Chapter 4

  HOW TO LOSE YOUR SOUL IN TEN PAGES OR LESS (2)

  After parting ways with Elsie, Ken ventured separately in search of any magical artifact or tool that could help refine the excavated ore. But despite scouring the area, Ken found nothing of use.

  Just as he turned to leave, he noticed a faint glow emanating from his pocket. Startled, he reached in and retrieved the ore.

  It glowed with a pulsating violet hue, thin tendrils of purple haze spiraling from it like smoke dancing.

  Curious, Ken waved the ore around—and the glow always seemed to intensify when pointed in a specific direction. Almost as if the ore was reacting to something present there.

  “Is it reacting to something nearby? Or... does this ore have a magical affinity that’s awakening?” Ken murmured to himself, his eyes narrowing with intrigue.

  Trusting the ore’s strange guidance, he followed where the glow grew strongest. The deeper he went, the more intense the glow became.

  But just when the purple haze began to swirl furiously, a loud crash split the silence.

  Instinctively, Ken rushed toward the sound—only to round a corner and nearly collide with Elsie, who was completely out of breath.

  “Prince—!” Elsie gasped, pressing a hand to her breastplate, trying hard to catch her breath. “Z-Zombies! They’re everywhere! We need to run—now!”

  Ken blinked. “Zombies? Are you sure?”

  Ken’s mind raced.

  ‘Zombies? Why would the Magic Tower use undead to guard this place? Could Elsie have mistaken them for something else? Maybe a protective illusion spell?’ Ken thought, trying to make sense of it.

  But before he could process more, a horde of mindless, hollow-eyed figures clad in mage uniforms emerged from the corridor behind them, letting out guttural howls.

  “Shit. Zombies.” Ken muttered instinctively, the sight of the lifeless figures, triggering memories of all the apocalypse movies he had watched in his previous life.

  No other words were needed. The two took off, running faster than they ever had.

  “I am sorry prince this mission was meant to be covert.” Elsie muttered between breaths, her voice tinged with regret. “We only got caught because I was careless and now…”

  “If we can make it to the gate and shut the arcane vault, we might be able to trap them inside.” Ken shouted over his shoulder, ensuring the zombie-like mages had still not caught up to them.

  “Yes, Prince.”

  As soon as they burst through the inner chamber of the vault, the arcane control node came into view. Once Elsie was out, Ken skidded to a halt and slammed his hand down on the lever. A surge of magic pulsed as the vault gate began to close with a thunderous grind.

  Just as Ken began to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking he had a moment to plan his next step, a cold metallic shing froze him in place—a longsword had come to rest against his neck.

  “Don’t move.” A commanding voice rang out. “Who are you, and how did you enter this place?”

  Before he could speak, Elsie moved. In one swift, fluid motion, her sword flashed outward, arcs of thunder magic crackling along its edge.

  With a deafening clang, she knocked the blade away from Ken’s neck and stepped protectively in front of him, her face contorted with fury.

  “Step back!” Elsie snarled, eyes blazing as she faced their assailant. “You won’t harm him!”

  Their attacker held her ground.

  She was striking—long blonde hair cascading down her back, eyes like blades of divine judgment, and a sword glowing with unmistakable holy light. The pressure radiating from her presence was overwhelming—enough to make even Elsie’s knees tremble slightly.

  Just as the woman raised her blade to strike—

  “Wait—!” A second figure stepped forward. Her voice cracked, not with fear, but with recognition. “Is that you... Kevin? One of our students?”

  The blonde swordswoman hesitated. The glow of her weapon flickered, and the fury in her expression faltered—for just a heartbeat.

  Elsie blinked at the name and turned to glance back at her master.

  “...”

  For a moment, Ken looked confused. Then, jogging his memory, he recalled the face of the woman with pink hair.

  “Miss Fillia.”

  Fillia blinked, her expression softening slightly. “So, it is you, Kevin.” she murmured, then turned to her companion. “You can lower your sword, Lilliana. He was one of my students—two years ago.”

  Lilliana, however, didn’t waver. Her blade remained firm, still pointed at Elsie, who hadn’t dropped her stance either.

  “But why would a student of Grindelwald be here? I don’t think he’s affiliated with the Magic Tower.”

  “I can explain.” Ken said quickly. “We’re on a quest from the Adventurer’s Guild... but we got lost and ended up here.” Ken showed Lilliana the quest paper with the adventurer’s guild stamp.

  Both Fillia and Lilliana exchanged wary glances, not entirely convinced.

  Still, Fillia remembered Kevin well as one of her brightest and promising students. Though he remained quiet throughout his academic year, but performed flawlessly in all the subjects. She wanted to believe he wasn’t here with malicious intent.

  Before any of them could continue, a deafening thump slammed against the sealed gate behind them.

  “The zombies are here.” Elsie said, her voice tense.

  “Zombies? What are you talking about, girl?” Lilliana demanded.

  “You tell me!” Elsie snapped back. “Only creeps and out-of-their-mind mages would leave zombies roaming around like it’s normal!”

  Suddenly, the ore in Ken’s hand began to glow once again—bathed in that same eerie purple hue.

  “Kreeee…“

  At that exact moment, the red phoenix that Fillia and Lilliana had been tracking let out a deafening screech. With a sharp dive, it flew straight into the ore stone held in Ken’s hand, igniting a fierce blaze of light.

  Both the phoenix and the stone vanished. In their place, a crimson scroll dropped gently to the ground.

  Fillia and Lilliana rushed forward to retrieve it.

  This time, the scroll was not blank. Bold letters scorched themselves into the parchment's center.

  —The Grimoire of Hollow.

  “That can’t be…” Fillia muttered.

  “There’s no way…” Lilliana added, stunned.

  “What does it say?” Ken asked, unable to hide his curiosity. Elsie leaned in as well.

  “Kid, what was that stone?” Fillia asked sharply. She looked ready to grab Ken by the collar, but Elsie sensed her agitation and swiftly stepped between them once more.

  “I think… the stone must have absorbed the magical energy radiating from the zombies when we were inside the vault. And then the phoenix must have reacted to that energy.” Ken replied.

  “Can you tell what the zombies looked like to you and from where they appeared?” Fillia asked.

  “There was a secret chamber that opened by itself. And mindless looking mages started creeping out and chasing us.”

