Heavy rain pounded the tin roof of the old boathouse, creating a constant din like thousands of pebbles dropped from the sky. Yet, for Elian, the noise was merely background to the symphony of pain playing out within his own body.
The first day after the fight with Viper was a silent hell.
Elian tried to rise from the pile of straw.
"Ugh..."
As soon as he lifted his head, intense dizziness hit him. Not just from blood loss, but from the Ring of Weight on his left index finger. The plain black band seemed to possess its own gravitational field. Lifting his left hand felt like hoisting an iron block. His heart beat twice as fast just to pump blood through his suppressed body.
And his right shoulder...
Elian turned to look at his shoulder, wrapped in thick bandages. Heat and itching mingled together. Beneath the bandages, his flesh was at war. Cells empowered by dragon essence and the World's Blessing were knitting severed muscle fibers back together at an unnatural speed, but the process was draining his calories and mana drastically.
"Don't move too much," Lunaria said. She was sitting on an old wooden crate, stirring a bowl of pungent herbal porridge. "Your stitches could tear if you force yourself against the ring's gravity."
"It's... so heavy, Master," Elian complained, his voice hoarse. He fell back onto the straw, breathing heavily just from the effort of sitting up. "How can I fight ghosts if I shake just lifting a spoon?"
Lunaria walked over, knelt beside him, and fed a spoonful of the bitter porridge into Elian's mouth.
"You won't fight with muscles," Lunaria replied firmly. "The ring suppresses your mana flow, making it slow and viscous like mud. But that forces you to control every drop of mana with higher precision. If you can move a finger with that ring on, it's equivalent to smashing a rock without it."
Elian swallowed the porridge with difficulty. It tasted like dirt, but he felt warmth spreading through his stomach.
"Viper..." Elian murmured. "Is he really dead?"
"His corpse was found by the city guard this morning," Lunaria set the bowl down. She picked up two blades from the crate.
They were Viper's Twin Karambits. Curved like hawk talons, forged from black steel mixed with traces of Obsidian. The hilts were wrapped in high-quality snakeskin.
"These are your spoils," Lunaria said, placing the weapons on Elian's chest. "Serpent's Fang. Tier 2 weapons. Much better than my Elven short sword, which is too light for your brutal fighting style, and sharper than that scrap dagger you were using."
Elian touched the cold blade with his heavy left hand. The curved design... felt right. This wasn't a noble knight's weapon. This was a murderer's tool. A weapon to tear, hook, and kill within hugging distance.
"I will learn to use them," Elian whispered. "But I can't move my right shoulder yet."
"You have a left hand," Lunaria retorted mercilessly. "Start practicing spinning that weapon with your heavy fingers. If you drop it and slice your own thigh, that's your fault."
***
Two days passed in isolation within the boathouse.
Elian spent his time lying down or sitting, spinning the Karambit in his left hand. At first, due to the ring's weight, he dropped the weapon hundreds of times. His fingers blistered; his wrist cramped severely.
But Elian was stubborn. He pictured Viper's face mocking him. He pictured his own helplessness.
By the third day, Elian could spin the Karambit on his index finger without dropping it, even though sweat the size of corn kernels soaked his forehead.
"Enough," Lunaria said on the afternoon of the third day. "Your shoulder has closed. It still hurts, but you can move it. We have to go out."
"Out?" Elian looked at his teacher in confusion. "Where? We're wanted criminals. The Black Viper gang must be looking for us."
"Exactly. We can't hide in this rat hole forever. We need supplies for the Swamp Ruins," Lunaria tossed Elian his tattered cloak. "And you need to hear for yourself what this city is saying about you."
They slipped out at dusk.
Stormwatch was tense. City guard patrols had doubled. New wanted posters were plastered on walls, but it wasn't Elian's face on them—it was a rough sketch of a cloaked figure.
They walked toward the Underground Market District, where illegal and magical goods were traded.
As they passed a crowded tavern, Elian slowed his pace.
"...I heard Viper was killed by a ghost," a drunk man said loudly.
"Not a ghost, you idiot! It was a hired assassin from Azura!" his friend argued. "How could a mute kid who looks like a girl kill Viper? That must be just a cover."
"But witnesses say the kid hugged Viper as he died! Hugged him like a lover! That's insane!"
Elian looked down, pulling his hood deeper. His hand in his pocket squeezed the hilt of the Karambit.
