Edith clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes flying wide as she watched the boy's blood slide down over his foot and drip onto the ground. The man facing them held a crude, old-fashioned pistol in his other hand, the one he had just drawn and fired at the exact moment Rey took his first step forward to attack.
"You're young…" the man said with a twisted, maniacal laugh, ignoring the blur that had suddenly fogged his vision. "And very naïve."
White and Edith moved to help Rey, but he darted from side to side with sharp, sudden movements, slipping past the next shots as they cracked through the air. He warned them out loud, his voice cutting through the chaos:
"Do not interfere!"
Grinning, the boy's face lit up with pure, unmistakable murderous intent, and that alone was enough to freeze his two companions in place.
"You'd have a better chance of beating me if this were an old-fashioned duel, like in the books," he added, almost amused.
The man kept firing, teeth clenched, but his vision grew more and more blurred. As far as he could remember, he had never missed more than two shots in a row. That simple fact forced a single, unwanted conclusion into his mind: something was wrong. Very wrong.
Rey vanished from the spot where he'd been a heartbeat before and reappeared behind his opponent.
"You've made a fatal mistake," he said calmly. "You've just reminded me there are no rules in a fight. When it comes to winning, any means is valid."
With his sharp teeth bared, the small boy lunged from behind. He tore through cloth and metal alike—the fabric and plating protecting the man's neck—and ripped out a chunk of flesh with a savage bite. The pirate, with a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, needed only one more good shot to win the fight, but for some reason he simply could not land it. It was as if he were fighting a ghost—something he could see right in front of him that was there one second and gone the next. It wasn't just blurry vision; there were several versions of the boy overlapping in the same space, drifting like shadows in different directions.
Rey, on the other hand, knew enough about firearms from books. Maybe he couldn't move his feet as fast as a bullet driven by an explosion yet—but he could see his opponent's hand, see the tension in his finger every time it pulled back on the trigger. That gave him the split-second advantage he needed to move and dodge at exactly the right moment.
The spectators—fighters who had already failed to defeat the pirate—were left speechless. How was such a ridiculous attack even possible? At the very least the kid should have used his other arm, right? For starters, no normal person could move that fast, much less use their mouth for something like that.
"He's not a child," thought the man in pirate garb, cold dread creeping up his spine. "And to top it all off, that creature just chewed the piece of meat in his mouth and swallowed it."
Click, click. The hammer of the gun snapped uselessly, the dry sound announcing that there were no bullets left to fire. With no loaded weapons, all the man had left was a musket with a blade fixed to the tip and a neck that was still leaking blood. Resigned to the fact that he was losing, the pirate kept his eyes locked on the boy and shouted:
"Abomination! Demon! How dare you bite me?!"
He tried to swing his sword, but he didn't have the reach or the speed. If he wanted to do anything at all, he would have to throw the weapon, even though he knew it would be useless against his enemy.
"Of course… If I distract him by attacking the girl with him, he'll have to show himself," he thought, his gaze flicking toward the small girl dressed in black, who seemed terrified by everything unfolding around her.
"My defeat is already written in ink… but you'll still have to work for it!" he roared. "In the meantime, I'll take her life!"
He drew his arm back, preparing to unleash a brutal swing of his saber. Halfway through that motion, his body betrayed him. He dropped to his knees, eyes wide in horror. A second later, he fell face-first to the floor. His mouth hung open. His eyes went glassy. He couldn't find the words to speak or the strength to move. He knew he was dying, but his thoughts scrambled desperately: "How? When did it happen? Where did I slip up?"
The questions faded into nothing as everything went black and even his thoughts stopped making sense…
Rey, with a thrust of his right claw shaped like a spear, had driven his hand straight through the man's stomach. Once inside, he opened his hand, grabbed the pirate's heart, and yanked it out in a single, brutal motion—all in the blink of an eye, exploiting his opponent's blind spot. Back on solid ground, standing by the body of the fallen man, Rey lifted the still-beating organ to his mouth and—munch-munch, nom-nom, yum-yum, gulp—ate it.
Wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb, Rey answered the dying man's unspoken question:
"If they don't have unlimited shots, firearms aren't any better than close-combat weapons. Once you run out of bullets, you run out of advantages."
Turning away, Rey tossed a careless smile into the air and kept walking. You could say he was proud of himself; he had won the fight with ease, despite being a child. Edith followed behind him, trembling with fear, silently grateful she had never ended up facing such a monster herself. White padded along with her head held high, proud of her partner and clearly inspired to become just as strong.
After defeating anyone who stood in his way to the castle and painting the streets red, the boy drank blood from inside the helmet of one of his fallen enemies, using it like a cup, then tossed it aside. In his presence, attackers didn't bother with introductions or trading words. A flurry of blows, a clash of steel and claws—every encounter ended the same way: one loser on the ground and one victor still walking, until at last he crossed the threshold of the castle gate.
Inside the fascinating structure, Rey walked straight toward an empty throne. On the back wall behind it, towering and imposing, stood the statues of two beautiful women, their hands intertwined. One played with water flowing between her fingers; the other toyed with the leaves of a tree. It wasn't hard to guess that these sculptures represented the two old women in the prime of their youth.
A voice rang out, echoing through the vast hall lined with banners and columns that held up the impossibly distant ceiling. It addressed the boy directly:
"Have you come to put your fighting style to the test?"
"No," Rey answered, his voice steady. "I've come to learn how to cry out."
"Then you must—"
The voice, brimming with gallantry and ready to continue whatever grand speech it had prepared, suddenly faltered. Realizing it had misheard—or misunderstood—it stopped mid-sentence and corrected itself:
"What did you say?"
Rey crossed his arms and fell silent, the way someone does when they have no intention of repeating themselves. The voice went on:
"Crying out is not a fighting style." After a brief pause, it tried to justify its answer. "What? Didn't you find it thrilling to fight so many opponents? Are you in the wrong arena or what? Because if you truly are arrogant, and live up to those razor-sharp eyes of yours, it's impossible that you'd want to abandon your own beliefs just to learn someone else's."