  “Is this what father was warning us about. Then that means the curse is not fully active, and its effect is currently limited to the tower only. That’s why we didn’t see anyone. Maybe they have already succumbed to the effects of the curse.” Fillia concluded.

  “If that thing is really behind it all, and somehow it escaped the containment… We don’t have time to stand here and think.” Lilliana’s voice trembled. “If we delay any longer, then everyone in this tower—no, this entire city—is in danger.”

  “We need to tell this to Justin and evacuate everyone who has still not been influenced by the curse.” Fillia said urgently. “Before it’s too late.”

  “Then let’s not waste another second.” Lilliana said firmly. “Big sister, we should head straight to the lowest level of the basement ruins and burn that damn thing this time.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.” Fillia nodded and turned to Ken. “You two need to go to the highest floor of the tower and report everything you saw here. Meet the vice tower master, and once he knows the full situation, he’ll know what to do.”

  “Wait, why are you deciding that for us?” Elise objected. She didn’t want to drag her prince into danger—especially if it could put his life at risk.

  “Let’s just do as they say, Elsie. It’s probably for the best.” Ken said quietly, then looked at Fillia. “But, ma’am, how are we supposed to climb the tower?”

  He knew they had already been discovered infiltrating the tower. If there was any chance of leniency, it would be to help them—and having Lady Fillia vouch for them might be the only way to avoid severe punishment.

  Fillia took out her tower insignia and entrusted it to Ken. “With this, you will be able to get to the top floor. Once you show it to the vice tower master, he will believe what you say.”

  “Got it.”

  “Be safe both of you. And evacuate safely with others once you are done.” Fillia said to Ken and Elsie before they both separated on their way.

  ◇◇◇

  As the levitating pod glided smoothly along the arcane rails, ascending the spiraling height of the Magic Tower, Ken and Elsie stood in heavy silence.

  Elsie finally broke the quiet. “Prince… you knew what was written in that scroll.”

  Ken didn’t answer right away. His gaze remained locked on the shimmering cityscape that sprawled below them.

  “Yes. The Grimoire of Hollow is a cursed relic. They had it sealed away even before the Great Wars began. But I don’t know what triggered it to awaken now.”

  Elsie crossed her arms. “What does that thing even do, prince? Why would anyone risk unleashing it?”

  “I don’t know.” Ken’s tone sharpened slightly with frustration.

  The only reason Ken even recognized the relic was because it had once appeared on Erebus’s list of playthings.

  That connection alone made Ken uneasy. He didn’t want to believe Erebus—or someone linked to him—was behind this. Ever since the two had gone their separate ways, Erebus had vanished, likely off weaving his own schemes.

  From what Ken could remember, this particular curse book was one of the deadliest ever known. It had once erased an entire ancient magical city—the very foundation on which Arcadia now stood.

  No one truly understood the book’s nature or its power. All that remained in the records were dire warnings for everyone to keep their hands off it.

  “Is anyone here?” Elsie called out in a light tone as she pushed open the enormous door at the top of the Magic Tower.

  She hadn’t accounted for the structure of the final dome—the acoustics carried her voice across the vast observatory, making it echo unnaturally.

  “Who goes there?” A voice called out.

  Ken and Elsie spotted a man standing near the edge of the circular observatory, clad in a black Arcadia’s signature mage uniform. He stood silently, hands behind his back, staring out at the crimson-tinted sky through the transparent glass dome above.

  The world outside looked like it had been drenched in blood—starkly different from the pleasant weather Ken and Elsie had seen when entering the tower.

  “What brings you here?” the man asked without turning around.

  “Are you the Vice Tower Master?” Elsie asked, looking around. The office was empty except for him.

  “Tch… So now even children can barge into my office. I'm getting all sorts of bothersome visitors today.”

  “Miss Fillia sent us.” Elsie said. “They said the Book of Hollow—has returned. And there are zombie-like mages roaming everywhere. Shouldn’t you do something about this?”

  “And where are those two now?” The supposedly vice tower master turned slowly as he finally faced his new guests, his sharp features became visible—stoic and stern, though younger than Miss Fillia.

  “The two ladies said they were heading to the hidden ruins at the bottom of the tower to stop whatever awakened the curse!” Elsie answered eagerly, as if inviting him to join the mission.

  “So they ignored my warning and sent two kids in their place. Those troublesome women. Haaa…” The man’s cold expression cracked into a dry laugh.

  “Elsie, you said the zombies came from a hidden chamber? Did it feel like they were intentionally being kept hidden there?” Ken asked suddenly, lowering his voice, though his eyes glinted with suspicion.

  Elsie blinked, then slowly nodded. “Yeah… it definitely felt like they were trapped there on purpose. Like someone really didn’t want them discovered.”

  She tilted her head, squinting at Ken. “Wait—how did you know that?” At this point, Elsie was sure that her prince might even have psychic powers to read someone’s mind.

  Ken’s jaw clenched. He stepped closer, his boots crunching against the stones of the floor. “Then the grimoire’s awakening… it wasn’t a coincidence. This was all planned.”

  “Wait.” Elsie’s eyes widened, her voice trembling with realization. “You think someone planned this?”

  Ken’s gaze was cold. “The one behind this mess… had always been inside the tower.”

  The vice tower master gave a crooked smile. “Smart kids... a little too smart for your own good. But sometimes knowing too much gets you—burned.”

  Next moment, without warning, a massive magic circle ignited beneath Elsie and Ken’s feet. Purple flames erupted, surrounding them in an instant.

  But Ken was ready.

  With a swift motion, he conjured a barrier of black steel, shielding them from the inferno. The flames hissed against the metal before dispersing into sparks.

  Then, without missing a beat, the black metal shield shifted — its surface morphing into sharp spikes that launched straight at the vice master of the magic tower.

  Justin barely dodged, eyes widening. “What kind of magic is this? It creates physical matter that absorbs and reshapes magic... Is it some kind of special bloodline magic? I've never seen anything like it.”

  “You talk too much.” Elsie said coldly.

  Using the momentary distraction, she vanished behind the black metal spikes, keeping her movements silent and precise.

  She only revealed herself when she was close enough to strike. With her thunder magic surging through her limbs, her speed became blinding — too fast for even the vice tower master to react in time.

  Her blade sang through the air, targeting his exposed side.

  But the moment her blade struck—

  FWOOOSH!

  A translucent flame ignited around the vice tower master’s body, melting her weapon like wax.

