The Cure

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The scent of freshly baked bread clung to the crisp morning air as I balanced a wicker basket on my hip.

The loaves inside were still warm, their golden crusts peeking through the cloth covering. 

The market was already crowded, voices rising and falling like tides on a full moon as townsfolk haggled for the best deals.

I approached a small shop tucked into the corner of the square, its wooden sign creaking faintly in the breeze.

The shopkeeper, a wiry woman named Clara, stood by the door, arranging jars of honey on a shelf. Her sharp, brown eyes lit up when she spotted me.

"Sylvie!" she called out, brushing her hands on her apron. "Right on time, as always."

I offered a polite smile, setting the basket on the counter just inside the shop.

"Morning, Clara. Brought your usual order. Fresh from the oven."

Clara leaned over the basket, inhaling deeply. "Ah, bless you. Your bread sells faster than anything else I've got here."

I busied myself with unloading the loaves, their warm weight familiar against my hands. Clara chattered away, her voice a constant hum in the background.

Something about the mayor's new rules on market taxes, or perhaps it was the tavern brawl from the night before—I wasn't really listening.

And then, a piercing caw split the air.

Both of us froze, our heads snapping toward the sound.

A raven soared above the market square, its black wings cutting through the sunlight as it circled high overhead.

Clara squinted, her brow furrowing. "Strange... you don't see those in town often."

My heart stuttered in my chest. I knew that raven.

Its movements weren't random; they were deliberate... practiced.

Clara turned back to me, curiosity etched on her face. "You alright, Sylvie? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I forced a tight smile, quickly covering the remaining loaves in the basket.

"I just remembered I've got something on the stove. I'll be back later for the payment."

Before she could protest, I was already moving, my boots clicking against the cobblestones as I ducked into a narrow alleyway.

The air here was cooler, the walls casting deep shadows that swallowed the noise of the market.

I paused, tilting my head back and whistling a low, intricate tune.

The raven's answer was immediate.

Its caw echoed sharply as it dove down from the sky, landing on a nearby crate with an unsettling grace.

Its black eyes gleamed like polished stone, unblinking and intelligent.

"Good boy," I murmured, reaching out to stroke its feathers.

It leaned into my touch, its beak clicking softly as it extended its leg toward me.

A small piece of parchment was tied there, bound with a black thread.

My fingers trembled as I worked to untie it, the paper crinkling faintly in the quiet background.

"The Patriarch summons you."

My breath dropped.

The words echoed in my mind, heavier than the note's weight.

I glanced back at the raven, its unblinking gaze locked onto mine as if awaiting further instruction.

"You've done your job," I said softly, giving it one last stroke before it took off, wings slicing through the air as it disappeared into the sky.

Clutching the note tightly, I turned and made my way back towards the market square.

But my thoughts were far from bread and small talk now.

The Romero Patriarch.

Venus Romero.

He rarely summoned anyone unless it was urgent.

And urgent with him?

It always meant trouble. 

The streets of the market faded behind me as I walked towards our house.

The raven had flown off, its dark silhouette disappearing into the morning sky as if it hadn't been there at all. 

I did not let my thoughts linger on it. My gaze swept over the crumbling stone walls and uneven cobblestones of the city's outer district.

This place, rough and unpolished, was a far cry from the Techno Hub of the Von Stien Empire's capital, where wealth and power dripped from every corner.

I pulled my shawl tighter around me, my footsteps steady but unhurried.

In this world, if you were weak, then it was only your fault.

The brutal truth rang in my mind, as familiar as the air I breathed.

It was a delicate balance…the strong lived like kings and queens and the weak were crushed away like useless ants.

But the world hadn't always been this way.

As my feet carried me past shuttered windows and narrow alleyways, my thoughts drifted back to the stories of old, the tales whispered by my grandmother when I was just a child.

Back then, the empires had been fragmented, locked in endless wars over land, resources, and dominance. It was chaos.

Then they came.

The Kalki.

No one knew where they had come from, whether they were remnants of some ancient civilization or invaders from another world entirely.

Their intent was clear: to usurp Earth, to take our world for themselves.

They were unlike anything humanity had ever faced.

With appearances identical to ours, the only difference being the black horns on their head, many fell prey to their deceptions.

Fearing that these aliens might actually be our doom, all the empires united.

The Central Government was born, a council of leaders from each kingdom and empire, sworn to defend the planet at all costs.

They had managed to drive back the Kalki, but the cost had been immense.

Entire cities were razed, and countless lives were lost.

The Kalki had been defeated then, however, the unity of the empires was short-lived.

The Central Government remained, trying to keep control, but the old power struggles resumed, fueled by new rivalries and grudges.

Now, centuries later, the scars of the Kalki invasion still mark our world.

Cities like this one, on the outskirts of the empire, bore the brunt of those scars.

The Central Government kept the peace, but barely.

Beneath the surface, the empires jockeyed for position, their ambitions unchecked.

It all came down to one thing: power. 

I sighed, shaking my head as I almost reached my house.

That was when I felt it.