"They weren't human anymore, much less proud warriors," Rey replied. "I only fought desperate ghosts clinging to an eternal 'last battle'…" After a deep yawn, he added, "You're no different." The boy turned his head toward the Reaper. "Edith… let's go."
The voice, now sounding insulted, snapped back:
"How dare you? You've got a broken arm, you can barely breathe properly, and you dare to look down on the power of someone like me? I don't care about losing to anyone, but I will not lose to you! Face me just once. I guarantee… you'll end up begging me to be your master…"
Rey didn't even bother to acknowledge those desperate words.
"Only someone I recognize as worthy—or who has enough courage to step into battle at my side—could be my master. A coward who refuses to even show his face isn't anywhere close to deserving such a title. Goodbye. Drown in your ideals and keep waiting for someone just like you."
Suddenly, another voice spread through the hall like a melody—relaxed and powerful, washing over them and stopping Rey mid-step.
"Little one. You must not leave. You are still in time to find what you seek and, if you accept my offer, to learn the ways of sorcery."
"Yes, it has to be her," Rey thought. "That lady with a benevolent character, faithful to her convictions, brave, selfless, and strong-willed." After thinking it through, he spoke her name aloud as he turned his face:
"Clara."
The nameless boy's white eyes widened in surprise. Just like the statues behind the throne, he found himself staring at the figure of a young, beautiful woman. Pale skin. Light brown eyes. Hair of the same color, long and braided. She had the body of someone brave, but the gaze of an innocent girl—worried and protective. She wore a crown of olive branches on her head, a white low-cut dress of fine fabric with two thin straps that fell to just above her knees, and sandals whose straps crisscrossed up to her ankles.
One could say that if it weren't for her voice, Rey wouldn't have recognized her even if she walked right past him. Not just because of her appearance, but because of her gaze. The woman he remembered as someone advanced in years, with an illustrious, pure, spotless personality, now looked young—and sad. Perhaps because the person who had been speaking a moment ago had allowed himself to become so unbearably arrogant.
Clara, a little puzzled, said:
"Yes, that's right. And you are…?"
The moment she asked, she caught sight of the boy's white eyes and her expression shifted into a smile of sudden realization. As if scolding herself for having forgotten something obvious, she continued:
"You are the son of Lady Maryam and Lord Wulfgang. Forgive my memory, but I don't think I ever had the chance to hear your name."
"My name is Rey. I don't have a last name…"
With the gentle warmth of a grandmother looking at her grandson, Clara said:
"I see. I'm glad you're still alive—and that you've grown so strong and noble…"
But deep down, a faint disappointment stirred in her chest. She had hoped that the one who recognized her from nothing more than the way she looked would still be the man he had stopped being long ago; after all, he had found the way back to her castle. But no. He wasn't him.
The other voice protested:
"Old woman, I don't have time for your chatter. In a fight between men, you must not interfere—even if you're the one who trained me. My pride would never allow my enemy to show me mercy just because he knows you!"
Clara ignored the words of the so very proud man, whose young, muscular body now stepped out from behind the statues, and went on speaking with the boy.
"Rey, forgive me—and forgive him. I must admit his behavior is my fault. Among all my disciples, many have mastered my advanced style, the Lord of Water. Few developed any ability related to controlling the liquid itself—except for him. Because of that, my great-grandson proclaimed himself the King of the Arrogant and a God-rank user."
Rey could understand. That man was the only one among the human disciples with elemental control. Since no one else like him existed among his peers, he had let himself be carried away by pride. Calling himself a God-rank user of the style was far from sensible, although perhaps, because he only fought against humans, he had come to underestimate the true greatness of the God rank. It would be better to call him a False God.
Even so, judging by his physique, Rey could tell the man in front of him took his training seriously. The problem might have been that he'd never had a goal or a rival—so he hadn't grown, nor had he pushed his potential anywhere close to its peak.
There he was at last: the great-grandson of the White Witch, stepping into the light before the throne. Tall body, short hair, covered in a simple knight's armor overlaid with intricate, crystal-like bluish plates. At his waist hung a long two-handed sword. Chin raised, chest puffed out, back straight and rigid—every bit the arrogant, conceited man who would never stop until he got what he wanted.
Clara wanted her disciple to taste defeat so he could regain his senses. For warriors, after all, the stronger the opponent, the greater the results of the battle. Feeling anguished at having to ask such a favor, she added:
"I ask that you accept this match. In return, I will give you my knowledge, no matter how long it takes you to learn it…"
Clara's great-grandson, his pride wounded in the worst possible way, added with a snort:
"The three of you can attack me at once if you'd like. Maybe you'll stand a better chance. But if you don't defeat me, I won't allow you to train under her—and I'll personally drive you away forever."
Terrified, Edith moved behind the boy and ducked, covering her head at the booming words of the imposing, burly fighter. At the same time, a realization hit her. No matter how many times it had happened in the past, she still couldn't get used to that feeling of fear, and she always ended up hiding behind Rey.
She even asked herself: if it hadn't been for the hatred she'd felt when she learned she was destined for someone else, would she ever have had the courage to run away and go looking for him? "What was I thinking, doing something so insane?"
Ashamed of herself, she felt the need to say something out loud:
"Rey. Don't hate me for depending on you so much and not being able to do anything in return."
White pushed out her chest as if she feared nothing at all. Despite her small size, she alone had defeated several enemies before they even reached the castle gates.
Rey, in a cautious tone, gave Edith a brief, reassuring smile and said:
"I'll take care of him. Don't worry."
His words and his calm behavior made the little feline step aside to let him pass, made Edith release her grip on him, and made his opponent drop the weapon he'd been carrying and shift into a fighting stance.
As usual, Rey took a position that kept his fractured arm hidden and his good arm forward. Wearing an eager smile, his opponent raised a shimmering defensive barrier of water. He shaped two swords from the same liquid and charged at the boy in a full run—but halfway there, he was forced to retreat. With a backward leap—more like he'd been knocked back by some invisible force—he dropped to a crouch on the floor and tried to clamp his remaining arm over a wound in his chest.