  “Nice try.” he said calmly, barely glancing at the scorched remains of her sword. “I applaud you for having the gall to think you could attack the Vice Tower Master. But that’s the limit of your strength.”

  Elsie, at the same time, was repelled back. Ken caught her mid-air with a slab of steel that unfolded from the floor like a shield.

  “If you’re the one behind this stupidity, then I’ll crush you. You’re our ticket out of this mess—whether you like it or not.” Elsie snarled. “We’re not letting you escape.”

  Elsie now blamed the vice tower master, since it was his zombies that led to them being caught.

  “Escape?” the man laughed. “You still don’t get it. I’m not your enemy—not today. In fact, I think it’s time I paid a little visit to my dear sisters.”

  “You’re not going anywhere!” Ken snapped.

  “I don’t have time to waste on you two.” the vice master said with disdain. “So why don’t you keep the elders of the Magic Tower company for a bit?”

  Justin raised his tower insignia—reserved for the highest ranks within the tower. As its central wheel rotated, a mechanism clicked somewhere above them. A hidden chamber at the top of the observatory began to open.

  “Why don’t you say these oldies hello for me.” he said with a twisted grin. “We’ll talk… if you survive.”

  A sudden flash of light tore through the room—and just like that, he was gone.

  With a final flick of the insignia, Justin had teleported himself out of reach.

  “Damn it… he escaped.” Elsie muttered, scowling.

  Ken remained composed, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. With a subtle gesture, he signaled Elsie to fall back and regroup beside him.

  Before them now stood five elders of the Magic Tower.

  They loomed in silence — still and lifeless, their eyes hollow, unfocused, like puppets severed from their strings yet still moving.

  “Are they strong?” Elsie asked, drawing her blade.

  Ken narrowed his gaze. “Not if we bring them down methodically.”

  He could sense it — this was just a diversion. A ploy by the vice master to buy himself time and stall them here while he puts his plan in motion.

  All he could now hope was that his teacher could resolve this situation on their own.

  And yet…

  A strange unease tugged at the back of Ken’s mind.

  A name... a face...

  ‘Why do I feel like I am forgetting someone really important in the middle of all this chaos?’

  ◇◇◇

  “Was it okay to entrust such a crucial task to a pair of kids?” Lilliana asked, her voice echoing off the cold stone walls as they descended deeper into the ancient ruin.

  “If we hesitate now, more lives will be lost.” Fillia replied without looking back. “That boy… even though he kept to himself during his time at Grindelwald, I saw something in his eyes. He’s not just strong—he’s resilient. So, I think we can trust him for now.”

  Lilliana smirked faintly. “His companion wasn’t half-bad either. Feisty little thing.”

  A rare smile flickered across Lilliana’s lips.

  They pressed onward, racing through the sprawling underbelly of the tower—the legendary ruins upon which the Arcadian Magic Tower stood.

  This place wasn’t just old—it was dangerous. A dungeon crawling with monsters and ancient remnants of a lost magical empire on top of which the current Arcadia was built.

  Mages often trained here, honing their skills in live combat against the beasts that roamed the upper levels. However, the final floors were strictly forbidden—off-limits to all but the Tower Masters.

  A powerful seal, bound by the Tower's control artifact, ensured no unauthorized soul could even hope to enter.

  But for these two, it was nothing more than a stroll.

  Lilliana moved with supernatural ease, slicing through beasts that dared block their path, while the mage Fillia incinerated any faraway approaching monsters and disabled traps with graceful precision.

  The reason was pretty simple.

  They had conquered these depths before—Fillia at the small age of twelve, and Lilliana at thirteen. Now, the ruins barely slowed them down.

  In less than fifteen minutes, they arrived at the lowest floor.

  Unlike the rest of the ruin, the chamber on the last floor was entirely man-made. A sacred hall reinforced and reshaped for one sole purpose: to seal away the unspeakable horror that had once destroyed the magical city that preceded Arcadia.

  At its heart stood an enormous dividing wall, carved with ancient glyphs showing the horror that struck the previous magical empire.

  Fillia exhaled slowly, steeling herself. “We don’t even know what that cursed book is truly capable of. Be careful, Lilliana.”

  Her sister gave a small nod, her expression serious now. “You too, big sis.”

  They stepped forward.

  Even their confident footsteps seemed hesitant here, swallowed by the eerie stillness.

  Neither of them had ever seen the grimoire. Even their father—one of the original Tower Masters—had only rarely spoken about its existence.

  And the history books? They barely dared mention its name, as if afraid the mere act of writing it down might summon its wrath.

  “The grimoire that devours ―Life. Magic. Memory. Flesh. Fear. Madness. Echo. Silence. That turns thought into dust. That hollowed the minds of mages far stronger than us.”

  That was how the ancient ruins described the forbidden book.

  ―Grimoire of Hollow.

  “Who goes there?” Lilliana’s voice echoed sharply through the vast chamber, her instincts flaring. She could sense it—someone was already in the hall.

  Fillia’s steps halted as she narrowed her eyes. It was supposed to be sealed. No one else should’ve been able to enter before them.

  Then, with a low hum, the magical torches lining the chamber flared to life one by one, casting eerie shadows on the ancient walls. Near the base of the containment wall, a lone figure stood calmly—familiar and yet out of place.

  “…Justin.”

  “Justin?” Lilliana called out, her voice caught between confusion and suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

  He turned to face them slowly, his expression unreadable. Unreliably calm.

  “Did you receive the message the kids passed along?” Fillia asked quietly. “Then you already know. The grimoire’s curse energy has begun to seep through the entire tower. Most of the mages have already fallen under its spell. Their minds aren’t their own anymore.” Fillia said, stepping forward. “Let’s check the seal together. We need to contain the curse before it spreads further!”

  But Justin raised a hand.

  “You shouldn’t have come.” he said flatly. “There are better places to enjoy a vacation, sisters. Go. While you still have the chance. I’ll take care of things here.”

  Lilliana narrowed her eyes, stepping protectively in front of her sister. “What did you do to the kids, Justin?”

  “They’re in good hands.” he replied with a cold smile. “You entrusted them to me, remember?”

  Fillia’s heart dropped. “Justin… where’s Father? What are you hiding? I didn’t want to believe it, but… are you really the one behind all of this?”

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  Fillia’s voice trembled, not out of fear, but heartbreak.

  But Justin didn’t answer. He raised his hand, and the ground beneath them shuddered.

