Surprise!

I think I'm cursed.

It's the only logical explanation for what keeps happening to me.

I've met a being from beyond the Veil. I've encountered Leon Bell, created Cabel and Abby, and fought countless monsters, and now as if the world were mocking me.

A dragon.

At least, I think it's a dragon.

Dragons are powerful and mysterious creatures, with a wide array of abilities that make them forces of nature.

Of course, they're still bound to the Dragon pathway, but their Orders can vary greatly.

Like the beastmen, dragons can shift between their humanoid and true forms.

Judging by the aura radiating from the man sitting before me, as well as his appearance, I was certain this was no ordinary person.

The man had long, grey hair and dusky, grey-brown skin.

He wore black robes and loose pants, with a flat straw hat perched atop his head.

Everything about him screamed "wandering swordsman," an impression reinforced by the katana hanging at his side.

Despite his somber attire, there was an unearthly allure to him. He looked young, though his eyes betrayed the weight of centuries.

"You there," he called out in a deep, resonant voice, "have you gotten lost?"

I glanced behind me to see Rosaline, her nose buried in one of the books I'd given her, entirely oblivious to the encounter.

"Um... no," I replied hesitantly.

The man gave me a quizzical look, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Don't you feel the pressure beyond this place? It's not fit for someone of your... caliber. Turn back."

I chuckled awkwardly, unsure whether to feel insulted or amused.

From behind, Rosaline's voice piped up, dripping with sarcasm. "Weak much?"

I glanced back at her, still sitting cross-legged in the cart, flipping a page as if the world wasn't brimming with danger.

"I'm fairly certain I'm capable," I said, forcing confidence into my voice.

The man stepped closer, leaning into my space. His piercing eyes studied my face for a moment, as though trying to unravel a mystery hidden beneath my skin.

"No," he said with a dismissive tone, "you're definitely weak. Have you even grazed the second stage?"

Ah, this bastard. He was calling me weak far too often for my liking. Considering I'd only been training for four months, I thought I was doing remarkably well.

"I assure you," I said through gritted teeth, "I'm capable. Now, please, kindly move."

He tilted his head, an infuriating mixture of pity, anger, and reluctant acceptance flashing across his face.

"Well, I warned you," he said with a sigh. "I really do hate seeing people die."

I braced myself, expecting an attack, but instead, he simply walked past us, shaking his head in disappointment.

That's when I saw the mark on his back.

A sigil, faintly glowing on his robes: an eye pierced by a sword, wrapped in cloth.

My blood ran cold. I recognized it immediately.

The mark of the Dark Seekers.

In the novel, they were a secretive and deadly faction, rarely mentioned except as warnings.

Anyone bearing that sigil was someone to fear or, if you were capable, to kill.

I held my breath, trying to gauge his strength.

He was powerful. Stronger than Daniel, but not by an insurmountable margin.

If I pushed myself, using the Dormant Edge at eleven percent of its capacity, I might be able to take him down.

But was it worth the risk?

The man stopped a few paces away, turning his head slightly as though he knew what I was thinking. His lips curled into a faint smile.

"Don't let your arrogance be the death of you," he said before continuing down the path, his figure disappearing into the distance.

I let out a long, measured exhale.

From the cart, Rosaline finally looked up. "What's with the face? Who was that guy?"

"Someone best left alone," I muttered, my eyes lingering on the road where he'd vanished.

The mountains loomed closer, and I felt a flicker of unease for the first time in hours.

Dragons. Dark Seekers.

Cursed?

No, cursed didn't quite cover it. This was something far worse.

It felt as though someone was writing a narrative purely to get me killed, with just enough plot armor to keep me alive. A truly perplexing situation.

As I continued pulling the cart, a realization struck me that man, I know him.

With each step I took, an overwhelming drowsiness crept over me, as if the ground itself was draining my energy.

The cold chill running down my spine solidified my suspicion.

It seems that man truly was a threat I should have killed.

As I continued to pull the cart, I glanced at the distant mountains, their peaks barely visible.

They pierced through the clouds, rising high above, forming the tallest peaks in the world.

Though we were still about half a day away, the sight alone was enough to stir a strange feeling of both awe and dread within me.

I shook the lingering unease from my mind and pressed forward.

Despite the bright midday sun and the adrenaline from encountering such a powerful being, I was already feeling drained.

Walking for so long, coupled with pulling this cart, had taken its toll.

But I couldn't stop now not when Rosaline, with her cheerful presence, had managed to make my heart flutter, even if only for a moment.

Ah, I imagined myself clutching my head. Why am I so weak to children?

"Ah, my dear student, you're lucky I'm weak to such charms," I said, glancing back at her.

She looked up from the book she was engrossed in, her legs swinging playfully in the air. "Am I really?"

"Yes!" I huffed, puffing out my cheeks for effect. "If not, you'd still be training by pulling this thing."

"Maybe I faked my tears," she said, smirking.

"I beg to differ. After all, I can read your soul you truly were scared," I teased.

She scoffed, returning her gaze to her book. "You should teach me more about mana theory. I've heard about these things called invocations."

Hmm, I hadn't taught her about the act of summoning oneself or calling upon a god.