Rey's face lit up with genuine surprise.
"Oh! Congratulations," he said. "You're the only being who's managed to take my most powerful attack and still remain on your feet."
Enraged, the man stopped trying to cover the enormous wound yawning open along the side of his ribcage, a wound that spat blood every time he moved. Forcing another sword into existence, he tried to stand and throw himself at Rey with every last ounce of strength he had left—but he couldn't.
A monstrous hand was thrust straight through his chest from back to front, holding his still-beating heart right in front of his face.
The Rey who had never moved from his spot suddenly vanished, startling even his two companions, who were left with their mouths hanging open.
Edith, trying to understand, murmured:
"So that's how you'd be ready if someone appeared out of nowhere and attacked you. All this time, you've been hiding your real body."
Munch-munch, nom-nom, yum-yum, gulp. Rey swallowed, smiled, and let his hand return to normal, allowing his opponent's body to drop to the ground with a heavy thud.
"It's an ineffective trick in the eyes of an expert," he said, "and it comes with major risks."
He'd gotten so carried away bragging that he had to stop and cough a few times. "If I were forced to fight either of the old women or the Dullahan, I'd lose. Both of them can see straight through my shadows with ease," Rey thought.
The Reaper, however, believed the opposite. Edith's eyes widened at the words of the little monster who knew all too well how to hide his abilities. To her, he looked invincible, perfectly prepared, as if he could do anything he set his mind to. Did someone like that even have weak points?
Seeing someone so perfect was intimidating. Yet knowing that such a person was on her side in battle was comforting. "But like any warrior, his arrogance and pride could someday lead him to ruin," she thought.
Clara shook her head at her disciple's defeat, then continued:
"'Aura Control' is not such an ineffective trick as all that. I can see you've endured extreme physical training to make yourself resistant to pain, that you are loyal to the strength of your own will, that you can control your murderous intent, and that you have a strong fighting spirit. Little one, give yourself a bit more credit. If I were your mother, I'd be proud of you.
"You're growing smarter—you can read other people's intentions and sustain an interesting fight against an adult. In other words, this whole time you were provoking my great-grandson's movements. Preparing someone with the idea that they already have the battle won, and then doing something as complex as vanishing in front of them, makes that belief, in a way, impossible to hold on to."
When enough time had passed, the man got up from the ground without a single wound left on his body. Anger burned on his face; he wanted to attack again, but out of respect for his teacher, who was present, he forced himself to stop and simply said:
"A victory is a victory, but there was no honor in it."
"Would it be honorable for an adult to beat a child?" Edith shot back, her tone sharp.
Rey turned his gaze toward the Reaper and, in the silence that followed the defeated man's words, said:
"It wasn't a fight between an adult and a child. It was a fight between two warriors. I'm fully aware that my methods are not honorable. I cannot afford to lose. Not when my life depends on it."
The Reaper fell quiet.
Clara, recognizing Rey's words as those of the one who created the castle, added in a nostalgic tone:
"To be honest, hearing you speak, seeing you here, and watching your fighting style brings back many memories. It makes me want to ask again: what kind of life have you lived so far to be capable of such feats at such a young age? But, no questions—let's leave nostalgia aside. A promise is a promise. I will teach you how to cry out, though I'm afraid it won't be easy and could take you a very long time."
"How long?" Rey asked.
"To be precise, a normal human's entire lifetime of meditation and practice would be enough to reach the intermediate rank in sorcery."
"I don't have that much time to perfect the art. At least not in this circle." He motioned toward Edith. "Not to mention I have to leave her in Tartarus before I return to the upper circle. I just want to go through the initiation process."
Clara, speaking like someone who knew exactly what they were talking about, said:
"The initiation process does not require more than a few decades if it's properly guided. As for Tartarus, mmm… you must leave Purgatory and ascend to the Heaven of Hell. You can find it there."
As soon as she finished, she folded her hands behind her back and started walking.
"In the meantime, why don't we show your companions the place and get them settled?"
Rey nodded ahead of time. Immediately afterward, other women in similar clothing appeared and guided the Reaper through the halls, while White stepped directly into the path of the burly man, as if she meant to challenge him herself.
With everyone in the hall now having a purpose, the White Witch raised her voice:
"Come with me," she said, leading the way.
The boy followed in silence as the woman guided him through the castle to a back exit that opened onto a vast lake, just as bright as the one at the entrance to the circle.
"Welcome to my workroom," Clara said. "This lake is formed by the waters that flow from the tip of the mountain, the same ones that come from Heaven and, farther on, hide the dismembered body of Lete before they reach Hell. Here we will practice your meditation and begin your training in the arts of sorcery. But first, you must strip off your clothes and take a bath to wash the impurities from your body while I prepare a special brew to cleanse you from the inside. We must also fix those broken bones, the pneumonia that's starting to develop because you aren't breathing properly, and heal the wounds on your body."
Rey nodded and proceeded to follow his new instructor's words to the letter. After removing his clothes, he stepped into the water and, submerging himself several times, scrubbed himself with his own hands until he understood he was clean. The water had healing properties; it helped his body recover, and the liquid he was given to drink helped even more. Once the fractured bone in his hand was set back into anatomical position, it healed normally.
Clara, as if finishing a long and exhausting task, said:
"I must emphasize that if, for any reason, the process—once it begins—does not finish correctly, you will die. If it ends incorrectly, your lifespan will be reduced by at least eighty percent. In the best-case scenario, you'll be forced to live with physical disabilities, or your body will develop autoimmune diseases where your own organism devours itself, or you'll end up cursed. Do you agree to proceed?"
Rey nodded.
She undressed as well. There wasn't much to remove; taking off her crown, unfastening the clasps of her short dress, and slipping off her sandals was enough. After folding everything neatly to the side, Clara stepped into the water with the boy. Sliding her hands under Rey's shoulders, she turned him onto his back to help him float.
"Lie back in the water. Let your body float…" she said.