  A wave of cursed sigils flared to life, spinning in a spiral beneath Fillia and Lilliana. Chains of black energy burst from the floor, aiming to bind their limbs and sap their magic.

  A curse field.

  “Justin!” Lilliana shouted, unsheathing her blade. “So, you really have turned to curse magic!”

  “Call it what you will.” Justin said coolly. “But this is the only way forward.”

  Lilliana’s sword lit with divine brilliance, manifesting a blazing gold aura that cut through the binding cursed chains. She dashed forward, her blade slicing through the sigils, breaking the curse formation to stop Justin.

  Justin staggered slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’ve grown stronger…”

  “And you’ve grown twisted.” Lilliana said, her voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “How could you use this vile magic? You were supposed to protect the tower… not become the reason it falls.”

  Justin’s expression didn’t change—but his silence spoke volumes.

  He raised his other hand—a second formation burst above, this time summoning spears of cursed flame that rained from above.

  “Justin, stop this madness.” Lilliana heads towards Justin with the intent to kill, while Justin sticks to completing his curse formation and let the chaos fall.

  Both were determined to hurt the other.

  “Enough! Both of you!” A voice like crashing crystal rang out.

  The entire hall shuddered as Fillia, who had until now watched in silence, finally stepped forward.

  Her presence expanded in an instant—a blinding explosion of magic that radiated from her body in a brilliant flare. Warm pink light surged outward, filling the space with unbearable pressure. Causing the floor to crack beneath her feet.

  Justin froze mid-chant. Lilliana staggered, her aura dimming.

  “Fillia...” Lilliana breathed, her blade trembling in her hands.

  Justin glared back as he was unable to concentrate on accumulating curse energy under such high pressure.

  Without missing a beat, Fillia raised her hand, elegant circles of radiant magic burst into existence around her, forming in the air like blooming lotus flowers.

  Above them, a hundred cursed spears conjured by Justin’s magic spiraled into the air. In the next heartbeat, Fillia’s magic collided with them—explosions of pink and violet lit the sky as her spell shattered the dark weapons with precise, devastating bursts of mana.

  Justin winced. He knew—no, he feared—his elder sister.

  He knew this side of her. The one that didn’t miss.

  The one who always saw through every spell before it was even cast.

  Fillia could read his spells before he even finished casting them, countering with surgical precision. Justin paused, holding back his next incantation, silently preparing for the next opening.

  “Justin,” Fillia spoke, her voice trembling—not with fear, but restrained wrath. The warmth that once colored her voice had vanished. “This time, I won’t hold back.” Her eyes, once soft, now cut like blades. “Why?” she demanded. “Why did you betray us?”

  Even Justin, cloaked in the darkness of villainy, hesitated at the look on her face.

  The floor glowed—no, throbbed—with light. New magic circles—massive, layered, unstable—had begun to appear beneath her feet, above their heads, on the walls. These vast, complex magic circles now covered the entire hall.

  Even Justin’s smile faltered.

  These were one of Fillia’s specialties―explosive magic circles strong enough to topple the magic tower if she detonated them at the same time.

  “You really sure you want to do this, big sister Fillia. You both shouldn’t have come here.” Justin looked from Fillia to Lilliana. “If you really want to know, it was me who started all this. I was the one who tampered with the seal and opened the cursed book, and now, I’ll claim it. You’re no longer needed. Though I promise once I’ve finished here, I’ll welcome you with open arms in the tower.”

  Fillia simply smiled.

  A moment later, the massive magic circle on the ceiling detonated.

  The explosion was deafening. Justin and Lilliana barely had time to shield themselves, casting powerful auras and barriers as the impact rocked the dungeon.

  The ground quaked. Walls cracked and crumbled. Debris rained from above, sealing the exit in an avalanche of stone and dust.

  It was Fillia’s silent declaration: No one leaves without her permission.

  Justin and Lilliana quickly realized what was happening.

  Fillia always did this. Whenever the three fought, it was an old childhood habit of Fillia to end it by overwhelming both of them—together.

  “You’re still the same, big sister...” Justin muttered, coughing through the dust.

  “Now answer me, Justin—where is Father?” Fillia’s aura flared once more. “This is your final chance. Because the next spell I set off...” Her voice dropped low, dangerous. “I can’t promise what will fall next.”

  “I can't answer that.” Justin said softly. His voice was firm, but there was a slight shake—like he was holding back something. Guilt, maybe…

  “And why is that? Are you insane?!” Lilliana snapped, stepping forward, her holy blade quivering with frustration. “Do you have a death wish?! Don’t drag me into this madness! You know big sis will bury both of us here alive without hesitation if you keep provoking her!”

  Lilliana threw a panicked glance at Fillia—her once-gentle sister now stood like an executioner cloaked in pink flames, with an expression that could kill.

  But Justin didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked up, and for a moment… he just looked tired.

  “Do whatever you want. It won’t matter in the end.” He exhaled. “Do you even know how Father felt Fillia, the day you told him you were leaving the Magic Tower?”

  That silenced the hall.

  “He didn’t say anything, did he? That’s just like him.” Justin continued. “He didn’t show it, but that was the first time… I saw him truly sad. And then Lilliana followed in your footsteps, chasing her own destiny.”

  “Justin… what are you saying? Did Father really…?” Lilliana's voice trembled.

  “After the two of you left, Father changed. He grew quieter, more distant with each passing day. Everyone in the Magic Tower always believed you, Fillia, would inherit the mantle of Tower Master.”

  Justin’s fists clenched.

  “But once you two were gone, and I became the next strongest… everything fell on me. The responsibilities, the expectations. But none of the elders, none of the mages believed in me. Not when they had seen you—the prodigy. You were the pride of the Flame Emperor. The Rose Flame.”

  “I didn’t know you were so obsessed with dramatic titles.” Lilliana burst into a laugh, teasing her younger brother.

  “Lilliana, quiet.” Fillia said firmly, eyes still locked on Justin.

  Justin looked away. His voice softened—just a little.

  “I’m tired. I never wanted this war between us. I don’t want you or Lilliana to get hurt. I know I cannot stop you both since you are stronger than me. But I want to still protect you. I don’t want to hurt either of your feelings by seeing what’s behind this wall. So please… go.”

  Fillia’s eyes widened.

  “There’s still time before he arrives to collect the Grimoire.” Justin's tone darkened as he spoke of the unseen threat. “I’ll stop him. I’ll save Father. I’ll protect the city. Alone.”

