Mage Iolanda," Akame said, rising briefly in a gesture of respect.
Iolanda merely nodded and walked toward me, carrying two vials—one red, one blue.
"Drink this." She handed me the red vial. "It will accelerate the healing of the acid wound in your leg."
I pulled the blanket aside and saw it. The flesh had given way, the bones of my right thigh exposed. Pain flared suddenly, as if my body had only just remembered it was supposed to hurt. I downed the red liquid in one gulp, so quickly I almost choked. Heat surged through my veins, burning from within, and I watched the wound begin to close, though not completely.
"Now this one." She handed me the blue vial. "It will restore the vital energy you spent when you invoked Qliphothic energy."
Qliphothic. The word froze me more than the liquid itself—but I drank it anyway. Coolness slid down my throat, spreading in soft waves through my body. The pain ebbed, the heaviness in my bones faded… and along with it came an irresistible drowsiness.
"When you wake again, we'll speak of what happened," Iolanda said, already turning to leave. "Until then, rest. Do not fight the sleep."
My eyelids grew too heavy to resist. So many questions, so many doubts pounded in my mind… but the world dimmed around me.
And once more, all that remained was darkness.
★★★
"How are you feeling?" Mage Akame asked, steadying my arm as she helped me walk.
The two potions still echoed inside me. The red had sealed the wounds, the blue gave me a strange lightness, as though I were floating in a state of deep relaxation. It was almost like hypnosis, but different—closer to a sedative that dulled pain without stealing consciousness. I couldn't complain—I was far better than yesterday, though not yet whole.
"Much better, Mage Akame," I answered, adjusting my breath. "I still feel some pain where the acid struck me, but just seeing it healed is already a relief."
"Good." Her voice carried calm certainty. "We're going to meet with Mage Iolanda and Elder Marduk."
We walked in silence through the corridors of the Dark Throne branch in Askov. The polished stone walls reflected the magical glow of chandeliers, and the air was thick with incense laced with the dry scent of old parchment. Each step echoed heavily, a reminder that my body was not yet free from fatigue.
We stopped before a tall door of dark wood. The sigil of the Dark Throne, carved in crimson iron, seemed to stare back at me with its intertwined lines. Akame knocked lightly before pushing it open.
"I've brought him as requested," she said, bowing low.
The office looked almost untouched since my last visit with Iolanda. Magical chandeliers bathed the space in constant light, while shelves crammed with grimoires lined the walls, each marked with subtle runes pulsing faintly beneath their bindings. The air was dense, charged with mana—far too heavy for a simple "office."
At the far end, framed by a tall window spilling golden sunlight, sat Elder Marduk. Even seated, his presence filled the room. The chair was not as ornate as the one I'd seen during the Arcane Council conference, yet it bore the gravity of a throne belonging to one who decided fates.
To his right, standing tall as a sentinel, was Iolanda. Her posture was rigid, hands clasped behind her back, eyes vigilant—not as a daughter, but as her lord's guard.
"Thank you, Mage Akame," Iolanda said. Her serious tone carried the weight of a verdict more than gratitude. "Please leave us."
It wasn't a request. It was an order, clear as steel.
"Of course, Mage Iolanda," Akame replied, bowing before she withdrew. The sound of the door closing behind her rang like the seal of destiny.
"Sit down, Elian." Elder Marduk's voice cut through the air. "We will speak about what happened on the field."
I obeyed, taking a seat as ordered. He rose, walking with firm steps to the far sofa and sitting with the authority of one accustomed to every gaze resting on him. Iolanda, silent, sat directly before me, her hands resting on her knees, posture as upright as a statue of discipline.
On the center table, three cups steamed. The strong aroma of black tea filled the office, blending with the dry smell of parchment and cold iron. I waited. Only when the Elder lifted his cup to his lips did I dare mimic the gesture.
The air grew heavier by the second. Anxious cold pooled in my stomach, as though even my mana trembled in his presence.
"Did the potions help you?" the Elder asked, setting his cup back on the table.
"Yes, Elder Marduk," I answered, striving to keep my voice steady. "I feel much better. Thank you for them."
He gave a brief nod, as if the response were a mere formality. Then he spoke:
"Good. Let me explain what happened." His crimson eyes pierced me before he continued. "That black energy you used yesterday, when it wrapped around the flames… it is called Chaotic Energy."
The words thundered within me. Chaotic Energy. A name that seemed to carry centuries of weight.
"I believe Iolanda has already explained the altar to you. Am I correct?" he asked, lifting his cup again.
"Yes, Elder Marduk," I confirmed. "But I still haven't found the deity I'll place on it."
"Even if you had, you still wouldn't be able to raise the altar," Iolanda said, her voice calm but firm. "For that, you must first kill a rank 5 or 4 beast with your own hands, with no one's aid."
"So that time I killed the Demonic Tiger on the road back from Askov doesn't count?" I thought, frustration flaring for a heartbeat. But deep down, it made sense. If the altar was to be the extension of my bond with an entity, it had to be born of my blood, my strength, my act.
I remembered Earth. The stories whispered in alleys, the cults rooted in Brazil where I once lived. The orixás, the offerings, the shrines for Exus and Pombagiras. There too, they spoke of giving physical form to an entity through the sacrifice of animal blood. Here, the principle was the same—only dressed in different symbols.
Different, yes. But not unfamiliar.