Ignoring the uncomfortable fact of having to watch the boy's member rise, she continued:
"Relax your limbs. Under no circumstances move or open your eyes until you've entered a state of lucid dreaming."
Once she noticed her disciple was ready, she went on:
"With a few exceptions, we are all born with twenty-four energy vortices blocked. Many arts focus on unlocking a few specific vortices in order to use energy and gain affinity with certain elements. But sorcery requires unlocking all of them at once. Only then can you offer your pure energy to whoever will accept it in order to exist."
Even with his eyes closed, Rey could see darkness. He could still feel his body and hear the voice of the one speaking to him. Then, in the middle of all that darkness, the naked figure of Clara's body appeared, talking to him.
With innocence and immense patience, Clara kept speaking as if she didn't care at all about being seen without clothes:
"It's believed that the world is not as we see it. It's more like a gigantic spiderweb where different realities can exist in the same space. This manifests most clearly inside us when we are in a lucid dream, as you are now. It's dark, isn't it? You think you can't see anything—but it's the opposite. You are actually looking directly at the first energy vortex, through which cognitive, emotional, and vital functions flow—things like movement, sleep, hunger, and instinct. You just don't know how to interpret it.
"This is the first vortex, known as the brain, and there is a method to strip it of its nature. Only by forgetting everything you know can you clear the darkness of this vortex and move on to the next one. Think about it: if the world is not what we think it is, and things are not as we perceive them, then the brain becomes a prisoner of what it knows, trapped within the limits of what it does not.
"What does it mean to be prisoners of what we know—or of what this world full of illusions has allowed us to know? We are different types of energy, and each one has tried to influence you with a delicate ecosystem of interwoven purposes, influences that create and give shape to this darkness."
Rey inhaled deeply and then released the breath he had drawn in. Questions upon questions… he couldn't help thinking of Heroclades. Pushing his teacher from his mind, he went back to breathing, over and over. Little by little, he began to forget everything.
Knowledge slipped away easily, because in a way, forgetting was simply not thinking about anything. Turning off the memories and leaving the mind empty. With each breath, the vortex changed color—a color that wasn't black, but not white or gray either.
The vortex was exactly what it appeared to be: an intense vertical hole, which suddenly lost its support and dropped straight down on top of the boy.
Rey kept his mind completely blank. Suffocating inside the vortex, he ignored everything he could see, feel, or hear. Drowning in a sea of sadness, thoughts, and pain, the boy refused to struggle against the hardships pressing in on him, for the eternity that passed in a single instant. Even so, the vortex turned pitch black, and despair lifted its hand to embrace the body that had forgotten everything it once knew. Suspended in loneliness and depression, he continued to float, unmoving—neither seeking help nor trying to escape.
Darkness became light, the light faded, and with it came a whole tide of sound. The unbearable noise of life screamed at full force in the boy's ears until, exhausted, it too vanished. Darkness flooded back in, and with what felt like the shake of a head, it made clear that it had lost its purpose under those blank white eyes that pierced through everything they looked at.
A body condemned to an existence stripped of all knowledge was not a body that lived; living is a natural instinct that allows beings to pull away from death. But Rey did not obey such instincts. He had no reason to—he knew nothing and had forgotten everything. Frail and vulnerable, his floating body remained at the crossroads, hovering on the verge of shattering into a thousand pieces.
Clara's voice, carrying the warmth of a worried mother through the twilight that filled the place, called out:
"Rey… Can you hear my voice? According to your energy flow, you've managed to unlock the first vortex. Return to consciousness, understand my words, and try to piece together your shattered unconscious. The next vortex is known as the cerebellum. Here, you will reconstruct yourself and process everything you once let go."
Out of nowhere, a single drop formed, hitting something in the void and sending countless ripples outward. That impact became an eye—white, with the silhouette of an infinite star at its center. It was Rey's eye. Another drop of scattered knowledge rose, and the second eye took shape. Another drop, and eyelids formed. More drops followed, until Rey's face was complete.
The floating head stretched into a neck. Then a chest. Arms. Abdomen. Pelvis. And finally, legs. Though the body was now whole, there was still a vast amount of knowledge left drifting around him.
Rey felt deeply alone in the midst of all that knowledge. Each drop hanging in the silence carried a sad memory. Little Paradise-guardian felines playing with their parents in a meadow. A shattered nest and broken eggs beneath the chill of a snowstorm. Adults gathered together while he sat apart among them, silent, not socializing—watching them and analyzing his surroundings. The shadow of pain soothing sadness.
Rey slowly closed his eyes, yet the tears still flowed inward, and the images burned even more vividly into him—until the last one sank into his mind and then left the place.
From within the fading twilight, Clara broke the heavy silence of solitude with her voice:
"Perfect. The next vortex is called the spinal cord. Its role is to connect the body with the mind. Through this vortex, the vital force of the first two flows through the entire body. It must be awakened by controlling reflex, sensation, movement, and pain. This vortex is not as complex as the previous ones, and since you are a fighter, you have an advantage…"
The scene warped into a tornado of flames, and the small boy's motionless body went up in fire as well. But he already knew how to ignore pain, and he knew this wasn't real.
Within the dawn of a new day, unfolding inside Rey's mind, Clara said:
"Good. We've finished with the three primary vortices, achieving total sensation and control over your body and mind. Now we can proceed to cleanse the seven secondary vortices."
Stepping into a place where eternity still continued, she went on:
"These seven vortices are known as chakras, and because you are not yet as contaminated by emotions as an adult would be, you'll be able to cleanse these energy points with relative ease…"
Like a soft breeze, the sorceress's naked body drifted toward her disciple. She circled him and, extending one hand, touched him with her index finger on his backside, right where the cleft of his buttocks began.
"Let's proceed. At the end of your spine is the root vortex. It is the base of your spine and your body. It is the first and the only one if you count from the bottom up. Focus on sensing the connection between the base of your body and what is material, solid, and firm. This chakra is the foundation that allows the tallest of trees to rise steady and imposing, no matter the conditions of the soil.
