What Do You desire?

The room felt colder than it should have been, air heavy with thoughts I didn't want to entertain.

Grandma Sylvie… dead?

No.

It was not possible—

I shook my head violently, as if the sheer force of it could throw the idea out of my mind.

It was ridiculous.

Impossible.

There was no way I'd let something like that happen.

But the image was stubborn, creeping back in like an unwelcomed guest.

An assassin… targeting me? That part was easy enough to believe.

My "empty physique" made me a perfect weakling, a walking invitation for the other members of our family who had a grudge against my parents.

After all…my father had many enemies.

And if one did come, there was no doubt what Ma would do.

My lips pressed into a hard line as my mind betrayed me, spinning the scenarios like some cruel playwright scripting my worst nightmare.

She would have stood in front of me, her small body shielding mine, her eyes blazing with the same fierce love she'd always had. But her locked mana core—damn the Romero family and their rules—would have meant she couldn't fight back properly.

She would have been outmatched, outpowered.

And she'd die.

She'd die, buying me just enough time to escape.

A shudder ran through me. My hands clenched into fists so tight that my nails dug into my palms.

If something like that really happened—if someone dared to take her from me—I wouldn't just get revenge.

I'd burn that person's world down to its core.

The thought startled me, and I blinked, loosening my grip.

My knuckles were white, my chest rising and falling as though I'd been running.

I forced myself to take a deep breath. "Get it together," I muttered, even though my voice sounded hollow to my ears.

I leaned back against the door, staring at the ceiling. It was painted a dull, cracked white, nothing remarkable.

Yet, for some reason, I focused on it, as though grounding myself in its imperfection could keep me from spiraling.

Noah, focus.

The future version of me in the Book of Sin—he hadn't let this happen.

He'd figured out a way to awaken his physique.

That was the answer.

That was the only thing that mattered right now.

I closed my eyes, letting the words etched in the book's pages rise to the surface of my mind.

"The greatest gifts are born out of nothingness."

It sounded poetic at first, but I knew better. The book had never dealt in poetry. It dealt in truths—brutal, unyielding truths.

"To seek what you desire, you must lose what's most important."

I let the words hang in the silence, their weight pressing against me.

What did it mean? Lose what's most important? Was it some metaphor for sacrifice? Or was it literal?

I pushed myself off the door, pacing the room as if movement could help my thoughts untangle.

My bare feet hit the cold wooden floor in uneven beats.

The mural's description had been vague, cryptic even.

But it was clear about one thing—awakening my physique wasn't going to be easy.

I stopped pacing, turning to face the only source of light in the room—a lone candle flickering on the desk.

Its flame wavered, but it never went out, stubbornly holding onto life even against the air sneaking in from the window.

For a moment, I envied the flame.

I sat down at the desk, resting my elbows on its scarred surface.

My hands came up to cradle my face as I closed my eyes, willing myself to focus.

I needed to remember what the future me had done.

The book hadn't detailed the process, only the outcome.

But there was one scene—a page where the future me was sitting inside in a circle of blood, his body trembling, even his face was pale but his eyes… they were alive.

The memory of that mural was so vivid it felt like it had been burned into my brain.

The dark cave he had been hiding in. The trembling. The blood.

My breath hitched. Blood?

My gaze flickered to the candle, its flame reflected in my wide eyes.

Of course. Blood. Life and death. Creation and destruction. The murals were always about balance.

And balance in the new age had always been depicted with the help of our mana cores—

The mana core is said to reside at the centre of our body, just below the nape.

It is said that by developing our core's, we become more attuned with nature and our thus able to walk the path of a mage.

And the reason why I could never become a mage was because my mana core was unable to hold the energy known as mana from the surroundings.

My chair scraped against the floor as I stood abruptly, the sound sharp and jarring in the still room.

I moved to the small chest at the foot of my bed, pulling it open to reveal an assortment of items—a dagger among them.

Its blade was simple, unadorned, but its edge gleamed in the dim light. I picked it up, its weight familiar in my hand.

These was one of the items I had used to open the Book Of Sin—

Returning to the desk, I set the blade down carefully, my reflection distorted on its polished surface.

My heart was racing now, not from fear but from the electric anticipation coursing through me.

This was it.

The beginning.

"To seek what you desire, you must lose what's most important."

What did I desire?

Strength?

Power?

The ability to protect the people I cared about?

And what would I need to lose in exchange?

The thought lingered as I held the blade, its cool surface pressed against my palm.

"I'll find out soon enough," I murmured.

The candle flickered, its light casting long, shifting shadows on the walls.

It was already afternoon, I thought.

12 hours to go before grandma dies.

***

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