"Very well," Elder Marduk continued, his voice deep and resounding through the chamber. "To wield the energy that comes from the Qliphoth—the Chaotic Energy—you need the altar." He paused, his crimson gaze fixed on me, as though weighing every tremor in my soul. "Without one, the Qliphoth feeds directly on your Life Force, as it did when you fought that Demonic Tiger."
"When you lack an altar," Iolanda added sharply, "the Qliphoth drinks from you. The altar exists to feed the Chaos in your stead, so your life isn't bled dry with each invocation."
"But…" My voice faltered. "Where does the altar draw this vital energy from?"
"From you," Elder Marduk replied without hesitation. "Part of it comes from your blood, shed upon it each month. The rest comes from sacrifices."
My stomach twisted. "So I have to capture an entire beast and bring it to the altar?"
"No." Iolanda's voice was like a blade. "What matters is the Vital Core. It is enough to kill the beast and extract it."
She lifted her hand, touching the amulet that bore the Dark Throne sigil. Light pulsed outward, and an object in the shape of a heart floated into her palm.
"Here." She extended it toward me. "This is the Vital Core of the Demonic Tiger you defeated. It will serve as the foundation of your altar. When you raise it, you will pour your blood upon it—and the bond will be sealed."
I took the core carefully. It measured barely ten centimeters, yet its weight felt greater than any stone. The chill radiating from it reminded me of iron abandoned in a blizzard—a cold that did not burn, but seeped into the bone. I also felt a rhythmic pulse, as though the fragment still carried the echo of the beast's life, beating in tune with my own heart.
I gripped it tightly, channeling a thread of mana into the ring my mother had given me on my birthday. At the thought of storing the core, it vanished, swallowed into the artifact's space.
For a moment, I only stared at the ring on my finger. I couldn't tell if I felt protected… or cursed.
I turned to Iolanda and asked:
"When you showed me your altar back in Brumaria, I didn't see any vital core."
"Of course you did," she replied without hesitation. "It was the entity at the center—the serpent."
"Wait… wasn't it made of wood?" I asked. I remembered clearly the texture, the fissures across its body. I couldn't be going mad.
"No," came Marduk's voice this time, deep and resonant, filling the chamber. "They are forged from the hearts of wild beasts."
"When you pour your blood on it, it takes the shape of the goddess or entity you encountered in meditation," Iolanda added. "The statuette is born crimson, like living flesh. With time, it hardens, becoming wooden in appearance, until it starts to splinter. That's the sign you need to remake it with another vital core."
A shiver ran down my spine. In my mind, I replayed the image of that unmoving serpent, believing it to be just a sculpture. Now I understood—it had been a heart, petrified by the very essence of the Qliphoth.
"All right," Marduk said after a pause that weighed on my shoulders. "I believe you already grasp the basics. Beyond that, Iolanda told you the altar also serves as a key to enter the Qliphoth, didn't she?"
"Yes, Elder!" I replied, bowing. "Thank you for this explanation as well."
He kept staring at me for several moments, as if trying to pierce my skin and drag out the thoughts I kept buried. The silence stretched until finally he spoke:
"You're a strange boy." He broke the quiet with the ease of someone stating an obvious truth. "You're only six years old, yet you act as if you were far older."
I swallowed hard. If only he knew…
"Well," he resumed, glancing away, "that doesn't concern me."
He rose, walked to the table near the window where the golden light of sunset filtered through the curtains, and concluded:
"You may return to your room, or walk around the branch if you prefer. At dawn tomorrow we'll take the Teleport to Cainã. You're dismissed."
"With your leave." I bowed once more before stepping out.
Outside, Mage Akame was waiting for me, as firm as ever.
"What will you do?" she asked, her eyes steady on me.
"I'll go to my room, Mage Akame," I answered. "I need some rest."
She only nodded, and we walked the corridor in silence. The echo of our steps mingled with the faint clinking of distant chains and the muffled murmur of mages in other rooms.
I lowered my gaze to the ring on my finger. Its subtle gleam caught the torchlight, but to me it felt unbearably heavy. Inside it rested the vital core that would shape my first altar. A gift from my parents, and at the same time a direct link to the darkness now calling me.
As I walked, my heart tightened. I didn't know if I was ready… but there was no turning back.
We reached my room. The fireplace was already lit, spreading a comforting warmth through the chamber. I closed the door behind me and let myself collapse onto the bed, sinking into the softness of the mattress.
My hands went instinctively to the ring. It felt heavier than ever, as though it carried not just the tiger's core, but a destiny I still couldn't fully comprehend.
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. Elder Marduk's words echoed in my mind, mingled with memories of my mother, of Emanuelle and Anthony, of my father's smile at the graveside. Each memory pulled me in different directions: one part of me longed to run back home, another hungered to see how far this path into the Qliphoth would take me.
The altar… the blood… the Qliphoth.
Whispers of promises and curses coiled around me.
Tomorrow, the portal would open, and I would take my first step toward Cainã—toward the unknown awaiting me within the Dark Throne.
As sleep began to overtake me, I could only murmur to myself:
"Father… Mother… I don't know what I'll become in the future. But I promise I won't waste what you sacrificed for me."
The fire cracked in the hearth, as though answering my silent vow. And so, with the weight of the ring pressing on my finger, the night enveloped me—preparing me for the day I would cease to be just a boy and begin becoming part of the darkness.