"When it's blocked, it's responsible for generating negative emotions like uprootedness, guilt, fear, and the feeling that you don't belong anywhere or have any reason to grow. It's also the vortex that interferes with concentration the most and affects emotional stability in the worst way…"
Facing the enormous vortex of negative energy, Rey felt a surge of questions demanding answers.
"Do I have a home where I can live and grow in peace? Why do I want to live? Is it worth it to become an adult? How far can I go? Am I okay with who I am?"
His answers rose from deep within him:
"Yes. The world is my home. The three planes are mine to live in, just as much as Heaven and Hell. I live because this is my chance. It's worth it to grow—and to grow even more. By surpassing the 'me' I am now, I'll go as far as I can possibly go, and I feel good about everything I am, everything I have, and everything I might one day be, have, or feel."
With that powerful conviction, the vortex unlocked, and the energy rose upward until it stopped again.
Clara slid her finger higher, circling the boy's body until she halted at a certain point:
"The next vortex is located in the lower abdomen, and it's called the sacral. Once you've found your anchor in the world, you have to spread life. That's why this chakra is linked to procreation, sex, and pleasure. When it's blocked or dormant, it generates guilt about continuing the species, fear of enjoyment, and clips the wings of your personality, making you shy, reserved, and held back."
Standing before the vortex, Rey felt uncertain about whether it was truly wrong to have sexual impulses toward those who helped him and stayed closest to him. Images drifted through the space—him licking Silvia's sex, the naked bodies he had seen, Edith washing him in the lake, and now Clara crouched just in front of him. All those scenes blended together into a strange mixture.
But after closing his eyes, he accepted what had been, and he stopped repressing what might one day happen. The images faded, and the energy continued to rise.
Captivated, Clara continued sliding her finger upward:
"The third vortex is in the center of the body, between the upper abdomen and the heart. Its name is the solar plexus, and when it's blocked, you don't have proper control of your breathing or digestion. This makes feelings like tiredness, lack of energy, inferiority, insecurity, dissatisfaction, and lack of confidence very common."
Rey was struck by the very words the White Witch had told him before. He clearly remembered that just one night earlier, his dissatisfaction with himself had skyrocketed. That memory came rising to the surface.
"My decisions are my own, and I take responsibility for them. I am in control of my emotions. I know what I want, and I trust I can obtain it relying solely on my own effort. I'm satisfied with surpassing myself and not having anyone else as my goal."
Clara, like someone wielding a sword against vengeful shadows that had been growing thicker around them, pressed on and pointed to the area with her fist closed:
"The next vortex is associated with the heart, and it's the largest of them all. As the catalyst of feelings, it's also responsible for feeding the flame of will. If this chakra, located in the center of the chest, is blocked, it generates emotions such as lack of love for your own life and for those around you, premature surrender in the face of demanding tasks, and a lack of core values in a person."
Rey came face to face with an enormous flame. He simply stepped aside and let the flow of energy move on as if nothing stood in its path.
Clara paused for a while. She was looking at the herald of pain standing right before her, and, to protect herself, she let out a soft breath.
"You were truly born with talent, little one. Not only are the fifth chakra, located in the throat, the sixth in the forehead, and the seventh at the crown of your head already unlocked, but the fourteen tertiary vortices are also clear—and you've just passed the initiation trial successfully. You can come out of the lucid dream and feel your new sorcerer's body."
When Rey vanished to return to the outer world, a curled-up body in one corner of that inner space raised its voice and spoke to the witch before she could leave:
"Clara?…"
She froze where she stood. Tears immediately began to spill down her face.
"Even after all this time… you remember my voice?" asked the one hiding behind mists and lies.
She nodded, a tender smile softening her features.
"Then rejoice, Clara. Your wish will finally come true… You never had any sins to atone for—neither did Ana. You don't have to go on being guardians, and I never imposed such a trivial concept on anyone. Both of you were always free to leave…"
The witch stepped forward, lifting her hands as if to reveal the face of the presence speaking to her, but a raised hand stopped her.
"At any moment now, my memories and the remnants of myself will completely fade from this body. It's the natural course… It seems my voice, my deeds, and the feats of my past will also end up forgotten. But remember that I always loved you both more than anything. Now, maybe I can finally go in peace…"
With tears in her eyes, the White Witch gave a gentle, affectionate smile as she watched an ancient, never-forgotten love disappear.
…
Rey opened his eyes, and with that, twenty-four lights flared to life—each a different color—spreading through the air and drowning out the glow of the lake. The surrounding water drew back, pushed away by the surge of energy spilling out of the boy's small body. Not only did the White Witch's hair whip wildly in every direction, but her body itself was nearly flung backward. She was still behind her disciple, yet even so, she clung to him with all her strength, refusing to let go.
Clara's tears were stripped away and dried by the wind as she held on tightly to the boy's body. So much power it even distorts the space around him! I have to stop him… she told herself, then shouted as loudly as her voice would allow:
"Rey, take a deep breath. Give yourself a moment to balance your energy until you notice the way you feel beginning to change. Use your imagination. Believe in your ability to control your body and form an imaginary bubble around yourself."
The atmosphere calmed, and the chaotic energy that had burst out was now trapped within circular walls.
"Now make that sphere smaller and smaller while you think about how infinite the space inside it is. Think of it becoming a cosmos, a galaxy, or a micro-world…"
The energy was successfully contained, and with that, the water returned to its place.
"Keep shrinking it until you can store it inside yourself."
The lake and the air both returned to normal.
"That will be your core. As a bit of advice, since I can see your inclination toward combat, you can connect it to the heart chakra for better performance in terms of willpower and fighting spirit. The passive energy your body gives off will turn into magical energy—ritual material. You can also turn this core into an inner world, one that connects to every point in your body as well as your subconscious."
Once the water had settled, Rey stared down at his hands in silence. Clara went on:
"Now that the vortices are balanced, rest and eat something until you return to your normal state."
But when she saw Rey give her a strange look, she threw a warning into the air:
"Listen. As long as you have energy, you won't need food. Your core will make you feel full and keep you from needing to defecate or urinate, but your body will stop aging and growing. Everything you eat will be stored as pure energy, not fat. Even so, I recommend that you eat even when you don't feel hungry and rest even when you don't feel sleepy. You're not a machine, and you can still make good use of those two functions to keep growing, developing, and adapting."
