Blood used as ink formed sinister demonic symbols, then formulas, and finally a cursed diagram of three dots.

The irises of Mart's eyes had turned red as blood, as had his hair.

Mart's gaze was filled with evil.

He smiled as he placed the demonic stone containing the Herald's residual energy on the fatigue point in the cursed diagram.

The cursed diagram remained active until it consumed all the cursed energy that Mart had infused into it.

When the cursed energy in the diagram was completely consumed, the Fertzal paper sheets turned to dust and dirt.

As he used the cursed energy, Mart could still hear the hundreds and hundreds of whispers of resentment, hatred, bitterness, and envy.

Mart suppressed the cursed energy, and the irises of his eyes regained their beautiful blue color, and his hair regained its natural color.

••••

"It's sad, it's sad, I won't be able to perform again? One day it's fatigue, another day it's pain, with no right to choose; it's sad, it's sad," said the Herald as he walked along wearing a brown tunic and hood of the same color.

The Herald walked along a lonely road, surrounded only by red earth and stones. In the distance, there were two mountains, one green and the other black.

"I didn't want to come back, I didn't want this, fate is sad, sometimes it forces us to do things we don't want to do," thought the Herald, his breathing heavy as if he were a person in poor physical condition.

Two bony beings with dark gray skin, completely black eyes, and elongated limbs wore only red cloths to cover their groins.

The beings opened their mouths, revealing sharp fangs, and their reddish breath was visible.

"Go ahead!" both beings said in a sinister voice that reached the Herald's demonic core.

"It's sad to be weak. What am I supposed to do if those two beings decide to attack me?" thought the Herald.

The sinister-looking beings accompanied him to a place between the two mountains where there was a mansion.

Then they sat down in a meditative position, closed their eyes, and remained motionless.

The door of the mansion opened by itself.

"Come in, Herald, I am glad to see you again," said a solemn voice that the Herald recognized instantly.

"Mr. Cabrat Vercen, I am sad to see you again," said the Herald, walking into the mansion.

••••

Mart was lying in bed, next to him was a book he had been reading, which was one of the assigned readings for the final exams.

Bang!

The stone with the Herald's energy exploded.

"Your toy found help," said the entity with the female voice that had not manifested itself in a long time.

"I'm not surprised. It must be that old goat-horned demon," replied Mart, who then felt as if his demonic core was being touched with just enough pressure not to destroy it.

Despite the threat, Mart remained impassive, having experienced worse pain with the memory in which the true Mart's existence disappeared.

"You don't fear me? Not even a little?" asked the entity.

"No, on the contrary, I am grateful to you for what you did in the past. It was you who lent me your strength that time," said Mart, remembering the time he had become the vessel of a curse.

"Become strong, and fulfill what you swore to me," said the entity's voice, suddenly disappearing in the same way it had appeared.

"That warlock is definitely powerful. Someday I'll have to face him," Mart sighed and closed his eyes to rest for a while.

••••

A few days later.

Arian waved a branch every time the breeze blew. If a leaf fell, he tried to cut it in two using the little mana he could infuse into the branch.

Arian had devoted weeks and weeks to his disciplined routine.

Not because he was indifferent to people or life.

It was because it seemed that life and most people viewed him with indifference.

Leaves didn't always fall from the trees when the breeze blew, so he took advantage of every time a leaf fell.

Even though the trees were scattered, he ran toward the falling leaves and kept trying to cut them.

A leaf falls.

Arian swung the branch and only hit the leaf, sending it to the ground.

There were dozens and dozens of attempts, but he did not give up.

Time passed.

A leaf fell.

Arian felt his mana slightly covering the branch and imagined the edge of a sword.

Cut!

The leaf was cut evenly in two.

"After several weeks, I made progress; now I must not forget what I just did, I must repeat it over and over again," Arian thought, encouraging himself.

When the sky was light and dark, Arian said goodbye to the fish in the crystal-clear pond.

Then Arian ran around the orphanage exercising until it was time for dinner.

In recent weeks, the younger children watched silently as Arian trained.

••••

After dinner, Arian went to the orphanage director's office.

When he arrived, he saw the man with a somber face, short dull brown hair, who always wore black robes.

"Director Stevenson. Did you call me?" Arian asked with genuine respect.

Director Stevenson was a quiet and simple man, but he always ensured that there was order in the orphanage, and one of his rules was: "Nothing should go from words to actions if those actions are negative."

The director placed a brown bag on the desk, which was closed with silver thread.

"As you know your situation, the Alexandrian Academy has sent an incentive," said Director Stevenson.

"That's a lie, no one would help for free," thought Arian. He knew very well that no matter how bad the books in the orphanage library were, some of them had been obtained by the director.

"Thank you, Director Stevenson. Someday I'll pay you back for this and more," declared Arian.

He knew that his life had not been miserable thanks to the philosophy of order with which Director Stevenson ran the orphanage.

"Go study and make sure you get some sleep," ordered the director, opening a book to begin reading.

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