The silence in the waiting hall was absolute. Unwan couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the danger looming over his future, but one thing was clear: returning from The Unknown was a statistical impossibility. How could he, a mere Owner, succeed where even Philosopher-rank Owner had vanished without a trace? He didn't know what kind of things lay in wait, nor what kind of Night Curse had birthed in that place.
Unwan let out a long, heavy sigh, a small spark of resentment flickering in his chest.
'Why is it that the powerful, the elite, and the wealthy are always right? Why must the weak and the lonely always be the ones to suffer? I said it before, and I'll say it again: Power should only belong to the inteligent and the just. But no... reality is never that kind.'
'I told you this once before, on that day. I told you: do not trust humans. They are creatures that bark when leashed and devour one another when set free.'
Slowly, Unwan's anxiety began to ebb, replaced by a cold, hollow acceptance. There was nothing left to be done. He surrendered to the current of fate, ready to walk whatever path it carved for him. A strange indifference washed over him. Why struggle? Only a high-ranking Owner or a member of the Royal Court could revoke a death sentence disguised as a mission, and Unwan had neither the status nor the allies. He was bound for the Unknown.
Unwan turned to the messenger, his voice flat as he sought to clarify the timeline.
— How long do I have before this mission begins? I mean, when exactly must I enter the Ruin?
The messenger looked at him with a bizarre expression, as if thinking, "You fool, shouldn't you at least spend a moment mourning your own life?" Instead, he looked down at the parchment.
— By noon tomorrow. Two guards will escort you from here at ten in the morning.
Unwan stood up slowly and headed toward the training hall. The eyes of the cohort followed him, not with pity, but with a mixture of lingering hatred and a twisted sense of satisfaction at his misfortune.
Before opening the door, Unwan paused as a thought struck him.
— Captain Odey, will I be provided with a backpack and a sword for my first mission into the Night Curse?
— Yes.
— Good. And one more thing... do you have a language of Runes dictionary?
— I have one. I'll leave everything in your room.
— Thank you.
With those final words, Unwan disappeared into the training hall. Once he was gone, the messenger requested permission to leave and vanished down the corridor. Immediately, the room erupted into hushed conversation. Harde spoke first.
— Captain, are we really keeping such an idiot in our cohort? We should cut him loose before he becomes an even bigger headache.
— No. He is already a member. There is nothing we can do now. The only thing left is to give him whatever guidance we can before he goes. I've already shared what I know about Night creatures and martial arts. Now, everything depends on his luck, his wits, and his Grimoire.
— But we all know The Unknown isn't just some ordinary place. How is it possible that such a damn location isn't even on the Night Curse map? Is it across the ocean? No, that's impossible. Based on the other Ruins, it should be near the Crimson East. But there's nothing there. We've scouted that area ourselves multiple times.
— Let's stop debating its location and think about how we can actually help him. Slor, any ideas? The boy was smart enough to ask for a pack, a sword, and a Runic guide. He's even in the hall practicing right now. Regardless of what happened, he's one of us. We have to help.
Slor remained silent, clearly displeased with the situation. Instead, the quiet girl spoke up.
— Perhaps we should provide him with armor. It might buy him a little time. Isn't it a good idea, at least until he finds an Armor-type Page?
— It would be, but we have less than a day. Finding armor that fits him in that time is nearly impossible.
"What if we give him a better sword?" Slor muttered reluctantly.
— Well... I could find him a 15% Themir Tachi, or maybe a 17% if I push my luck. But nothing higher. You know how rare Themir is, members of the cohort don't just give away high-percentage weapons.
A heavy silence fell over the room. No one else offered an idea. It was as if, deep down, they were already treating him like a ghost.
Meanwhile, Unwan emerged from the training hall, his body drenched in sweat. He had pushed himself to the limit, performing over five hundred kata with his tachi. Yet, the movements still felt crooked and strange to him. It was as if something vital was missing.
After a long, hot shower that eased the tension in his muscles, he retreated to his room and sat on the floor to meditate. The room was modest, similar to his academy quarters. On the table lay his equipment: a backpack, a belt with a scabbard holding a crimson-colored tachi, a thick book, and his floating Grimoire. Inside the pack were essentials, a compass, a small magical iron lighter, and some parchment.
Unwan stared at his spells and his Grimoire, trying to find the missing link he had overlooked. But once again, it eluded him.
He stood up, gripped the hilt of the red sword, and spoke to his reflection in the blade.
— So, they call this a chance, do they? How pathetic. You've left me an opening, and though no one believes I'll walk out of that place, I will survive. I'll try to survive. I will fight to stay alive. It doesn't matter how heavy the path is, it doesn't matter how agonizing the path is. It's important to me not to become just another victim of your games.
What's important to me is to use that game of yours against yourself.
He drew the sword. The crimson steel of the tachi reflected his eyes, cold and determined.
— After all... weren't you the ones who said the victors write history and the powerful define the truth?
Even the voice within him remained silent this time.
***
The next day, two guards escorted Unwan toward the Ruin of The Unknown. Despite the distance, they arrived in less than two hours. Before them stood a blood-red archway, crumbling and ancient. It was etched with runes that differed wildly from any Unwan had studied. Inside the arch was nothing but a flat, featureless void of pitch-black darkness. The area was heavily barricaded, marking the literal end of the known road.
With his backpack secured and his Grimoire floating beside him, Unwan took a deep breath and stepped into the void.
They stepped into a strange, empty space. There was nothing, only Unwan and his Grimoire. Suddenly, a voice resonated through the emptiness:
[Unwanted... Welcome to the Night Curse: The Uncontrollable One.]
In the next heartbeat, Unwan felt himself falling to the ground.