The room felt colder than it should have been, air heavy with thoughts I didn't want to entertain.
Grandma Sylvie… dead?
No.
It was not possible—
I shook my head violently, as if the sheer force of it could throw the idea out of my mind.
It was ridiculous.
Impossible.
There was no way I'd let something like that happen.
But the image was stubborn, creeping back in like an unwelcomed guest.
An assassin… targeting me? That part was easy enough to believe.
My "empty physique" made me a perfect weakling, a walking invitation for the other members of our family who had a grudge against my parents.
After all…my father had many enemies.
And if one did come, there was no doubt what Ma would do.
My lips pressed into a hard line as my mind betrayed me, playing different scenarios in my mind.
She would have stood in front of me, her small body shielding mine, her eyes blazing with the same fierce love she'd always had. But her locked mana core—damn the Romero family and their rules, would have meant she couldn't fight back properly.
She would have been outmatched, outpowered.
And she'd die.
She'd die, buying me just enough time to escape.
A shudder ran through me. My hands clenched into fists so tight that my nails dug into my palms.
If something like that really happened—if someone dared to take her from me…I wouldn't just get revenge.
I'd burn that person's world down to its core.
Noah, focus.
The future version of me in the Book of Sin—he hadn't let this happen.
He'd figured out a way to awaken his physique.
That was the answer.
That was the only thing that mattered right now.
I closed my eyes, letting the words etched in the book's pages rise to the surface of my mind.
"The greatest gifts are born out of nothingness."
It sounded poetic at first, but I knew better. The book had never dealt in poetry. It dealt in truths—brutal, unyielding truths.
"To seek what you desire, you must lose what's most important."
I let the words hang in the silence, their weight pressing against me.
What did it mean? Lose what's most important? Was it some metaphor for sacrifice? Or was it literal?
I pushed myself off the door, pacing the room as if movement could help my thoughts untangle.
My bare feet hit the cold wooden floor in uneven beats.
The mural's description had been vague, cryptic even.
But it was clear about one thing—awakening my physique wasn't going to be easy.
I stopped pacing, turning to face the only source of light in the room—a lone candle flickering on the desk.
Its flame wavered, but it never went out, stubbornly holding onto life even against the air sneaking in from the window.
For a moment, I envied the flame.
I sat down at the desk, resting my elbows on its scarred surface.
My hands came up to cradle my face as I closed my eyes, willing myself to focus.
I needed to remember what the future me had done.
The book hadn't detailed the process, only the outcome.
But there was one scene—a page where the future me was sitting inside in a circle of blood, his body trembling, even his face was pale but his eyes… they were alive.
The memory of that mural was so vivid it felt like it had been burned into my brain.
The dark cave he had been hiding in. The trembling. The blood.
My breath hitched. Blood?
My gaze flickered to the candle, its flame reflected in my wide eyes.
Of course. Blood. Life and death. Creation and destruction. The murals were always about balance.
And balance in the new age had always been depicted with the help of our mana cores—
The mana core is said to reside at the centre of our body, just below the nape.
It is said that by developing our core's, we become more attuned with nature and our thus able to walk the path of a mage.
And the reason why I could never become a mage was because my mana core was unable to hold the energy known as mana from the surroundings.
My chair scraped against the floor as I stood abruptly, the sound sharp and jarring in the still room.
I moved to the small chest at the foot of my bed, pulling it open to reveal an assortment of items—a dagger among them.
Its blade was simple, unadorned, but its edge gleamed in the dim light. I picked it up, its weight familiar in my hand.
These was one of the items I had used to open the Book Of Sin—
Returning to the desk, I set the blade down carefully, my reflection distorted on its polished surface.
My heart was racing now, not from fear but from the electric anticipation coursing through me.
This was it.
The beginning.
"To seek what you desire, you must lose what's most important."
What did I desire?
Strength?
Power?
The ability to protect the people I cared about?
And what would I need to lose in exchange?
The thought lingered as I held the blade, its cool surface pressed against my palm.
"I'll find out soon enough," I murmured.
The candle flickered, its light casting long, shifting shadows on the walls.
It was already afternoon, I thought.