  He turned, walking back toward the containment wall behind which the cursed grimoire was sealed.

  “And maybe then... maybe then I’ll finally be worthy of being called the next Tower Master.”

  A long silence followed.

  Then Fillia stepped forward, her expression unreadable, her aura burning quietly like embers ready to ignite.

  “You fool. There’s no way I am leaving my little brother behind when someone is trying to bully him.” Fillia whispered.

  The pink flames that had till then burned like punishment now shimmered like a protective halo.

  “How did you even manage to go full circle from villainy to emotional heart-to-heart talk. No matter what is causing you pain.” Lilliana said, cracking her knuckles. “I’ll kick his ass, for you little brother.”

  “I’m not your little brother.” Justin muttered, but the weight behind his words had faded, softened by something he hadn’t felt in a long time—comfort.

  “Right, right.” Lilliana grinned, poking him lightly on the shoulder. “I’m only two months older, but still older. So, deal with it. And depend on us for once, alright?”

  For a moment, the tension in the room settled. The heavy magic in the air still shimmered, but a fragile thread of warmth wove itself between the three.

  Suddenly, the ground trembled—violently this time.

  The temperature plummeted in an instant. A surge of malevolent, chilling energy swept through the air. A low, guttural hum echoed through the hall.

  Then, with a sharp sound, a crack splintered across the containment wall, hesitating for a heartbeat before tearing open with sudden ferocity.

  From the center of the fractured seal, darkness began to seep out—not as shadow, but as a thick, oozing liquid, the very embodiment of pure malice.

  The cursed book—the Grimoire of Hollow—was awakening.

  Justin’s eyes widened.

  “This is early. It’s not supposed to be awake yet!”

  ◇◇◇

  “How dare a mere human try to harm me? Impossible! I am the Fourth Apostle from the Realm of Darkness—Blightmar. And now that you’ve crossed paths with an apostle, you should abandon all hope. Because no god will heed your prayers. No salvation awaits you.”

  His voice thundered despite the visible damage to his body—a body I had already torn apart with a reverse curse technique.

  Yet he still carried himself with the arrogance of a superior being. Nevertheless, I might have given him extra points for that well-prepared introduction.

  His words were meant to invoke fear. But all I could do was blink at something even more inviting.

  “Wooow... wooow... this is amazing!” I whispered under my breath, eyes shimmering. My heart raced, but not out of terror but from sheer, wild excitement.

  The hidden chamber of the tower’s forbidden library was everything I had dreamed of. Shelves were tightly packed with cursed tomes, forbidden books, and grimoires.

  “The Grimoire of Twisted Oaths.”

  “The Tome of Crumbling Souls.”

  “The Forbidden Book of Ashen Pacts.”

  Each title sent a cold thrill down my spine. I could feel a dense concentration of black malice and dark energy radiating from them.

  “What are you doing, girl?! I was finally answering your question!” Blightmar, the fourth Apostle, barked, confused and enraged.

  “Sure. And I’m Alicia—a magical genius.” I replied with a grin, turning to the Apostle and returning to checking out the books on the shelves.

  I was happy to hear that my suspicion was not unfounded, and I had got hold of the right person to answer my questions.

  Still, I couldn’t help being distracted. These cursed books… they were the real reason I came to the magic tower. And now I had finally found them.

  “This one looks promising...” I said aloud, pulling a thick, bound volume from the shelf. “The Codex of the Wrathful One.”

  Blightmar’s aura snapped like a whip. “How dare you mock me human by ignoring me!”

  Blightmar roared, his mouth unhinging into four grotesque sections. He exhaled a swirling, blackish-purple flame.

  And then, in a single horrifying moment, everything ignited. The flames engulfed the library, incinerating the entire collection of books in a heartbeat.

  “No—wait!” I lunged forward, hand outstretched. But the book I had just touched with such awe turned to ash, burning mid-air in a flash of violet light.

  Then, like a vacuum, the devil apostle inhaled the cursed fire back into himself—his broken body regenerating from the dark energy it carried.

  “At least you should have let me keep that one...” I whispered, stunned.

  “See? This is what happens when you cross me. Haaa… Haaa… Now, I’ll reduce you to oblivion as well.”

  “That book…” My gaze dropped to the scorched floor. “It was a get-well-soon gift. For someone very dear to me. And now…”

  I raised my head. “You’ve ruined it.”

  Blightmar tilted his head, amused. “You thought I would be scared if you were able to pull a fast one on me. But that doesn’t matter. You clearly possess some curse-repelling artifact. That’s the only plausible reason you survived. I can’t even sense any kind of strong magic from you. No presence. You are just a brat playing mage.”

  “I was trying to be polite and mindful until now.” I said, my voice rising with every word. “―Trying to keep the chaos to a minimum. If you had answered my questions after I picked out the gift, we could have gone our separate ways.”

  “I’ll give you credit for staying calm in the face of death. But now I’ll kill you in the most brutal way imaginable.” The devil apostle did not heed my warning.

  I stood up from the ground, still wondering what to do now that all the cursed books had been burned—and I had no idea how to find a gift for my dad.

  “By the Godless Interval, I summon your end, ―Heartbane Silence, where the eternity between two heartbeats rests.” The devil repeated the invocation of the curse, chanting the activation words.

  To complete the next step of the curse ritual, the devil pierced his very own chest with a bare hand, ripping out a still-beating heart. Blood dripped from its fingers as it held the throbbing organ before me.

  He smiled—jagged teeth glistening beneath lips stained red.

  “Do you know what this is?” the devil apostle asked.

  I stood motionless, silent—refusing to play into his performance.

  His eye twitched with frustration. Maybe my indifference had bruised its pride.

  “Tch. Fine.” he said, his voice darkening. “Let me show you.”

  The devil began to squeeze the heart rhythmically. He squeezed the heart once. Then twice.

  Pressing faster with each passing second.

  With each pulse, my own heartbeat raced. I staggered back, clutching my chest as though something was dragging my heart into rhythm with the cursed heart in front of me.

  Then—he stopped. His grip loosened.

  My heart slowed. My vision dimmed. My body felt icy as the warmth drained from my veins.

  “You understand now?” the devil whispered, smiling wickedly.

  He repeated the same exercise for amusement while trying to flex his power.

