Death was an inch away earlier.

But Kaelyn was still more in shock as to who Deklan really was.

A new Exorcist with the power to solo a bronze-rank Beta without any help. Know nothing about spells. Still couldn't use aura. Has the ability to endure flames with his bare body. And even has a relationship with Ghosts.

It was bizarre.

Kaelyn could even say that in his twenty-two years of living, Deklan was the most mysterious.

Nothing about him made sense.

A young man who lived in a Ghost-infested forest.

Even for someone who was disconnected from the outside world, his adept social skills were odd.

'I have researched this forest. It's technically within the March of Tiernan, but it was unattended since it was far away from the capital city. And there shouldn't be any settlement in here,' Kaelyn thought, eyes locked onto Deklan, who was slowly recovering. 'Just who is he?'

"Eugh…" Deklan sat up and scooted over to lean on a tree.

He coughed weakly a couple of times, slowly regaining his senses again.

Deklan took a minute to rest his body and mind, still enduring the throbbing pain—that was now not as painful as it was moments earlier. Once he was feeling better, he opened his eyes and looked down a t his right hand.

Surprisingly, the black symbols from earlier were nowhere to be seen.

And he felt no more connection to the Hellhound Beta.

It seemed the spell was forced to be cancelled now that he was far away from the target.

But it was only then did he realized something; other than the pain, he couldn't feel his right arm.

Specifically, elbow-down where the black symbols were.

"Shit… I think I get it." Deklan muttered inwardly.

From what he felt earlier when using the Binding Thread spell, or rather, the Marionette Bind spell, his Cursed Mana Veins made the original spell into its forbidden version—that was far stronger compared to its original counterpart.

It was obvious from how Kaelyn looked stunned at the spell effect earlier.

And like any other thing that was forbidden, it came at a cost.

In this case, the cost of using that spell was his entire arm.

Yo, system, is my arm dead? Do I need to repair it?

[Scanning…]

[Nope, it's only paralyzed—for around ten minutes to an hour. You don't need to repair it. You can still use it using mana, but it would remain paralyzed without it.]

That's good, but what in the hell, system? Do you really need to give me this stupid Mana Vein?

[Huh? I'm not the one who used the forbidden method for the Awakening Ritual.]

You should've at least warned me.

[Okay, princess. Should I carry you to bed, too?]

Shut up.

"That being the case, who the fuck is King in Red?" Deklan thought aloud, recalling the new forbidden spell description. "It must be tied to the Candle of Four Kinds method. Either way, I need to experiment more with using spells. But later. Now, I want to hit the sack so bad."

Deklan rose to his feet, using the tree as supposed as his entire body was exhausted right now.

Not to mention, his skin still felt like burning.

"You good?" Deklan leaned against the tree and turned to Kaelyn. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No. I'm fine, Kaelyn shook her head. "Instead of me, I think you should worry about yourself."

"Yeah, that's about right," Deklan held his paralyzed right arm and limped away, heading back home to rest his body that was already screaming at him to stop moving right now. "Fucking hell, I really wanted to take a picture with that Hellhound to show Marsha. Whatever. Maybe I'll check it out tomorrow—or maybe…"

Kaelyn watched in silence as Deklan mumbled to himself while walking away.

He didn't say goodbye or anything.

Just went on his way, presumably heading back to his settlement, so she should be going too.

Moments later.

Creak…

The door creaked as someone entered the house with heavy steps.

Following that were heavy thudding sounds.

Like the person who had only entered the house was knocking things over in the living room.

A few times were fine, but when the thuds kept going, the woman sleeping on the bed finally woke up.

Marsha sat up on the bed and rubbed her eyes, feeling a little bit better than compared to earlier.

She glanced out the window and realized that dawn had already broken, and sunlight crept over the rooftops as people stepped out to begin their day. Then, she looked around the bedroom, finding no trace of the person she wanted to see the most.

"He still isn't back? Or did he fall asleep in his hut?" She wandered.

It was a little bit troubling for Marsha.

Being sick like this, and also remembering what happened between them back then, she was hoping to see him around more. He checked on her regularly, but it would at least make her feel better to wake up with him beside her.

"Or… Did he go hunting again without me?"

Just as she thought of that, she finally heard the thuds coming from outside.

Before she could check, the door swung open, and Deklan entered.

Marsha looked up at him in surprise, but then her eyes lowered to her appearance right now.

Other than his exhausted expression and the fact that he was topless, what caught her attention the most was the wounds that riddled his entire body. Burnt wounds, cuts, and even bruises. One wound that stood out in particular was the one on his shoulder.

