Fangs and Fury : Dual System of the Godslayer RV

 Terry's footsteps echoed dully in the jagged canyons of the Deadworld as he and Curl trudged through the hostile terrain. The sky was its usual ashen gray, choked with swirling clouds that refused to part for even a sliver of light. His body ached under the oppressive weight of servitude, but Curl moved with purpose, her dark hair pulled back, her eyes fixed on the horizon. 

"You sure about this Mr. Shade guy?" Terry asked, breaking the tense silence. They had both been sent by Mr Wesdon to deliver a message to Mr Shade. 

Curl shot him a glance, her expression unreadable. "It's not about being sure. It's about obeying." 

Terry's gut churned at her words. He hated the way she said it—detached, as though there was no choice but to comply with Wesdon's demands. 

"What even is he? Another werewolf?" 

"Yes," Curl replied, her voice soft but steady. "But he's… different. Wesdon will not need to explain, because we do deliver messages to him but rare. If he wants us to find Mr. Shade, we'll do it." 

"And if we don't?" 

Curl didn't answer. 

Terry sighed, glancing at the glowing blue screen hovering in his peripheral vision. 

[ SLAVE SYSTEM ]

**Name**: Cunis Vod 

**Status**: Slave 

**Owner**: Wesdon (Tier 2 Slave Master) 

**Rank**: E-Class Slave 

**System Abilities Unlocked**: 5%

**Primary Ability**: *Flame Aura* (*Cursed*) 

The word *Cursed* burned like an accusation. After their mission had been assigned, Terry's system had revealed the curse—a limitation that rendered his newly unlocked Flame Aura ability useless. The notification had chilled him to the core, a cruel twist that only deepened his sense of helplessness. 

"How long have you had your system?" Terry asked, trying to distract himself from his frustration. 

"Since I arrived," Curl said. "We all get one, but they vary. Mine's leveled up to fourteen." 

"Fourteen?" Terry said, his eyes widening. 

Curl nodded. "The higher your level, the more abilities you unlock. I've got *Speed Surge*—makes me fast enough to outrun most creatures here." 

"Must be nice," Terry muttered, staring down at his hands. "Meanwhile, I can't even use the one ability I've unlocked." 

Curl hesitated, her gaze softening slightly. "The curse is rare. I've only heard of a few slaves who got stuck with it. It's not your fault." 

"It might as well be," Terry said bitterly. 

Their conversation was cut short by the distant sound of scuttling. Curl stopped abruptly, her body tensing. 

"What is it?" Terry asked, his voice low. 

"Goblins," Curl whispered, her hand moving to the crude dagger strapped to her side. "They hunt in packs. Fast and vicious." 

Terry's heart raced as he scanned the rocky terrain. The scuttling grew louder, echoing eerily in the canyon.

"There!" Curl hissed, pointing to a cluster of shadows darting between the rocks. 

The goblins emerged moments later, their small, wiry frames covered in dark, leathery skin. Their glowing yellow eyes gleamed with malice, and their jagged teeth were bared in grotesque grins. 

There were six of them. 

"Stay close," Curl said, her voice tight. "And don't try to be a hero." 

Terry nodded, gripping a rusted metal rod he'd found earlier. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. 

The goblins didn't waste time. With shrill screeches, they charged, their clawed hands and crude weapons gleaming in the dim light. 

Curl moved first, her *Speed Surge* activating in a blur of motion. She darted past the nearest goblin, her dagger slicing through its neck in a single fluid motion. Blood sprayed across the rocks, and the creature collapsed with a gurgling cry. 

Terry swung his makeshift weapon at another goblin, but it ducked nimbly, slashing at his side with a serrated blade. He stumbled back, clutching his bleeding ribs. 

"Damn it!" he cursed, his mind screaming for his system to activate. The words *Flame Aura* burned in his mind, but the cursed status rendered the ability inert. 

"Focus!" Curl shouted, cutting down a second goblin. 

Another goblin lunged at Terry, its claws aiming for his throat. He barely managed to block with his rod, the impact rattling his arms. 

Curl's speed was a blur again as she dispatched a third goblin, her movements precise and deadly. She turned toward Terry, her eyes narrowing as she saw him struggling. 

"Get down!" she yelled. 

Terry dropped instinctively as Curl raced past him, slamming her dagger into the goblin's chest. The creature shrieked before collapsing into a heap.

The remaining goblins hesitated, their eyes darting between Terry and Curl. One of them let out a high-pitched howl, and more scuttling echoed in the distance. 

"They're calling for reinforcements!" Curl snapped. "We need to finish this now." 

Terry gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. "I need to fight!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the ground. 

The system's voice chimed coldly in his mind: **Ability: Flame Aura is cursed. Activation denied.** 

Curl didn't waste time arguing. She lunged at another goblin, her dagger flashing. The creature dodged, its claws swiping at her, but she was too fast. Her blade found its mark, and the goblin crumpled to the ground. 

Terry struggled to his feet, adrenaline dulling the pain in his ribs. The two remaining goblins snarled, one of them charging straight at him. 

"Come on, then!" Terry shouted, raising his rod. 

The goblin leaped, its claws outstretched. Terry swung with all his might, the rod connecting with the side of its head. The creature yelped and fell, but it wasn't dead. It scrambled to its feet, its yellow eyes blazing with fury. 

Before it could attack again, Curl appeared behind it, her dagger plunging into its back. The goblin screeched before collapsing into a lifeless heap. 

The final goblin let out a shriek of defiance before turning and fleeing into the shadows. 

Curl didn't pursue. She stood over the pile of goblin corpses, her chest heaving as she wiped blood from her dagger. 

"You okay?" she asked, turning to Terry. 

Terry nodded, though his entire body ached. "Thanks to you." 

Curl frowned. "You need to figure out that system of yours, Terry. If we face anything stronger than this, I can't protect you." 

Terry's jaw tightened, her words stinging despite their truth. He stared at the corpses, anger and frustration roiling within him. 

"I didn't ask for this," he said quietly. 

"None of us did," Curl replied. "But if you don't adapt, you won't survive." 

Terry didn't respond. The cursed label on his system screen seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his weakness. 

The distant sound of scuttling broke the silence, and Curl tensed. 

"They'll be back," she said. "We need to move." 

Terry followed her as they left the battlefield, his mind racing. The fight had revealed more than just his own limitations—it had shown him the stakes of the Deadworld. Curl was right. If he didn't figure out a way to overcome his curse, he wouldn't last long. 

As they continued toward their destination, Terry vowed to find answers. If his system was cursed, there had to be a reason—and a way to break it. 

For now, survival was all that mattered. 

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