  “Your heart is no longer under your control. From the moment my curse touched you, it was over for you. I can stretch the time between your heartbeats—from seconds to days, years, centuries. Even a millennium. Imagine the agony of being suspended in the void between dying and death. Your soul will be stretched thin in that godless interval until you can no longer recognize your rotting body and mind. Can you feel it now? The despair, little girl!”

  He pressed the heart again. Harder.

  My body went rigid. My veins felt like they were expanding and collapsing all at once. He watched with fascination—no, with certainty—as if he already saw me as his broken doll.

  But then—

  He flinched.

  A sharp, electric jolt surged from the heart in his hand. His eyes widened.

  Something was wrong. The devil instantly realized, but he couldn’t identify the source of his uneasiness.

  Instead of watching me crumble… something else happened.

  He looked at the very heart in his hand—its flesh began to tighten unnaturally. A pulse not his own thundered from within, and his exaggerated hands trembled.

  “W-What—what is this!?”

  The heart constricted, then burst, exploding into a blossom of blood and sinew.

  In the gore remains, a fine, near-invisible white thread glistened in the blood—thin as a spider silk web.

  I stepped forward, hand raised. Thin threads danced along my fingers, like a marionette’s strings dangling in the air.

  “No—NO!” he screamed.

  Then—crack!

  The body of the devil began collapsing inward, bones snapping, limbs contorting, like a puppet crushed under invisible strings.

  I pulled my web back, staring coldly at the grotesque corpse sprawled before me.

  “If you think I’d let my guard down just because you look dead… you’re a fool.” I just wanted to give him a heads-up in case he thought I didn’t know that the body he was using was just a host.

  The stillness didn’t last. Suddenly, the air thickened.

  From the corpse, a dark, hazy form began to rise—a mist-like specter clothed in shadows, its head now a swirling mass of dark purple smoke, like a puff of cotton ball.

  “You… what did you do?” the devil’s voice cracked—no longer confident, but shrill, almost broken.

  “It’s a secret art.” I replied, smirking. “A curse I learned from my father’s library. I call it the Voodoo’s Web Doll.”

  “But―that’s impossible… You lie… no human can overwrite my curse!”

  “Of course, overwriting a curse is one of the most difficult feats in magic.” I said, stepping forward as the haze of the devil's form quivered. “But for a magical genius like me, there are no limits.”

  The devil snarled, its smoke-like head writhing with disbelief.

  “You should know the rule by now—saying a curse can’t be overwritten isn’t absolute just because the majority can’t do it. It's not just about casting a new curse. It’s about precision. Analyzing and then layering the new curse over top of the original curse without causing any change in its original architecture.”

  I narrowed my eyes, realizing the risky move I had made — turning myself into a voodoo doll and using the devil’s host body as the target. So, when the devil apostle activated his own curse on me, its effects were reflected back onto him through my webs.

  But I knew I could pull it off — and what better target than a devil curse user. Otherwise, not even a hero-class would survive it, and I would never find out if this modified and improved magic spell of mine actually worked.

  “Of course, the reason why your curse didn’t take full effect and most people can’t overwrite a curse is because doing that in such a short time is almost impossible.”

  The devil flinched at that word―almost.

  “But I didn’t take just one path. I took both.”

  The mist around the devil’s head recoiled slightly.

  “I overloaded your curse with ten times the magical pressure—matched in intensity and structure. And then... I nullified it entirely by layering one of my own curses over it. A simple little trick I usually save for the sly monsters in my neighborhood garden back in my house.”

  The devil’s form flickered, its voice rising in panic. “That’s… that’s impossible. No human should be able to… I refuse to be outdone when it comes to curses.”

  “But you just did, and actually twice.” I reminded him of the record score till now.

  “We are not having a contest.” The devil bellowed. “Oh, I see now. You think you can defeat me by turning my own curses against me. But you're mistaken. The only reason I was hurt until now was because I was bound to a host body. But this—this is my true devil form. And it's immune to curses.”

  The Devil Apostle’s dark mist-head suddenly expanded, swallowing the entire library in its shadow.

  In the next moment, light twisted, and we found ourselves in a basement-like room, dark and oppressive.

  Al identified that we had somehow teleported to somewhere close by, and I was still in the magic tower premises. Was this supposed to be some kind of trap room? Though my spidey senses had yet to give me any signal.

  “In times like these, I had the foresight to prepare.” the devil growled. “I kept my power source ready for emergencies like this. And once I consume them—it's game over for you.”

  “But there’s nothing here,” I said, glancing around. I even stepped forward to check and help my opponent, wondering if his vision was impaired by the clouded, misty head.

  “Where is my food?! I told that pathetic human to gather all the cursed mages separately. Even if I didn’t spell out that I planned to devour them, he should’ve known the consequences of crossing me! If he really wanted to lift my curse on his beloved, he should’ve followed through! So, who made them all disappear?!”

  “Maybe they just ran away.” I said, pointing to the gate still hanging wide open. “You left the door open.”

  “Who dares!” he roared. “Is he trying to deceive me? Does he plan to deal with the forbidden grimoire himself? How dare a mere human think he can handle the world’s strongest cursed tome! Even I haven’t uncovered its full power yet! But no matter—if I can turn this entire capital city into cursed energy-filled monsters and consume them, I’ll be unstoppable. And then, I’ll use the tome’s power to kill you too.”

  The devil apostle was now fully focused on me, this time being completely cautious with his next move.

  He laughed, even as his plans crumbled one after another. These devils are really too optimistic for their own good. But then his words struck me.

  “Wait… does that mean there’s still a cursed book out there strong enough to be called the world’s most powerful curse?” I said, a wild idea sparking in my mind. “Perfect. I can use that as a 'get well soon' gift.”

  “You truly are absurd.” the devil said, tone twisted with rage. “You clearly don’t understand the power you're speaking of. You think of it as a gift? Even I wouldn’t give something so deadly to my worst enemy.”

  “What does it matter to you?” I replied coldly. “You’re just a cloud of fog with a mouth.”

  At those words, something snapped within him—twisted, and dark.

  “If curses won’t work on you, then let’s see what happens when I tear out your soul instead.”

  “Can’t we just do this later?” I muttered. “Even your third attempt has failed. And I really don’t want someone else getting their hands on my cursed book.”

  “That book doesn’t even belong to you.” the devil growled. “And what you're about to suffer will be a nightmare beyond death. I’ll show you pain so profound, it will be etched into your soul for eternity.”