While much of it was common knowledge, explaining it to my dear student wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Ah, my dear, dear foolish student," I said, raising my free hand and dismissing my Dormant Edge back to its cage.

"Like pathways and Orders, invocations should be a representation of a person's soul, body, and mind," I explained, glancing back at her wide-eyed expression.

"If you wish to summon an entity to hear your pleas or grant you power, you must invoke their name. By the world's standards, only those who have reached the peak are worthy of claiming such a privilege."

"Thus, we use titles and bearings to summon gods or other entities," I continued, recalling my past experiences of invoking divine powers.

"My own invocation is both gracious and fitting for my character. Would you like to hear it?"

Her look of confusion quickly shifted to understanding. "Yes, my dear master, please share your invocation."

I turned forward, speaking with deliberate emphasis.

"I am."

"The One Who Gazes Upon the Void."

"He Who Is Clad in a Cloud of Nothing."

"The Lamb Who Seeks the Future."

"The Fool Who Clings to Hope."

"The Visionary Who Sees Nothing."

I coughed, grinning under my mask. "If you speak these words in this exact order and then ask me for something, I would hear it."

She stared at me, a pitiful expression on her face. "These titles imply you see a future filled with nothingness... Do you?"

I hesitated, crafting a new mask over my expression as I had done before for Cabel and Abby. Yet, I was certain she saw through it.

"My visions are of world endings," I admitted softly. "If you wish, I can craft a different invocation for you."

She studied me before smiling. "That might be better. I'd rather not reference an eventual end every time I ask for your help."

I pondered for a moment, trying to create a more fitting invocation one that would summon me no matter the context or circumstance.

"He Who Sees Nothing."

"The Fool Clad in Clouds of Null."

"The Dormant Scholar Who Seeks Hope."

"The Visionary Who Resides in the Gothic Hall."

Rosaline frowned, her burdened look unmistakable. "That's not much better. Also, why do you call yourself a fool?"

"Ah, the most important thing to know about me, Rosie dear, is this: in my eyes, I am the greatest fool, yet the most knowledgeable," I replied, smiling beneath my mask.

"After all, I am a Visionary one who wishes to stop the end, knowing full well that he cannot."

She sighed. "I suppose you are a fool, though I think of it more as... a hero."

And then, in a voice laced with mana, passion, peace, and resolve, she spoke.

"The king of Black."

"The hero in the dark."

"The Visonary who sees nothing."

"The peace in the heart."

"I call upon you in hopes of easing your heart."

I feared she might unintentionally summon an unbroken being, but to my surprise, I felt something stir within me.

For that fleeting moment, my heart felt... at ease.

"While I do think both of our invocations would call upon me I'd much rather have it be a mixture of both," I said smiling.

She tilted her head and then I spoke the words, infusing them into her mind without blood pact so she could never forget.

"The King of Black and Blue,

The Lord of the Gothic Castle,

The Visionary who gazes upon Nothing,

The Duality of Hope and Null,

And he who is bound by the threads off the end."

"For now on, refer to me by this calling. Be sure not to tell anyone else," I said, placing a finger over my mask where my mouth would be.

She smiled and nodded, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity.

I looked back toward the path ahead, the mountains looming in the distance like silent sentinels. "When you grow stronger, I'll make one for you," I added.

She laughed, her voice light yet filled with a youthful defiance. "Why don't I just make one now?"

"Ah, ignorant yet again," I teased, shaking my head. "It's best to wait until you become strong. After all, who knows how much you will change?"

Her laughter softened, but her gaze lingered on me with a peculiar warmth.

I thought back to the story I knew her future carved out in cruel certainty—and sighed.

Though I was well aware of the ending fate had written for her, I was just as certain I would rewrite it.

I glanced at her again, the faintest hint of resolve tightening my grip on the cart. I don't care what happens.

She will live. She will live until the very world comes to an end.

...

The sun started to dip lower, painting everything in orange and purple, but we were still walking.

The damn mountains seemed no closer than they had that morning, and pulling the cart all day had my arms and legs aching.

Every step felt like an eternity, dirt crunching under my boots as if the road itself was mocking me.

"Is it just me," I muttered, "or do these mountains move farther away every time we look at them?"

Rosaline looked up from her book, swinging her legs off the side of the cart. "Maybe you're just slow."

"Slow? I've been hauling this thing all day while you've been sitting back there reading your little stories."

She smirked. "You volunteered to pull it. Not my fault you're bad at delegating."

"Remind me to teach you about back-breaking labor when we get through this," I grumbled. "I've got a whole lesson plan ready."

We finally reached the base of the mountains just as the last light faded, and I dropped the cart handle with a loud groan, stretching my arms.

"Finally. I swear, this took twice as long as it should've. Who even decided mountains should be this tall? Ridiculous."

Rosaline hopped off the cart, looking up at the towering peaks with wide eyes. "They're pretty amazing, though. The way they cut through the clouds..."

"Yeah," I said looking through at the trail leading through the mountains. "And after we set camp here for around two days we're going to go through there."

I walked up and leaned the cart while sighing, I wasn't physically tired or mentally that is, more so, passionately tired.

I felt as though I should feel this way, so after looking up at the sky I smiled. "Ah, Rose be a dear and wake me up once it hits dawn."

She walked in front of me and smiled. "I don't promise."