The Deadly Charm

Part 38 : The Game of Two Gods

Eternal Punishment

The night was deathly still. No light touched the luxury high-rise where Kanrawee lay asleep, the silence so deep it was as though the world itself held its breath. A chill, unnatural and biting, seeped into every corner of her bedroom, as if something sinister had begun to awaken.

Kanrawee slept soundly, unbothered and serene in her plush bed. Since the ritual—since she'd ordered that cursed buffalo hide to be implanted into Nattarinee—everything had gone exactly as planned. She dreamed of a future where Teerathep would return to her, unaware that her fantasies teetered on the edge of ruin.

Outside her window, suspended in midair, two figures hovered like celestial shadows.

"She sleeps," Aria said coldly, her crimson eyes fixed on the woman below.

"What do you want to do with her?" Sora asked, a cruel smirk curling his lips.

"She deserves no mercy," he added, eyes narrowing. "I'll handle her."

"Good. As for that sorcerer... he's mine," Aria replied, her gaze glowing with ancient fury. Her voice was low, laced with venom and divine judgment.

Sora nodded silently. Aria offered a faint smile before vanishing into the night, leaving Sora alone above the glittering city.

Inside, Kanrawee stirred.

It began as a strange pressure in her abdomen—subtle, ignorable. But it grew. Expanded. Became something monstrous.

Her body twisted as pain exploded through her stomach. Panic overtook her serenity, her breaths shortening, erratic. She clutched her belly, now distended, bulging unnaturally.

"No... this isn't supposed to happen..." she whispered, trembling.

Something was moving inside her. Something alive.

She tried to sit up, but every movement sent a new wave of agony tearing through her. Veins pulsed and swelled beneath her skin. Her eyes widened in sheer horror as the pain sharpened—piercing, cutting, like thousands of blades stabbing from within.

"Stop... please...!" she screamed, but no one heard. No one came.

And then she saw it.

A hallucination? Or a cruel truth? She didn't know. But in her mind's eye, she saw it—the cursed buffalo hide she had condemned Nattarinee with—twisting, writhing inside her own body now.

It wanted out. It clawed at her from within.

Blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. Her breaths became wheezing gasps. Her eyes, once full of ambition and obsession, burned red with burst vessels. Her body, once elegant, twisted and distorted—a grotesque mockery of the woman she once was.

But the torment was far from over.

In the corner of the room, a light began to form.

White, pure—and merciless.

Sora stepped forward from the glow, radiating divine energy. The Guardian Deity of Light had arrived—not to save her, but to seal her fate.

"You will not escape the consequences of your sins," he said coldly.

His hand raised, channeling blinding energy that formed a radiant shield around Kanrawee. But this light wasn't healing. It was imprisonment. Condemnation.

"This light will bind the cursed hide within you. You will suffer with it for the rest of your life."

The shield tightened, compressing around her. The cursed hide writhed within her but could no longer escape. It was sealed inside her flesh—eternal torment made flesh.

She screamed.

Her cries echoed through the darkness, unanswered. The light did not soothe. It burned. Not her skin—but her spirit. Her sanity.

And still Sora watched—silent, detached.

Her once-bright eyes filled only with terror and despair. Her beauty crumbled, overtaken by the horror she had unleashed upon herself.

This was her punishment. And it would never end.

With one final glance, Sora vanished, leaving behind only the divine shield and a woman who would never know peace again.

The Wrath of the Dark Goddess

Far from the city, in a remote forest shrouded in silence, the hut of Kamdam, the black shaman, stood tall. It had long been a sanctuary of dark energy—a place where rituals were cast, lives cursed, and souls traded.

Tonight, it would become his tomb.

The sky above was starless. In the darkness, she emerged.

Aria, the Goddess of Wrath and Darkness, stepped from the shadows. Her form glowed with a dark, ethereal shimmer. Every footstep trembled the earth. Her crimson eyes blazed with fury unbound. Her presence alone was an omen.

She had come for vengeance.

She had seen the pain inflicted on Nattarinee. She had watched the cursed ritual tear through a soul that never deserved such suffering.

Kamdam had crossed a line no mortal should cross.

As she approached the hut, the atmosphere shifted. Even the darkness recoiled. The trees around her bent under the weight of her power.

The door opened on its own, sensing divinity.

Inside, Kamdam sat, surrounded by talismans and shadows. He chuckled, his lips twisted in arrogance.

"I knew you'd come," he sneered. "But it's too late. My magic cannot be undone."

Aria said nothing. Her eyes narrowed. She raised her hand.

In an instant, her power surged.

The black light she summoned was not of this world. It pulsed, expanded, consumed. It wasn't a blast. It was annihilation.

Kamdam tried to chant, to cast protection. But his voice faltered. The power of a god was beyond his reach.

"You're a fool," Aria murmured, voice like a blade through silence.

And then—she released it.

A wave of dark light exploded outward. Everything it touched withered, crumbled. Kamdam's body contorted as screams ripped from his throat—inhuman, agonized.

The magic he had wielded so confidently now turned on him. He was devoured—cell by cell. His screams echoed like the tortured cries of every soul he had ever cursed.

And Aria watched. Cold. Unflinching.

She didn't rejoice. She didn't rage.

She judged.

And the verdict was death.

When it was done, there was nothing left. Not Kamdam. Not his magic. Not his hut. Only scorched earth and silence.

Aria turned and walked away.

No more curses would be cast here. No more darkness would rise.

The punishment had been served.
And the gods had spoken.