrected, "Aren’t you forgetting something? The one who lands the killing blow keeps the loot. If Elinor wants her share, she can come find me." Enjoy exclusive adventures from NovelBin.Côm

His tone was final. He showed no intention of giving back the rifle.

Delores’s frown deepened, but before she could say anything, Ace struggled harder against her grip, his muffled protests growing louder. She could feel the frustration radiating off him.

She clenched her jaw and tightened her hold over his mouth, knowing that letting him speak would only make things worse.

"Why don’t you let him speak?" the tall man asked, his gaze flicking between Delores and Ace. With a firm and commanding tone, Delores immediately replied, "Just give back his rifle so we can be out of here."

Her protectiveness toward Ace only deepened the man’s curiosity. She knew it too, but there was no other choice—if she let Ace run his mouth, he’d get himself killed for sure.

Matthews had been right about the McSuile family. Among the curse community in the mortal world, they were the most lawless, the most overbearing. They acted as if they were above the law, and frankly, they weren’t wrong. With their influence and military strength, they practically were.

Under normal circumstances, such arrogance would have been dealt with swiftly by the government. But the patriarch of the Matthews family had too many powerful friends—some of them in unsettlingly high places. He personally knew all the presidents sworn in since the government was established, including the three different presidents that had taken office during his absence in the past decades.

As long as the McSuile patriarch was around, anything short of treason would be forgiven with a single word. And in his absence? That same privilege extended to his children.

That meant one thing—Ace could offend the C.I.B. if he was feeling reckless. But the McSuile family? That was a death wish.

The tall man did not seem to like Delores’s secrecy but also did not push the latter. However, he did not forget to assert his power. His voice cut through the tension as he informed her, "Tell Janice her quota is doubled this month for the stunt she pulled."

With that, he finally tossed the rail rifle back to Ace. Then, as if just remembering something, he glanced around and asked, almost hesitantly, "Where is Elinor?"

Ace caught the rifle and immediately stored it away. This made the man raise an eyebrow in surprise, but after a beat, he seemed to brush it off. If Ace could afford one of his niece’s creations, then maybe it wasn’t all that surprising that he possessed a storage-type curse tool.

"How the hell am I supposed to know that? You’re her father—isn’t it your job to keep track of where she is and what she’s up to?" Delores shot back, frustration bleeding into her tone. She wasn’t just questioning him—she was calling him out for his parenting style. She did not like it one bit.

Ace’s eyes widened. Elinor’s father? That caught him off guard. He studied the man again, but there was no resemblance between him and Elinor whatsoever, be it appearance-wise or demeanor-wise.

The tall man’s expression darkened instantly. His voice turned cold and oppressive as he warned her, "Don’t make me repeat myself."

Before Delores could speak, a mechanical voice cut through, "The Void-tier curse core has my share too. I risked my life to infect Curseling with Elinor’s curse."

Listening to it, Delores’s body went rigid. Her blood ran cold. Slowly, her gaze dropped to Ace’s hand to find that he was typing on his smartphone; he wasn’t done.