Rey, sounding a bit impatient, said:
"Rest? Now that I've finished opening the vortices is when I can finally cry out. Putting aside that I feel lighter and better, I don't think a break is necessary."
Letting a sigh drift into the air, the White Witch turned her back and stepped out of the water, with her disciple following close behind her like an adorable puppy begging for food. For Clara, the fact that Rey was so extraordinary was frustrating in its own way; something that took an average human a lifetime to complete, he had achieved in a single session.
"I can't remember the last time I felt this exhausted. Congratulations," she said.
With a bitter little smile, she continued:
"You're the only one of my disciples who has gone through the initiation process successfully in such a short time."
As she got dressed and tried not to look too uncomfortable about having been naked in front of someone else, she went on:
"Rey… your internal energy is… overwhelming. You mustn't use it indiscriminately, or people with weak minds around you might faint. That said—and after being exposed to it—even as a witch, I still have my limits as a human. Your power has blocked one of my chakras. When that happens, the others start to malfunction, and the sorcerer in question loses their inner balance."
He kept watching her, and she, no longer able to hide the truth, had to admit:
"Rey, I'm the one who needs to rest."
The witch met the boy's eyes. He still needed to keep learning and could absorb any information given to him. So why not? If he really is this extraordinary, he might be able to learn with nothing but instructions, she thought, then said aloud:
"Aaaaah, little one, to be able to 'cry out' at your level, you have two paths. The safest and most prestigious is to create your own grimoire and seal creatures, natural phenomena, and objects inside it. The second path is to use a book created by someone else. But that is not easy, because sorcerers guard their grimoires jealously—especially those they created themselves—since you can't cry out something that someone else is using at the same time.
"Because I don't use mine, I can give you my book, but as you'll understand…"
She made her book appear in midair.
Rey finished her sentence for her:
"It's not on my level, and I won't be able to alter the book's contents if I'm not the original creator."
Clara, as she dressed, made a little gesture of obviousness.
"Exactly. The few remaining summons left in this book are basic, and they would seriously restrict your potential. They would also stunt your growth as a sorcerer. Believe it or not, if you make a pact with a creature and foster values like trust, loyalty, and respect, it won't attack you when someone else tries to use it against you.
"Going back to the negative side, it's not like I know of another book or the conditions required to summon it. Take my advice instead: go in search of the Scholars' Library, which is located in the fifth circle of this place. Learn about the power of symbols and how to create your own book. Once you manifest it, seal every being you encounter throughout your life and create a work that lives up to the expectations of a talent as great as yours."
Rey, finishing getting dressed as well, said:
"To tell you the truth… I've found something better than the Scholars' Library. I'm already familiar with all that knowledge, but I don't have much time to create a book. I know which book I want."
Lifting her left eyebrow, the White Witch asked:
"Which one?"
"The Sanctuary of Athena," he answered, as if recalling something distant.
The woman standing there threw up on the ground the instant she heard the name. Clutching one hand to her stomach and the other to her mouth, she went on while wiping herself off:
"Impossible!!! How do you know the title of that book?!"
After forcing herself to recover from her shock, she continued:
"Rey, the original book was destroyed. I understand that if you recite the words or draw the magic circle on the cover, you can summon a copy into the present—but because those words have never been heard by mortal ears, and that symbol has never been seen by human eyes, many of the people I knew lost their lives, and entire civilizations fell just for trying to summon that book and failing in the process.
"Rey, just gazing upon a God-rank sorcery book makes you privileged. I was already surprised by the way you passed the initiation process and walked away unscathed. If you still feel confident and want to keep testing your luck…"
Rey nodded.
"…then proceed. I have no intention of stopping you. But I'm afraid I must leave: this is a battle I cannot accompany you in. Honestly, I want no part in the ritual of a book as horrifying as that one."
"Don't worry," he replied. "I still consider you worthy of being my teacher."
At those words, Clara turned on her heel and, as best she could, walked off the way she had come.
Rey hadn't expected such a reaction from the White Witch when he mentioned the name of the book his master always carried with him. Once the place was empty, the boy sat down on the ground, replaying the memory of the title's design in his mind, and began the ritual.
"Requirements to summon: three thousand hairs, which will form the pages of the book. According to the color of the hair, so will be the color of the pages."
Rey tore out his own hair and, after counting it, laid it out in front of him.
"Three nails, which will wrap around the pages as the cover."
With his teeth, he ripped his nails out from the root.
"Three liters of blood, which will be the ink. Red blood, red letters."
After cutting his wrist, he let out as much blood as he could.
"Three Horaes, administering energy to the symbol or the enchantment."
After drawing a symbol on the ground and enclosing his previous offerings within it, the boy stretched out his hands and, from his newly formed core, poured out energy as the final sacrifice. He felt confident. Every book on sorcery he remembered reading in Silvia's Library of Knowledge hadn't seemed that complicated.
Even so, something nagged at the back of his mind. Rey couldn't shake the memory of the White Witch's reaction.
He believed the process was relatively simple—too simple for so many people to have failed. So why had so many died trying? Digging deeper into his memory, now more than a little uneasy, he finally remembered: if the procedure failed, three thousand years of life would be taken. Three limbs—head included among the possibilities. Three organs, and three ribs would also have to be offered up as tribute to failure. They didn't necessarily have to come from the user, but if the user was the only one present, then he alone would bear the weight of the mistake.
Now very nearly worried, Rey thought:
Mmmm… Sorcerers guard their books obsessively. Heroclades refused to teach me sorcery so that, in battle, I wouldn't use the same summons he does. He knows I can see the symbol on the cover, and that makes him vulnerable to being robbed. If he leaves that symbol exposed, that means there has to be an extra security measure—a less obvious one.