12 hours to go before grandma dies.
***
The room smelled of iron and burnt wax.
It had been an hour since I started, and blood was still dripping from my fingertips.
The faint sound it made against the floor was almost rhythmic, a counter to my thoughts as I stared at the finished sacrificial circle.
The circle glowed faintly, its edges traced with the blood I had painstakingly offered.
My fingers were numb, a result of the need to make intricate designs made up of overlapping sigils and unfamiliar runes.
Their shapes jagged, twisting into each other like vines choking a tree.
Looking at this wonder, I realised that it wouldn't have been possible to make this if I hadn't burned the image I'd seen in that book. Back then, when I realised that there was a way to awaken my physique, I had put all my focus on learning the Awakening Ritual. Symbols of fire and ash were etched near the circle's outer edges, while the center bore a hollow spiral—empty and ominous, like it was waiting to devour whatever lay in its grasp.
I sat cross-legged at the very center, my body perfectly aligned with the spiral, my breathing steady but shallow.
The dim light from the candle at the corner of the room cast a flickering glow over the runes, making them look alive.
Feeling a sense of overdrive fill me, I felt acutely aware of the silence that now filled the room.
No wind rustling through the cracked window, no distant hum of life outside. Just me, the circle, and the faint crackle of the candle's flame.
As I stared down at my hands, the blood running from the shallow cuts I'd made earlier began to slow, eventually stopping altogether. But my focus wasn't on the blood.
It was on something much more terrifying.
The bruises. The cuts. The pain in my ribs from the beating I'd taken yesterday.
All of it was… gone.
When Grandma Sylvie had woken me up, I hadn't noticed at first.
I'd been too distracted, too consumed with embarrassment and the urgency of what I needed to do next.
But now, with the room silent and my body still, it was clear as day.
It must be the Book Of Sin.
I flexed my fingers, the cuts from carving the circle visible. Perhaps the only injuries I could account for.
My skin was smooth, unbroken, where bruises should have lingered.
My ribs no longer ached, and even the faint traces of blood that had been sucked by the Book of Sin had been replenished.
A chill ran through me.
Yes.
It had to be the book.
There was no other explanation.
It had taken my blood, drained me, and yet here I was, whole again.
Then again… at what cost?
I did not like the possibilities that came in my mind, so I shoved them aside.
There was no time to dwell on the consequences righy now.
Not now.
I reached out for the dagger resting beside me, its blade dull in the candlelight but sharp enough to cut through flesh.
I felt it's smooth and cold surface on my hand, unsure if what I was doing would be the right choice…
"The greatest gifts are born out of nothingness.
To seek what you desire, you must lose what's most important."
The words echoed in my mind, a grim reminder of the path I'd chosen.
I looked down at my chest as I traced the outline of my navel.
This was where one's mana core was placed, right below their navel.
I imagined it pulse faintly beneath my skin, my fingers brushing against the faint glow of my mana core.
But it was all a make believe.
My core did not shine.
Nor did it store mana.
I had an empty physique.
A flaw.
A burden.
And if the book was right, this was the only way to change that.
The murals in the book had shown me what needed to be done, even if it hadn't explained why.
I knew what I had to do.
My grip on the dagger tightened as I tried to reinforced myself.
'Could I really do this?'
The spiral at the center of the circle seemed to pulse faintly, inticing me to offer the 'sacrifice'.
It felt alive, like it was watching me, waiting. The glow of the runes grew brighter, their light flickering along the pounding of my heart.
I took a shaky breath, lowering the dagger to hover just above my abdomen.
The tip was aligned perfectly where it was described in the book.
Right below my nape.
This was it.
I'd imagined this moment so many times in the last few minutes, but now that it was finally here, my hands started trembling.
What if it didn't work?
.
.
.
What if it did?
Ughhh
"Stop thinking," I whispered to myself, my voice hoarse. "Just do it."
I clenched my teeth, forcing my mind to go blank.
The hesitation was unbearable, like a wall I couldn't climb.
My chest felt tight, not from fear but from the overwhelming weight of what I was going to do.
And then, in one swift motion I plunged the dagger, deep into my mana core.
***