The Limitless Curse (Rewrite taking over the original story)

Chapter: The Trickster's Call

Third-Person POV

The Underworld's twilight skies churned with an unnatural energy, a disturbance rippling across the realm like the calm before a storm. Deep within a hidden cavern, the god of mischief, Loki, stood before an ancient artifact pulsing with faint green light.

He wore his trademark smirk, one that spoke of amusement and malice in equal measure. His emerald cloak swirled around him as he gestured at the magical construct hovering before him—a swirling vortex of runes, shimmering with raw power.

Behind Loki, three shadowed figures moved through the cavern's faint light. These were not the cloaked pawns from before but something far more primal. Their presence exuded raw power, their forms shifting in and out of the shadows, offering only fleeting glimpses of their true nature.

A massive, wolf-like creature stepped partially into the light, its silver fur shimmering like liquid moonlight. Its eyes glowed a piercing red, filled with intelligence and malice.

"Fenrir," Loki said casually, not even looking back. "Impatient as ever. Don't worry, you'll have your fun soon enough."

The wolf growled low, a sound that echoed through the cavern like distant thunder.

On the opposite side, a colossal serpentine form coiled in the shadows, its scales glinting faintly with iridescent colors. Jormungandr's glowing yellow eyes peered out, unblinking, as if it were studying the artifact—or Loki himself.

"And you," Loki continued, his tone amused. "Always watching, always calculating. Don't worry, my dear serpent. Your time will come too."

The third figure, draped in darkness, stepped forward slightly. A feminine figure with an aura as cold as death itself, she carried an air of quiet authority that even Loki seemed to acknowledge.

"Hel," Loki said with a grin. "No sharp words for me today? You're awfully quiet."

The woman's voice was soft yet commanding. "Your games will attract attention, Father. The devils will not stand idly by."

"That's the point, my dear," Loki replied, his grin widening. "Let them come. Let them bring their champions and their young warriors. I want to see how far they've come."

"And the boy?" Hel asked, her tone betraying a flicker of curiosity. "Y/n. He is not one of theirs, and yet he stands apart. An anomaly."

Loki's smirk didn't falter, but his eyes glinted with something sharper—interest. "Ah, yes. The enigma. He's fascinating, isn't he? A wildcard in a world that so desperately clings to its order. I wonder... will he be their salvation? Or their undoing?"

Jormungandr let out a low hiss, its coils shifting restlessly.

Fenrir's growl deepened, its massive frame tensing.

Loki chuckled. "Patience, my children. For now, we sow chaos. But soon..." His voice trailed off as he turned back to the artifact, tracing a rune in the air. "Soon, they'll see what happens when they play in the domain of a god."

Scene Change – ORC Clubroom

The atmosphere in the Gremory mansion was tense. The members of the Occult Research Club had gathered in their usual spot, but the weight of the recent events hung heavy in the air.

Koneko sat on the couch, her expression unreadable but her ears twitching occasionally—a rare tell of her unease. Xenovia leaned against the wall, her sword resting beside her, as if ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Gasper sat nervously in the corner, his crimson eyes darting between his friends, seeking reassurance.