Three thousand pages for three thousand hairs, but… what if the original book is missing a page? There's no way Heroclades would carry the original, since the pages are the same color as his hair. Plus, the title on the cover is blurred, and only the owner can alter the contents. If it were missing a page, would it still count as a copy of the original—or not?
All at once, in front of the pillar of offerings, a single page appeared. Just one page, covered in writing, scribbles, and letters. Rey remembered that the book whose images did not float was accompanied by a flower made of the same thin, fine, delicate material as the pages themselves.
The page before him was black, but it matched the size exactly and, of course, it bore the same scribbles, markings, and red strokes he remembered forming the flower his master had once held so carefully, in that moment when Rey had watched him through the window of his room.
Like someone who had just uncovered a hidden mechanism, Rey murmured to himself:
"This is the trial no one has been able to pass. You have to create a flower from the first page… So then—how do you shape a flower while you keep feeding energy into it to complete the book?"
…
Time passed, and passed again.
Eventually, curiosity dragging at her feet, Clara stepped cautiously back into the place. What she found was a body, misshapen and dismantled into pieces, scattered across the ground.
"Ha-ha, very funny. Stop using 'Aura' and show yourself," she said dryly.
The horrific scene blinked out of existence, and on the other side of the room a small boy appeared, almost hidden behind an enormous open book so large it dwarfed him completely.
The book was black, made of black pages and red letters. Clara clapped both hands over her mouth and rushed forward to get a closer look at what her disciple was holding and reading. She reached out for it with both hands like a curious child. Rey didn't hesitate even a second—he handed the massive volume over to his teacher.
"But how?" Clara asked, unable to believe what she was seeing.
"The answer is in the first page that appears," Rey explained. "You have to create a flower like this one to finish the process successfully. If you'd like, I can show you."
Clara, as if unable to ask for such a huge favor, replied:
"I won't be able to summon this book no matter how much I want to. My energy is only enough to materialize something with twelve pages and a cover. It's a specific curse I carry for failing to complete my initiation process correctly. Still… it wouldn't hurt to copy a few summons and add them to my own book."
"Do it as much as you like," Rey said lightly, as though it were the least he could offer in return for everything she had taught him.
Clara, easing back into her usual composure, asked:
"Then why did you take so long to come out?"
"I've been trying to understand why every time I attempt to 'cry out', I end up hurt and the movement never fully manifests. Maybe I'm cursed."
"Let me see you perform it, and I'll give you my opinion," Clara said gently, settling into the attentive stillness of a devoted spectator. She was just about to hand the great book back to the boy when she froze mid-motion, seeing him raise his arm into the air, suddenly serious.
With his hand extended, Rey launched a water projectile. It shot forward, then exploded—and the backlash jerked his arm backward. He clenched his fist, lowered his hand, and turned his gaze back toward his instructor. She was not behaving normally.
Clara, on the verge of fainting, lost her footing.
"You have to be at least 'specialist' level to perform silent spells," she said with a bitter smile. "I don't believe what my eyes are seeing. This has to be a dream. Even after all this time, I'm still just a mid-grade Wicca in the art of sorcery. That's why I can't use it in combat. I'm far too slow."
Rey, sharing his thoughts, began to explain:
"From what I've seen, my other master is advanced level. He can recreate and alter the book's patterns using a special ink, and he uses those loose pages to cry out while he fights. But I don't have access to any of that, so I tried a basic spell instead and, since it didn't end up possessing me or 'soaking' me, I found out I can do it."
Clara, like someone trying to explain something to a person who actually knew more than she did, said:
"Rey, no matter what level you're at, you must always control and adjust the amount of magical energy you offer in exchange. Even if you're extraordinary, if you cry out too quickly with something you haven't practiced, it's normal for that kind of backlash to happen. In short, you can't control your power because you lack practice."
She paused, then continued:
"Do the same thing you did—raise your arm—but this time, take a moment first. Breathe deeply and feel the energy."
Rey did as instructed.
"Now imagine—and judge for yourself—how much energy you need to perform the summon. Adjust the distance, think about the force, the speed, the solidity. Once you've charged those three factors, finish the spell…"
Following his instructor's guidance, the boy unleashed a powerful burst of water that shot all the way to the other side of the chamber and smashed against the far wall. Clara went on, as if she were no longer allowed to be surprised:
"You need to practice this kind of attack until your mind memorizes it and you can use it in combat. Remember that in a fight, you and your opponent are working with the same amount of time to act. As a sorcerer, your job is to find ways to optimize your movements and manage that time better than your opponent.
"You can turn your core into a barrier, even into a 'Zone', but if an opponent manages to destroy it…"
"I'll be left vulnerable and without any reserve energy to cry out with," Rey finished her sentence.
Clara nodded.
"Yes. Also, if you want to speed up your summoning process, it's best to use shortened incantations. According to the legends I've heard, shortened chants were designed specifically for combat…"
Her words trailed off. She didn't really know what else to say or teach. She just stared at her disciple, who stared right back at her as if trying to squeeze more knowledge out of her. Feeling the urgent need to change the subject, she asked:
"So, what do you plan to do now?"
Rey drew in a slow breath and answered:
"I have to go to Tartarus to drop Edith off."
Clara commented on the Reaper's situation:
"She was sleeping the last time I saw her."
Rey's expression flickered with surprise.
"Yes," Clara went on, "she's been training with Ana all this time. She said her goal was to defeat you, and that's why she decided to become stronger."
"Interesting. I hope she made some progress," Rey replied. "By the way—Tartarus is up above, isn't it?"
"Indeed…" Clara said, walking alongside her disciple as they headed back toward the castle. "I recommend you climb the levels of this place. It's made up of seven floors, and on each one you'll run into a headache of a person like my great-grandson, but I can guarantee that the peak is the closest point to Tartarus in all of Hell. If you shout loud enough, some 'cherub' will hear you and answer your call. They have wings, they can fly."
"If it's just about having wings, then I won't need them," Rey said after they had crossed the place and arrived where the little Reaper was.
Edith was sleeping at Ana's feet—but not like any ordinary child. In her sleep, you could see that worry and loneliness were what had exhausted her; with her eyes closed, she cried without realizing it, and those tears were the very reason Ana stroked her gently, like a concerned mother.