"They are afraid," Lunaria whispered beside him. "Ignorance creates monsters. To them, 'Eli the Mute' is now an urban legend. Use that fear."
They arrived at a small shop smelling of sulfur and incense. The sign bore only the symbol of an alchemical flask: Gargamel's Alchemy Shop.
Inside, a dwarf (an outcast from his clan) was grinding something in a stone mortar.
"Close the door! The night air ruins my potions!" the Dwarf barked without looking up.
"We need Silver Oil and Holy Salt," Lunaria said, placing several of Viper's looted gold coins on the counter.
The Dwarf stopped grinding. He looked up, his sharp eyes behind thick glasses staring at Lunaria, then shifting to Elian.
"Silver Oil? You hunting Werewolves? Or..." the Dwarf grinned, revealing missing teeth. "...planning a playdate in a graveyard?"
"None of your business," Elian replied. His voice was hoarse and cold.
The Dwarf chuckled. "Kids these days, no manners. But gold is gold."
He went into the back room and returned with two glass bottles of thick silver liquid and a bag of coarse salt that glowed faintly.
"This oil is top quality. Just coat your weapon, and even ghosts will scream if scratched. Lasts for one hour before evaporating," the Dwarf explained. "And this salt... sprinkle it around you if you want to sleep soundly on cursed ground."
"How much?"
"Five gold."
"That's robbery!" Elian protested.
"Take it or leave it. Silver stock is running low because the Celestia Church is buying it all up for their holy war in the West," the Dwarf said indifferently.
Lunaria held Elian's shoulder. "Just pay. We don't have time to haggle."
Elian reluctantly handed over five gold coins—almost half of his loot. He felt the expensive price of preparation.
"Oh, one more thing," the Dwarf pointed at Elian's shoulder. "You smell of dragon blood and Elven medicine. Whoever treated your wound is a genius, but you need this."
The Dwarf tossed a small blue bottle.
"What is this?" Elian caught it.
"Painkiller from Blue Poppy extract. If your shoulder screams in the middle of a fight, take a sip. But not too much, or you'll forget how to breathe."
"Thank you," Elian said, sincere this time.
***
That night, they didn't return to the boathouse. They moved toward the outskirts of the city, toward the Black Swamp stretching east of Stormwatch.
They stopped at the border between hard ground and swamp mud. Thick fog had begun to rise, carrying a chill that pierced the bone.
"Rest here until midnight," Lunaria commanded. "Ghosts and undead are most active during the Witching Hour (3 AM), so we have to enter and reach the ruins before then, while they are still 'drowsy'."
Elian sat on a dead tree root. He took out his new Karambit and the bottle of Silver Oil.
Carefully, he applied the silver liquid to the blade of his new weapon. The liquid hissed softly as it touched the black metal, coating the murder weapon with a contradictory holy sheen.
"Master," Elian called softly.
"Hm?" Lunaria was checking her bowstring.
"Are ghosts... the souls of dead humans?" Elian asked. "Will my victims... Brutus, Viper... become ghosts?"
Lunaria looked at her student. A philosophical question on the verge of a dangerous mission.
"Ghosts are lingering emotions. Hatred, regret, or vengeance so strong it refuses to fade," Lunaria explained. "Brutus and Viper? No. They were trash who died in fear. Their souls shattered instantly. But in the Temple Ruins we are about to enter... that is an ancient tomb from an era before the Empire. The ghosts there have existed for hundreds of years. They are no longer human. They are pure hatred."
Lunaria leaned in, touching the weight ring on Elian's finger.
"Do not hesitate, Elian. Your physical sword might hurt flesh, but your doubt is a crack that ghosts will slip through. If you fear, they will eat your soul. Be empty. Be cold."
Elian nodded. He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the pain in his shoulder and the heaviness in his body.
He imagined he was a stone. Stones felt no pain. Stones feared no ghosts.
When he opened his eyes again, Elian's gaze was sharper.
"I am ready."
Lunaria stood, her cloak billowing in the foul swamp wind.
"Let's go. Let's get that cursed mirror and leave this rotten city."
They stepped into the fog.
Behind them, the lights of Stormwatch slowly disappeared, replaced by the eternal darkness of the Black Swamp. Elian didn't look back. He knew, after tonight, he would never be a "child" again. He was stepping into the supernatural world, where his enemies no longer had blood to spill.