Bloodstains that even the darkness of night could not erase… Organs and limbs scattered everywhere, making the scene look like a painting torn from the aftermath of a battle. Amid the heavy, metallic scent of blood, a boy knelt by a corpse, crying and muttering.
"Mother… Mother… Mother…"
He awoke shivering from a nightmare in a room untouched by the morning light.
"Hah… haa…"
He wiped the sweat from his face.
"No matter how many times I see it, I can't get used to it," he murmured.
The door clicked three times in a monotonous rhythm. The boy recognized the sound; it always came at the same hour, with the same pattern of knocks. The person at the door spoke without waiting for a reply:
"Sir, the meal is ready. You may go to the dining hall."
Then, without waiting, they turned and left without looking back.
Another day began in the boy's three-year-long vicious cycle.
***
In the dining hall, an elderly man was eating. The boy watched for a moment, then sat at the farthest seat and quietly began his meal.
The man said, "Karon."
An unnatural silence filled the room.
"Come to the training hall after your meal."
Karon did not respond.
"After receiving your Blessing, you will go to the frontlines. You will learn the necessary explanations after receiving it."
They stared at each other for a while. Once Karon finished his meal, he headed to the training hall and waited for the old man.
In the training hall, father and son fought as if they were enemies. The father was far superior, but the son refused to give up, rising to attack again and again.
"Do you think you can win by attacking continuously? Did your mother teach you nothing?"
Hearing this, Karon grew even more ferocious; yet it was futile—he had no power to stop his father's sword.
"My mother taught me things more important than a sword."
The father's expression remained unchanged throughout the training.
The relationship between father and son carried both distance and an ambiguous warmth. At the end of the session, they left the hall without looking at each other.
During his remaining free time, Karon summoned a servant to his room. He paid the servant to spend the day talking with him.
Everyone in the mansion was obliged to ignore him. Karon disliked this; thus, sometimes he paid servants to talk, play games, or spend time with him.
At night, he sneaked out of his room and headed to the library, pulling a bookshelf aside.
***
In a dimly lit room, Karon looked at a relatively old book on the desk, lost in thought rather than reading.
'How many times have I read this book now? Is this really the right choice?'
A few months ago, he had stumbled upon this room. Reading the books inside had left him in shock.
The books were varied: sword techniques, demonic monsters, knowledge of races and history… What made them truly special was either that they contained ancient, hard-to-obtain information, or that they were unprecedented.
The book Karon now held belonged to the second category.
The book Blessing and Cherks was written by an anonymous author. The title seemed unremarkable, but opening the cover changed everything.
'They spoke theoretically about Blessings. It's impressive they can speculate so much. Yet being so certain that Blessings did not exist before… strange. How can they trust the source of this information so completely?'
Despite reading the book multiple times, he had yet to solve some of its theories.
"Book or no book, I won't follow the path my father chose. That's enough for today."
He rose from the desk with a key in hand. He inserted it into a drawer, but the lock did not click open. He ignored it and reached inside with his hand.
Inside was a pouch. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary pouch. Its color was a mix of brown and gray, slightly aged. Its mouth was tied not with a string but with a red ribbon.
Karon opened the pouch and began placing the books from the bookshelf inside.
"I wonder how Father will react when he finds out I took this."
He left the hidden room and returned to his bed. He wasn't afraid of being caught; no one roamed the mansion at night.
***
He awoke the next morning as usual. After eating, he returned to his room. He had plenty of free time but no one to talk to. The servants were busy preparing for the ceremony and would not spare him time even for payment.
During the day, he entered various rooms, putting objects into pocket-sized storage. Some were necessities, others merely for pleasure.
That night, Karon would leave the mansion for good. Before departing, he packed many items, both essential and trivial, into his pockets.
While arranging his room, the door knocked.
Karon froze for a moment. Rapid thoughts raced through his mind: Who was at the door? Should he flee now?
At that moment, the man at the door spoke:
"Sir, I am Norn. I'm here to remind you of tomorrow afternoon's Blessing ceremony. Also, if you have any needs, please let me know now."
Karon took a deep breath and replied briefly:
"No need. Leave me be, that's enough."
***
At midnight, Karon held a sword in the hidden room.
Its blade glowed with the orange of fire. However, a permanent bloodstain marred its surface. Amid the ceaseless flames, the blood remained without evaporating, a mark that refused to disappear.
Karon stared at the sword in awe, pondering whose blood it could be, though he had no clue. The book had mentioned nothing about the blood.
The hilt was made of fireproof leather, yet extinguishing the flames was impossible. At midnight, he wandered the mansion's corridors, the sword glowing brightly.
He reached the garden and climbed the wall near the forest.
In the darkness, the mansion appeared even more lifeless. For three years, he had failed to bring even a single warmth here. He felt regret, but it no longer mattered.
Leaving his regret behind, Karon entered the forest.