  Before I could react, black mist surged across the room. It thickened into a dark fog—dense, suffocating. Then, like fluid, it lashed out, grabbing my arms and legs with the cold, slimy grip made purely of malice and dark energy.

  I tried to pull away, but it was too fast.

  The fog morphed into a massive, pulsating orb of black slime—and swallowed me whole.

  ◇◇◇

  In the Realm of Darkness, those who know of this spell—most fear it.

  And then… there are the rare few.

  Those who, upon learning its true nature, offer themselves willingly, just to glimpse what lies beyond, and wish to forever stay there.

  But in the end, their fate is always the same.

  They die excruciating, agonizing deaths—

  Not because of the spell itself.

  But because of their own greed…

  Their fragile egos as living beings.

  There is no way out once someone is inside this skill's effect.

  With that, she should be finished by now. I have poured an immense amount of strength into casting my ace spell.

  In truth, what I used wasn’t a curse technique—it was a mind manipulation technique, passed down to me by Master Zero himself the moment I was born as a devil.

  And so, it became the strongest spell in my entire arsenal.

  But now, I must return to the Realm of Darkness and recover. Just... what in the nine hells was that girl? Not even a hero should be able to nullify my curse so easily—not even with the borrowed divine magic of the gods, or with some shabby holy sword.

  She overpowered me—not just in strength, but in black magic and curses too.

  But now that she’s finally out of the way…

  I will return and reclaim my strength. Once the city falls under the complete curse effect of the grimoire, I shall consume it entirely.

  Then, the grimoire will be mine to command—and with it, I will be close to the second apostle in power.

  ◇◇◇

  “Alicia, did you enjoy your bath as well?” the woman who had accompanied me asked, her voice as soft as a spring breeze and a warm smile lighting up her face.

  “Yes, Mother.” I replied with a smile.

  My skin still tingled from the luxurious heat of the enormous hot spring, and I felt as though the fatigue of a lifetime had been melted away.

  In my previous life, as far as I could recall, I had never experienced something so blissfully extravagant. The swirling steam, the mineral-rich scent of the waters — everything had been new and utterly enchanting.

  Normally, I would have protested — I can bathe alone! — but the true Hero who took on the role of mother for me was stubborn beyond reason.

  She insisted on staying by my side. Not that I truly minded.

  It was just that sometimes, it could be a hassle when she got a little too handsy. Massaging my cheeks and shoulders with an embarrassing enthusiasm, using the excuse of taking care of me.

  Still, the touch carried a warmth I could never bring myself to reject.

  Mother ruffled my damp hair with a playful chuckle. “Alright, little one, let’s head to the training grounds.”

  From what I could recall, it had only been a month since I decided to stay here. And slowly it became an ordinary day, in my extraordinary second chance at life.

  Living peacefully with my new family. Mother had already made it a daily routine to teach me swordsmanship.

  Interestingly, she never gave me any detailed instructions or explained basic techniques. According to her, I was supposed to adapt and learn naturally by fighting her each day — as if she completely believed I could somehow master it all perfectly on my own.

  “Your body and mind will remember it for you.” she would say with a mysterious wink. Instead of lectures, she thrust me into battle, forcing me to survive and adapt through pure instinct.

  It had only been two weeks since we started, and even now, I could barely last ten minutes sparring with her before she knocked me flat.

  “Alright, let's begin.” she said, taking her stance.

  “Umu.” I nodded.

  Honestly, I was never fond of physical training. I always imagined myself more suited to the image of a mage.

  Still, training with mother was the best way to bond with her. Even when she was strict or exerted heavy pressure during our matches, she was always considerate deep down.

  If I wanted to defeat the monsters lurking in the deeper floors of this labyrinth and eventually reach the outside world, obtaining absolute strength was necessary.

  This day should have been just another normal training session.

  Instead—

  Mother charged at me with hazy eyes. Without warning, she lunged, her blade cutting through the air like a streak of lightning.

  I managed to block her first strike successfully.

  But then, Mother's usual gentle and curious expression shifted.

  There was no usual smile curling her lips. Her expression was tight, almost... furious?

  She leapt back, flipping midair — and when she landed, her sword ignited. A divine light, reflected from all sides of the sword edge, almost blinded me.

  Mother was using one of her sword aural arts. And even if I blocked the attack with my sword, a simultaneous strike from her dual blade would follow from my side, ripping me in half.

  “I am sorry.” I whispered to myself, “But I can't continue this any longer.”

  Instead of trying to block mother’s deadly attack, I dodged, taking some damage as the edge of her sword grazed my shoulder. I needed the opening.

  Before the full force of her next blow could fall, I twisted my body low and drove my black sword straight into her chest, the blade sinking deep with a wet sound.

  A sharp gasp escaped her lips. Blood, warm and horrifyingly real, oozed down the edge of my weapon, sliding onto my hands.

  “After all... you are not my mother.” I murmured, my voice cracking.

  The strength in her arm faltered. The black blade pulsed hungrily, draining the magic and the life essence from her dying form.

  Her vibrant glow dimmed. Her body sagged against me, growing colder by the second.

  Why does it hurt so much, even knowing it was a lie...?

  “I knew... I knew this was fake all along. But it felt so real.” I said, my throat tightening.

  “I was cold to you at first. I didn't trust you. I was scared. Suspicious of every kindness you showed me. I thought I was just going to be abandoned later on and did not want to be bothered. But you were so patient... so kind... I was too late in giving my feelings back to you, Mom.” I clenched my teeth, fighting back the burning sensation rising in my chest.

  “That’s why I wanted to become a good daughter and make you happy from the start this time. I thought maybe... just a little longer... we could stay like this. But that devil had to ruin it all!”

  A deep, simmering rage welled up inside me, blurring my vision. My eyes burned — not from tears, but from something darker taking root within me.

  Mother reached up weakly, her fingertips brushing my cheek as if she had heard and understood every word.

  “There are always deadly consequences to your actions.” she murmured faintly. “If you continue down this path... you will suffer even more.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me, Mother.” I said softly, closing my eyes. “I’ll take care of myself.”

  The world around me began to dissolve. The warmth of her touch faded. The illusion shattered — and once again, I was thrown into another fabricated life.

  No matter how close they once were to me — friends, family, acquaintances, even people I had barely met or in passing— from illusion to illusion, they all turned their blades against me.