It was a deep cut.

And though it was already forming scar tissue, blood still seeped out a little.

Another thing that caught her attention; the fact that the skin on his right arm was darker than normal.

Clearly, he had been hunting.

Marsha felt a swell of anger rising inside her chest, considering that Deklan promised not to go hunting at least until she got better and looked after him again. But that anger didn't last long—as Deklan went over to the bed and crashed over onto her.

"Young master?!" She exclaimed in concern.

But instead of getting a response, Deklan pulled her back to the bed and snuggled close to her.

He buried his face against her neck, using her like a pillow.

"Fuck… This felt nice." He mumbled silently.

It was unclear whether he was still really conscious or not, but hearing this made Marsha unable to be mad at him. Instead, she placed her arm under his head—and pulled him close. And with her mana, she began to heal him.

…

Borodor Exorcist Academy, in a circular amphitheater—a monthly tournament was being held.

"Victor, Lancelot of class 1A!"

Cheers erupted throughout the entire place—as the announcer declared Lancelot the victor. The elegant blond shattered the final exchange with a clean, whiplash roundhouse kick—that sent his opponent hurtling across the arena, crashing spine-first into the polished wall with a thunderous crack.

It was a theatrical ending that erupted the entire place with claps and cheers.

One side was roaring in triumph, while the other was sulking at the loss.

Grabbing Lancelot's hand, the announcer brought him to face exclusive spectators—sitting on the royal box, a separate cubicle from the rest of the spectators. One person stood up and walked forward, face masked with polite heartiness.

Callen.

As he looked at Lancelot, he stretched out his arm, thumb pointing to the side.

He looked around the spectators, asking for their opinion on whether Lancelot deserved a reward or not.

More cheers and boos erupted, each side voicing out their own opinion.

And eventually, Callen smiled and pointed his thumb up.

It was a theatrical gesture that he was entertained by the fight, and Lancelot deserved additional rewards.

Once he gave his opinion, the announcer moved on to the academy's professors' turn to evaluate the two Exorcists' battle prowess. But Callen didn't stay to listen to their opinions; instead, he walked out along with his two bodyguards.

He went to his exclusive room for this occasion and then sat down roughly on the couch.

Both of his bodyguards followed inside.

"Keeping a smile all day is damn tiresome. Why do I even need to win the heart of the people?"

"Endure it, young master, the Rite of Succession is near. After you're named the heir by the Marquis, you won't need to worry too much about these things anymore."

"Yes, young master. Just a little bit more, and you'll be free to do whatever you want."

Hearing this, Callen sneered.

"Free to do whatever I want?" He scoffed, finding even the notion of that to be impossible. "Like that would ever happen as long as this mother of mine is around. Either way, I'm sure she will treat me a lot better once I become the heir."

Callen leaned back on the couch, resting his head.

Just then, he remembered something.

He flicked his fingers and pointed at one of the bodyguards, "You, have you heard anything from Rock?"

"No, young master," the bodyguard shook his head, knowing that this would mean nothing but trouble.

Callen leaned forward and clasped his hands together.

Even with his schedule crammed to the very brim, worry had always lurked in the back of his mind.

It was easy to ignore when he was neck-deep in work, but impossible to silence now.

All of his worries surged at once, tightening his chest.

"What happened to Rock…?" he muttered—pressing his fingers against his throbbing forehead. "Did that useless brother of mine actually kill him? He's never had the spine to crush an insect, let alone take a man's life. But there's no other explanation as to why Rock hadn't arrived back."

"Maybe Rock got wounded badly by your brother, young master. And he was too ashamed." One of the bodyguards, the one with spiky red hair, said.

"No," Callen shook his head. "Even if that's the case, he knew how important this was to me. At least, he'd be sending back Deklan's head to me. But there's no news for him. Something is wrong here, and I have a feeling it's because of that brother of mine."

Callen closed his eyes, dwelling in his worry.

His mother's words resounded repeatedly inside his mind.

'Remember, dear son… This is because I trust you.'

It was a subtle threat.

His mother was basically saying that if something goes wrong, then it'll be his head on the block.

"Let me relieve you of your worries, young master," the other bodyguard, the one who was calmer but colder than the other, stepped forward and saluted. "Send me to check, and I'll assure you to bring you news in a week, maximum."

Sensing Callen's worry, the bodyguard made an initiative to volunteer.

"Are you confident? If you failed, there will be consequences."

"Trust me, young master. If I fail, I will even hand you the sword to kill me myself. No matter what tricks your brother has, I'll destroy them."

"In that case, go. Bring me the good news."

"Yes, young master!"

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