Chapter 14
It was nighttime when there was movement on the bed beside Azek.
He lay still with his eyes closed and listened.
Something was being lifted and carried away.
Soft whispers.
Someone crying in the hallway.
The student had passed away.
Azek bit his lip and swallowed the bitter sensation rising in his throat.
The news had already spread throughout the academy by morning, and the Church had sent a Bishop and two priests early that day.
The body was to be cremated with holy fire, and only ashes would be returned to the mourning family for the funeral rites.
The whole academy gathered in the open assembly area.
The fire burned.
Ashes remained.
The priests recited prayers for the departed soul.
Holy water was sprinkled.
Sobs echoed all around.
The boy's mother collapsed.
And Azek watched the entire scene from the infirmary window.
Slowly, he drew the curtains shut.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes. He had been experimenting with mana threads all night and had discovered something.
Even after eighteen hours, symptoms had still not appeared.
He returned to his bed and did not know when he drifted to sleep.
He woke to a gentle sensation on his hand.
The same person who had injected mana into him the previous day stood there. His eyes were kind, just as before.
"How are you feeling?" the soft voice asked.
Azek only shook his head.
"You don't know?"
He nodded.
The healer made no further comment. After finishing the treatment, he drew the curtain closed.
Outside, a distant voice sounded.
"How is it?"
"The girl is showing symptoms, but the boy is still in the incubatory phase."
The soft voice faded away.
Azek couldn't hear anything else.
Incubatory phase?
He hadn't read or heard about anything like that.
Is it the time before the infection spreads?
He pondered.
A thin, needle-like mana thread extended from his hand.
The particles at its tip began rotating.
He concentrated—
and slowly pushed the rotating particles into the black mass.
His head throbbed. His eyes felt as if they would bulge from their sockets.
The pain was unbearable.
The first time he tried this method, he had nearly lost consciousness.
But now he gritted his teeth and endured the burning sensation spreading throughout his body.
He held on as long as he could.
Soon, black blood trickled from his nose—
then from his ears.
The veins on his hands bulged and burst, spurting darkened blood.
But Azek didn't stop..
The black mass he was tampering with had begun shrinking.
This was the first time he had succeeded.
On his first attempt, he had fainted before the mana thread even reached the mass.
On the tenth, he collapsed the moment the needle touched it.
Until now, it had been repeated failure.
But he was on the verge of life and death.
He didn't know if he would have the strength to endure this hell again.
So he had to succeed.
Death was the only other option.
He pushed the mana needle toward the core of the black mass.
The mana was consumed rapidly.
The needle began dissipating.
The black mass shrank and began turning dark red at its center.
The needle pulsed, sending waves inward.
It felt as though his brain was on fire.
Blood trailed from his eyes.
His consciousness flickered in and out.
Finally, the mana needle dissolved completely.
Where it had ended, the core had turned a deep red.
The searing pain gradually subsided.
He released the fragile control he held over the spell.
Azek let out an exhausted breath—
and collapsed unconscious.
The funeral service was still ongoing when he heard the clock tower chime.
Azek tried to see through his blurred vision.
How much time had passed?
He attempted to rise but lacked even the strength to lift a finger.
The clock tower showed 9 a.m.
The service had begun around 8 a.m.
Barely an hour had passed.
He slowly pushed himself upright.
His bedsheet was dyed in blackish-red stains.
His shirt and hands were smeared with blood.
The memory of the ordeal returned.
With great difficulty, he made his way to the bathroom.
Blood covered his body.
Proof of what he had endured.
He closed his eyes and extended a mana thread.
Carefully, he reached toward the core and examined himself.
The black mass had visibly shrunk.
The core area now resembled a muted red—not bright, but no longer pitch black.
It had taken root beside his mana circle.
The edges remained dark, threaded with deep crimson veins.
The poison was not completely gone.
He canceled the spell.
A flicker of excitement rose within him.
He had done it.
He had defied the death sentence imposed upon him.
Splash.
After washing himself, he gathered the bedsheets and cleaned everything in the bathroom, including his uniform.
He searched through the infirmary and found a cabinet of mana stones for emergency use.
Taking an air mana stone, he dried everything thoroughly.
He still didn't want anyone discovering what was happening to him.
The funeral had provided the perfect opportunity.
Afterward, he sneaked into the mess hall kitchen and stuffed himself with stolen food; his stomach had been growling nonstop.
When he returned and lay down—
he immediately drifted into a deep sleep.
And for 3 days he didn't wake up.