The "Elder of the Forest" also had the body of a young woman, with short hair the same light brown color as her eyes. Her build was strong and athletic. She wore loose, pale green garments and simple sandals.
Ana and Rey exchanged a few words in a distant greeting. As soon as the White Witch finished catching up and nearly vomited again upon hearing that the boy had summoned the most infamous book in the history of sorcery, she left the room together with Clara.
At the same time as the two White Witches walked out, White stumbled into the room, swaying from side to side. She looked like she had been training as well—and judging by the dampness of her fur, it had likely been against Clara's great-grandson.
Rey didn't really know how to wake the little Reaper. After glancing at his loyal companion, he turned his eyes back to Edith and, without overthinking it, slowly pulled away the blankets covering her.
"Without the blanket, maybe the cold will wake her up on its own," he guessed.
It didn't work. Edith merely rolled over, curled up tighter, and hugged a pillow.
Rey tried touching her shoulder, then gently nudging her head. He didn't want to be rougher than that, and he wondered if maybe she simply didn't want to wake up.
If my journey of taking her to Tartarus ends, everything will go back to how it was before for you, Rey thought, realizing that maybe the Reaper didn't want to wake up because she would have to go back to her boring life—the same life that might be giving her reasons to cry even in her sleep.
With her back turned to the boy and pretending she hadn't woken up, Edith spoke to herself in silence:
Back there, where I live, a harsh punishment is waiting for me. Several beatings… who knows how long without water or food between cold walls. I don't want to go back. I have to pretend I'm asleep, keep sleeping. Even if that means he might leave me behind. He's been focused on getting stronger, on suffering and fighting. As long as we stay together, I'll just be a burden on his shoulders… we don't even know each other that well for him to care so much about keeping his word.
White's soft sounds reached her ears.
I see… both that pup and I are a burden to you, but you refuse to let us go because you don't want to be alone. Someone as exceptional as you has a weakness: you're prone to growing attached to those who spend a little time by your side, even if they hurt you. Leave me here and pretend I never existed… it'll be better for both of us.
"In a book I read a word I hadn't been able to understand until now…" Rey said as he moved to sit down. Once he was beside the Reaper, he gently brushed aside the hair covering her left ear, as if he wanted to make sure she could hear him clearly. "Friendship. And when I read it, I asked myself: why is it that some beings, in particular, can become the best of friends? Maybe it's because they take their time to listen to other people's problems. Tell me, Edith, do you want to talk to me about what's tormenting you?"
The Reaper turned her face toward him and, eyes full of tears, threw her arms around the boy with all her strength—and the boy wrapped his arms around her in return. A child's sobs said more than any amount of words. The Reaper cried without holding back and without shame, crying until she truly fell asleep.
As it was the natural course of things, Rey lifted the little one into his arms and left the castle after saying his goodbyes to its residents. Once he reached the stone pavement at the entrance, under the open sky, Rey gave the place one last look before spreading his wings. White leapt up and climbed onto his head.
The two massive black wings beat hard, and the three small bodies rose from the ground. In a matter of seconds, they soared past the highest point of the castle. With a third and fourth beat, they cleared the first level. In this way they continued until they reached the sky, before the eyes of all the onlookers who clutched their heads in disbelief—for them, the very idea that an angel with black wings existed was shocking enough, and even more so that such a being was headed toward the heavens.
The divine radiance of the place vanished, replaced by a solid ceiling of branches and trunks that barred the boy's way. In the middle of that tangled roof was a hole they could slip through with a bit of maneuvering. Rey, like a bird of prey, gathered as much speed as he could, folded his wings close, and shot upward.
White's eyes saw what the other sky looked like for the first time. For the helpless little feline, the environment was something entirely new, and in response, the fur along her body stood on end at the sight of a hell made of horrific visions where only three colors reigned: the red of blood, the yellow of fire, and the gray of smoke. Thousands upon thousands of endless, unbroken screams rang out around them.
Giants with multiple heads and numerous limbs spotted the boy, roared, and tried to seize him, but failed. Instead, they managed to grab some of the other hideous creatures flying through the air and stuffed them straight into their mouths, devouring them in a single bite.
Rey beat his wings even harder. Hot winds, tempests, bones, fire, bolts of lightning, thunder, and crashing storms tried to knock him out of the sky, but the boy wrapped himself and his companions inside a barrier and continued to rise so that none of them would be harmed.
The Reaper knew nothing of what was happening. She slept on, cradled in the arms of the furious, nameless boy. White clung to him with all her strength; she even unsheathed her claws and dug them into his head until she made him bleed, but he didn't complain, knowing it was necessary to keep the feline from being torn away.
The sky of Hell—hidden behind red mist, smoke, and flames—seemed impossible to reach. Even so, the child ignored all common sense and kept flapping his wings. While any more reasonable being would have given up long ago, Rey had no intention of stopping until he reached his goal. With his sharp gaze, murderous intent, and bared teeth, he faced the gale that grew stronger with every moment, trying to crush his expanded core and tear away his barrier. His wings stretched beyond the protection, and though his limbs burned with exhaustion and he could barely keep flying, he pushed onward.
When Rey felt the muscles in his back were about to tear, when the feathers of his wings seemed to catch fire from the heat and he was on the verge of falling, he finally saw the underside of a floating platform—which had to be the much-spoken-of Tartarus.
Thanks to the strength of his will and the abundant energy stored in his core, Rey made it all the way to the top, surpassing limits he had already surpassed before.
With one last warlike roar, he transformed one of his hands into a claw. Lengthening his nails dramatically, he thrust forward in a stabbing motion without ever letting go of the Reaper he held in his other arm. Clouds, wind, and flames split apart before the violent surge.
The hole he opened wasn't even that large, and it sealed itself almost as soon as it appeared—but it was enough. In that brief instant, the three of them passed through and crashed onto the platform.
Edith's consciousness snapped back. As she took in her surroundings and Rey's face smeared with blood, she screamed hysterically.