NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter-173 A Parent’s Curse
“Go back and rest now, don’t think about anything else,” the Governor said, wiping the knife’s blade on his sleeves and keeping it in his storage artifact, his blood drenching his ivory tunic. “And check up on Avis and Val, make sure they don’t go out.”
“Congrats Ewan,” Kiev said in a hoarse voice, his face haggard and his hair ruffled, and plodded away with his back slouched.
“Y-Yeah, you too,” Ewan said, barely bringing out the words.
The Governor touched his wounds, his hand glimmered cerulean, and the gashes closed up. The damage was without Anima or any hostile spirit, the Governor could heal them without breaking a sweat.
“Do you need some help, sir?” Ewan asked. Nevertheless, a gesture was necessary.
“I could use a hand if you don’t mind, my old bones can't tolerate much stress anymore,” the Governor said with a smile.
“Of course not, I’ll be happy to help.” Ewan cast Iris’s ‘Mend’ with Sindra and aimed at his major wounds. The Blood-Anima surpassed the limit and rampaged inside his body, the friction and the resistance burning him up. Luckily, the Step-0 Elementalist modification dampened the impact, and his evolution and the growth in his quality of life tolerated the recoil. It was the same old problem, and only after he started the Step-1 Elementalist process would it go away—till then, he had to suffer.
The Governor’s spell led the way, and Ewan’s ‘Mend’ followed the trail, healing the leftover cuts. Soon all the lacerations closed up, and only the lingering metallic stench and the tears in his bloodied tunic remained of the madness.
“I let you see something bizarre; it must’ve startled you. I apologize,” the Governor said.
“It’s alright, sir, everyone has his own troubles to deal with.”
“It’s sad when a child has to bear the curse for his parents, and its sadder when a parent consciously curses his child.” The Governor threw the blood-water to the garden and refilled it with fresh water, yet the traces of red still remained, and the rising steam carried the taste of blood. “My child suffers the punishment for my mistakes, yet I can't do anything but pity him. I can't ease his pain…”
Ewan lowered his head and let his emerging speculations die in their buds. This was their family issue; it was better if he kept his nose clean.
“Have you heard of Ashevagord?” the Governor asked.
“I have.”
“Do you know of the ‘masked conclave’?”
“Kiev mentioned it before, he said he wanted to join,” Ewan said.
“Then do you want to join with him?”
The question stumbled Ewan and left him without words, because the only words he wanted to reply with were the words of refusal, and the possible consequences of refusing this old man made him wary.
The Governor smiled. “I just asked on a whim, you don’t have to mind it too much.”
“Sorry, sir, I don’t do well with rules and regulations.”
“It’s alright, you don’t have to apologize. I only hoped you two could take care of each other in the conclave, I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
The cardinal-red wyvern flew back in and landed in the garden, the flap of its wings blasting away the violet flowers, its bloodied talons digging into the grass. Sparks accompanied its low growls and the Fire-Anima stormed around it as it chewed the maimed body in its mouth and gulped it down, licking the leftover blood on its lips.
“The city should be quiet now,” the Governor said, sending the wyvern back into his ring. “I’ve taken too much of your time, go back and rest, you must be tired from the rite.” He took out a stack of books and piled them on the table. “These are the books on runes and mystic-element that you wanted, though I don’t know if they would help you. They don’t go too much in depth.”
“If I may, sir, can I change some of them for books on <Contract> spell?” Ewan asked. His initial approach to creating the mystic-rune changed over the course of his research and experiments, his target now was to mimic the <Contract> spell. If he succeeded, his affinity would bring the mystic rune his way—he wouldn’t need to know about its ins and outs to create it. And though he was already nearing the finish line, the hub providing all the data he needed for it, more knowledge and information could never hurt.
“Of course,” the Governor said and added more books on top of the pile without taking any away, and this time, they were all about the <Contract> spell. “Apart from our initial deal, I’ll also need your help with something else. I’ll tell you the details when we meet again.”
……
Kidd wasn’t home when Ewan went back, only Stefan stood in the lawn with his battered body, waiting for him with the tied-up slaves.
“Where’s Kidd?” he asked.
“Cork…,” Stefan said in a dim voice.
The implication of that name was enough for him, and he launched away, rending the wind towards the port.
The rebellion had settled down, and the city burned in its wake. It remained standing through the raids and the wars, its people bearing the wounds and the bruises to live another day. Yet today, Drarith collapsed, the chaos flattened the city.
Ewan soon found Kidd sitting among the rubble, staring at the pike erected before him, and its blade skewered a man’s chopped head. The man Kidd called his family, the man who raised him, and the man who gave him his name, he was no more. Cork had died.
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