  If I hesitated to counter, the killing and the pain would stretch on endlessly, without any end.

  The only way forward was to strike first.

  My hands never trembled. Not even once.

  Whether it was Athena, Father, Regis, Hana, my little sister Lili, my comrades from this life, or even those I had known in my past life — it made no difference.

  Was it because I knew they were fake and just an illusion? Or was I returning to being the same defective who didn’t care about anything?

  From one illusion to the next, I pressed onward, cutting down each figure that approached me.

  I don’t remember how many times I have swung my sword till now. I already lost count after crossing a thousand.

  And finally, two more figures appeared — a man and a woman.

  But unlike the others, they treated me like a child.

  Their faces, however, were smeared with dark ink, blurred beyond recognition, as if someone had struck their very existence from my memory.

  “...So, I can't remember your faces even in illusion, which is supposed to read through my memory.” I muttered, my voice hollow. “Maybe this will be the last.”

  When the next illusion came, another figure appeared — a woman.

  Her face too was blurred, but something about her was different.

  I searched my memories — of my life here, and of the one before — but I could not recall her. Yet somehow, more than anyone else, I felt a connection.

  The way her silver-white hair shimmered, the structure of her body, even the delicate curve of her face — it all mirrored mine.

  She didn’t attack me.

  Instead, she simply turned and walked away, saying nothing.

  And as she disappeared into the mist, the final illusion crumbled into nothingness.

  ◇◇◇

  “Right now, it should be hell inside your head. Living through your worst nightmares for the rest of your life until your soul withers away.” Blightmar sneered, his voice dripping with amusement as he stared at the giant black sphere that imprisoned Alicia.

  Satisfied with his work, the apostle devil turned to leave. Surely, no mere mortal could survive the curse crafted by his master.

  But then —

  A chill, cold, and primal slithered down his entire being.

  Every nerve inside him screamed the same command— Run. Escape. Now.

  Before Blightmar could even react, something tore through the black shell.

  A sword — blacker than any void— shot from within, cleaving the air with a shriek.

  Blightmar barely twitched before the sword pierced straight through his chest, slamming him against the stone wall.

  The devil thrashed wildly, his smoke-like form writhing, trying desperately to slip free.

  But the sword pinned him in place like a moth skewered alive.

  “Wh-Why can’t I disintegrate?!” Blightmar failed to use his ability to turn into mist and run away. The moment he realized he could not escape, his body started trembling in horror. “Why... why can't I break free!?”

  His answer came as the black sphere finally crumbled.

  And from the crumbling darkness, Alicia emerged.

  Silent. Unbroken.

  Radiating something far beyond human, as she started walking.

  And when the light hit her — Blightmar recoiled in shock.

  Her once black hair had bled into a cascade of white silver strands, flowing like liquid moonlight down her back.

  The mask came off, revealing a beautiful face — unnervingly calm, like porcelain devoid of warmth, devoid of mercy.

  “N-No... Impossible.” Blightmar rasped. “How... how could you survive? You should be dying! Suffering! Torn apart by the faces of your loved ones!”

  Her boots echoed coldly against the stone floor as she closed the distance, her gaze never leaving the pinned devil.

  He staggered against the sword pinning him, desperate, trembling.

  “You killed them all, didn’t you? Every illusion — every smiling known face to you — you slaughtered them! You should have gone through more than thousands of illusions! No human of the Middle Realm could bear such cruelty! No heart could survive that! So, now what? Do you want me to go through the same pain as you did?” Blightmar screamed as though he were going mad.

  “You think I care if I kill some illusions. Unfortunately for you, I did not feel any pain or remorse. So, I am not sure how to make you suffer either. Right now, more than anything, I want you gone.”

  From beneath Alicia’s lowered brow, hollow blue eyes stared out like the void between worlds.

  The devil shuddered.

  Divine energy and malice swirled around her — breathing together within one vessel.

  An existence that should not be possible.

  “You... what are you...?” Blightmar’s blackened soul quivered at the sight.

  Alicia tilted her head slightly, like a predator observing broken prey.

  Her lips parted slightly.

  “Why don't you ask the other two devil apostles I met before? I remember... a woman with long purple hair and a demonic sword, and another — a crow-headed creature with a sly tongue.”

  Blightmar froze. His blood ran cold.

  “But... they’re dead. No — did you kill them?” His voice cracked with terror. “I'll escape and warn my kind — and when I return, I'll kill you! I’ll destroy everything you ever cared about!”

  Alicia remained unmoved.

  “You didn’t even answer my questions.” Alicia said softly, almost thoughtfully. “And yet you still attacked me. Again, and again... no matter how many chances I gave you. So, I will change my tactics this time.”

  “You’re insane! No matter what kind of strength you have — you’ll fall! Now that I know who you are... all of us will come for you! And as for your questions — I'd rather die a thousand deaths than answer you! So, kill me. Kill me now.”

  Alicia chuckled — low, soft, and terrifying.

  “Alright then.” she whispered. “If that's your choice. But don't flatter yourself... Not even for a second did I fall for your little act.”

  Alicia’s eyes glowed faintly.

  “You think I didn’t notice?” she continued. “The body you're using is just a clone.”

  Blightmar froze, as if a hammer had shattered the last remnants of his dying hope.

  “But...” he stammered. “Even if you found me out... you’ll never reach me.

  Once I escape, we’ll find you. We’ll tear apart everyone you ever spoke to. Your friends, your family — they’ll all suffer the worst agony imaginable!”

  Alicia’s expression remained serene.

  But a dangerous glint flickered in her hollow blue eyes, the blue in her eyes deepening.

  “You know...” Alicia mused, almost to herself, “Mom and dad always warned me to never use curse magic and especially mind manipulation magic. It’s almost like they knew... what might happen if I ever did.”

  Blightmar tensed, sensing something wrong — swirling in the air around her.

  “But maybe...” Alicia smiled wider, “...just this once, I’ll be a little bad girl. After all, there will be no one left to tell them about this.”

  In that instant, before Blightmar could react or figure out what she was exactly talking about, Alicia moved.

  Alicia’s fingers brushed against the devil’s forehead.

  In that fleeting second, the entire room shuddered.

  “…” Blightmar gasped, his voice strangled with terror.

  The devil tried to scream, but his voice was swallowed by the darkness blossoming from Alicia’s touch.

  A blur.

  And then —

  The real nightmare began.

  ◇◇◇

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