The air around me shifted, the faintest whisper of something unnatural brushing against my senses.

I froze, my hand immediately going to the dagger hidden beneath my shawl.

And then it hit.

It was mana.

Even though my core was sealed, years of practising made it easy for me to feel it.

And the fact that I was just a weak mortal right now without my core made it worse.

"What in the—?" I muttered, my legs going weak as I gripped the wall next to me.

My instincts screamed at me to turn back, to run, but I couldn't.

My house was in that direction, and something—someone…was inside.

Shit.

Noah was inside the house!!

*** 

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My head throbbed like shit.

Batshit crazy.

Fuck—

I could feel something pulsing in my skull as I tried to open my eyes.

My limbs felt real heavy, and my throat was as dry as it could be.

The faint memory of the book—the glowing lingered in my mind, hazy and incomplete.

"NOAH!"

The sound of my name, sharp and panicked, pulled me further out of my brain.

I groaned as I felt my shoulders being jerked up and down with a surprising force.

My eyes fluttered open, only to be met with the frantic face of my Grandma, Sylvie, looming over me.

"What the hell...?" I muttered weakly, my voice rough.

"Oh, thank the gods," she breathed out, though her relief was short-lived.

She shook me again, none too gently. "Wake up properly, you stubborn boy! What happened? Did you feel it, the sudden spike of mana in the air?"

I blinked, trying to focus on her words, but clearly failing.

My memories of the last few moments…or hours, were a mess.

The book, the blood, the overwhelming glow… it all mixed into my brain like a chocolate smoothie.

"Quit shaking your head like that and answer me!" Ma snapped, her tone sharp but laced with worry.

She was still in the floral frock she'd worn to the market earlier, though it was slightly crumpled now.

Her face, however, was a different story—eyes wide with panic, lips pressed into a thin line, and brows furrowed like a storm cloud.

"Ma, stop!" I managed to rasp out, patting weakly at her hands as she gave me one last, firm shake.

My body jolted up, and the haze in my mind began to clear.

"Thank goodness," she muttered, taking a step back.

"Now, tell me. Did you feel anything strange? Anything at all?"

Her question sent a shot of adrenaline through me, and my eyes darted to the table where it had been placed.

The book.

The Book of Sin.

It was gone.

Where the hell did it go? I screamed internally as my stomach dropped.

I tried to make the straightest face possible as I faced her, trying to mask the panic that threatened to spill over. 

"I… I don't know what you're talking about," I said carefully, avoiding her gaze as I rubbed the back of my neck.

Sylvie's sharp eyes bore into me…had she sensed something when the book started glowing?

"Don't you dare lie to me, boy," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

But after a long, tense moment, she let out another sigh, and the heavy aura surrounding her seemed to fade.

She turned and walked over to my bed, picking up the half-empty bottle of water.

Her gaze flicked back to me, narrowing as she noticed my worried eyes checking the room out. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing," I said quickly, too quickly. My mind raced as I tried to think of where the book had disappeared.

Did it vanish?

Was it stolen?

Or… did it do something even worse?

Grandma's skeptical look deepened. She crossed her arms and leaned against the backrest of the bed, watching me like a hawk.

"Out with it, boy. It's not like you've gotten some girl pregnant or something, is it?" she said, her tone half-joking.

I froze, my brain short-circuiting at her words. "What? No!" I sputtered, my face heating up.

Sylvie raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "You're awfully defensive for someone who hasn't done anything."

"Ma, seriously!" I groaned, running a hand through my hair.

Her expression shifted slightly, a flicker of genuine concern crossing her features. "Wait… don't tell me you actually—"

"No!" I cut her off, my voice louder than I intended. "Gods, Ma, no. Just stop!"

She let out a huff, though her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Well, good. Because I'm too young to be a great-grandma, and I'm definitely not babysitting."

I buried my face in my hands, wishing for the ground to swallow me whole.

"Can we not talk about this?" I muttered.

Sylvie's wide smile stretchd wider but the tension still lingered.

Seeing her reaction, whatever mana she felt because of the Book if Sin must be big.

Unfortunately, the thought only stressed me out more.

'Where the hell is that damn book?'

Weirdly, Grandma's patience ran thinner than mine as she rolled her eyes and straightened up.

"Out with it, Noah. Whatever's got you acting like a guilty little squirrel, spill it. Now."

I hesitated, debating whether to tell her the truth.

But before I could make up my mind, she added, "It's not like you can keep secrets from me, anyway.

I've known you since you were in diapers, remember?"

I let out a long sigh, realizing that it was indeed true that I couldn't dodge her questions forever.

Slowly, I lifted my head and met her gaze.

"Have you seen that book?" I asked, my voice quieter than I thought possible. "The one Mom and Dad left for me?"

"That book? No… why? Is something the matter?"

Her genuine confusion only made my chest tighten as I swallowed hard, debating my next words.

Then, deciding to rip the bandage off in a single breath, I looked her straight in the eye and confessed,

"I may have found the cure to my empty physique."

***