Chapter 13: Curse and Blessings  

…!  

Abel’s face registered shock. Recovering quickly, he answered, “Yes, that’s Lord Gron’s residence.”  

Gaon, still eyeing the building, continued, “We should treat him immediately.”  

He couldn’t discern Gron’s exact condition without examining him, but the sinister nature of the sorcery suggested time was critical. 

Acting fast was essential.  

…!  

Abel’s shock deepened. 

Hesitantly, he asked, “Are you saying you’ve identified Lord Gron’s condition?”  

Gaon nodded silently. He didn’t know the specifics yet, but one thing was certain: whatever the condition, he could handle it.  

***

“What does that mean?”  

Oris shot to his feet. “He can treat him immediately?”  

“Yes, my lord,” Blanc replied. “He says he’ll begin as soon as you arrive.”  

Oris rushed from his study toward Gron’s residence, speaking with Blanc en route.  

“Could it be a setup?”  

They’d scoured every avenue to diagnose Gron’s illness, to no avail. 

Yet Gaon claimed he could treat it upon arrival. It seemed suspicious—perhaps a ploy by Gardion Tower.  

“It’s possible, but unlikely,” Blanc said. Initially, he’d considered the same, but Gardion had no reason for such a crude scheme.  

Arriving at Gron’s residence, Oris saw his son—pale, gaunt, lying motionless—and a young mage, Gaon, standing before him.  

…!  

Oris flinched upon seeing Gaon. 

Abel had mentioned his extraordinary presence, which Oris hadn’t fully grasped until now.  

“I’m Oris,” he said, bowing politely.  

“Gaon,” Gaon replied curtly.  

Some knights frowned at his tone but held back, as Oris remained unfazed and the situation demanded restraint.  

Well-disciplined, Gaon thought, assessing the knights before turning to Oris.  

As a count, Oris could’ve taken offense at Gaon’s casual speech, but he showed no sign of it, only a grave focus.  

“Can you truly heal him?” Oris asked, his voice heavy with sincerity.  

Gaon nodded.  

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll procure it as quickly as possible.”  

“Nothing’s needed. I can start now.”  

…!  

Oris was stunned. No requirements?  

“Before I begin…” Gaon paused, scanning the room. “Mind if I deal with a rat first?”  

…!  

Oris’s eyes sharpened. Gaon wasn’t referring to a literal rat but a spy or traitor.  

Oris glanced around—only knights and maids, stationed to prevent any incidents.  

“Is there proof?”  

“Yes.”  

“Then handle it.”  

It was their first meeting, yet Oris felt an instinctive trust. 

He’d met only two others who inspired such confidence: Adella, Seionia’s First Saintess, and Spelton Shutarren, patriarch of the continent’s strongest sword family. Both were unparalleled in ability and status.  

He must hold a high position in the tower.  

Oris was certain Gaon was no ordinary mage, despite his youthful appearance. 

His speech, actions, and aura suggested he was hiding his true self for some reason.  

Crack!  

A freezing sound echoed.  

…!  

Oris whipped his head toward the source. Gron’s personal maid was encased in ice.  

The incantation speed…!  

Oris had seen countless mages, including those above 5th Circle, but Gaon’s casting rivaled theirs.  

Then, the maid’s skin darkened, her eyes glowing red.  

Crack… crack…  

Fractures appeared in the ice.  

But before she could break free—  

Whoosh!  

A gust of wind sliced through, cleaving her in half.  

Roar!  

Flames erupted from the floor, precisely burning only her body—an astonishing display of control.  

When the flames vanished, nothing remained.  

Oris swallowed hard, looking at Gaon. As expected.  

Gaon was no ordinary mage—a high-ranking Gardion Tower member, no doubt. 

Others in the room, including the knights who’d bristled at Gaon’s tone and Blanc, now regarded him with newfound respect.  

“Let’s begin,” Gaon said, placing a hand on Gron’s forehead and channeling Pacheongi.  

Didn’t expect someone using this curse.  

Gron wasn’t ill—he was cursed, one Gaon knew well.  

Remnants survived?  

Seventy years ago, by current reckoning, Gaon had eradicated the organization using this curse, leaving no survivors—or so he thought. Apparently, remnants lingered.  

Using Pacheongi, Gaon destroyed the ten curse marks embedded in Gron’s body, burning their remnants cleanly. Within a minute, he finished and withdrew his hand.  

“Ugh…”  

Gron stirred, opening his eyes.  

…!  

Oris rushed to his side. “Are you awake?”  

“Father? What’s…”  

Gron trailed off, slipping back into sleep.  

“He’ll wake again in a day,” Gaon said.  

Oris, about to ask for details, nodded in understanding.  

Then Gaon turned to the maids. “Was that maid’s room next door?”  

They nodded in unison.  

Gaon left Gron’s room and entered the adjacent one. 

It seemed ordinary—most would find nothing amiss. But Gaon wasn’t most people.  

He picked up a small doll on the bed and smirked.  

Look at this.  

The doll was imbued with sorcery—the same kind as the librarian’s concealed power.  

Not an ordinary organization.  

Gaon considered confronting the librarian. 

By now, they’d likely noticed the curse’s destruction and would flee if he didn’t act fast.  

Roar!  

The doll’s sorcery vanished.  

Too late.  

The speed was uncanny—too fast to catch now.  

Well, I’ve memorized the sorcery’s signature.  

He’d recognize it if they crossed paths again. 

Setting the doll down, Gaon turned as Oris entered.  

“Thank you,” Oris said earnestly. “I don’t know how to repay you.”  

“I’d like to talk privately,” Gaon said, glancing at Blanc.  

Oris signaled, and Blanc bowed, leaving the room. 

Gaon used Pacheongi to create a barrier against eavesdropping.  

“First, let’s clear up a misunderstanding.”  

“Misunderstanding?”  

“I’m not the mage Gardion Tower sent.”  

Gardion mages were due soon. 

If they arrived while Gaon was here, confusion would arise. 

It was better to prevent the misunderstanding now than resolve it later.  

“What?” Oris asked, bewildered.  

“I am with Gardion Tower,” Gaon clarified. “But I’m here by coincidence, on my way to the tower.”  

“Oh, so more mages are coming?”  

“Yes. Mind if I stay until they arrive?”  

“Of course! We’d be grateful!” Oris beamed.  

Gaon was Gron’s savior, and staying offered a chance to build ties with a high-ranking mage.

There was no reason to refuse.  

“I was worried you’d leave immediately,” Oris added. “We’ll treat you well during your stay. And…”  

He reached into his coat, pulling out a small box.  

…!  

Gaon’s eyes widened. 

The box bore Kerhen’s high-grade emblem.  

“You recognize it,” Oris said, smiling faintly. “A family heirloom.”  

He opened the lid.  

…!  

Gaon’s eyes gleamed at the contents—a green orb.  

“Luel’s Blessing?” he asked, confirming.  

Oris nodded. “Yes, Luel’s Blessing.”  

It was indeed the rare elixir from Seionia, produced only ten times a year. 

Gaon had consumed just fifteen in his past life—a top-tier treasure.  

“I want you to have it,” Oris said.  

“For the treatment…”  

Luel’s Blessing could push Gaon past the 4th Circle. 

But accepting it outright felt wrong.  

“It’s too much.”  

Removing Gron’s curse wasn’t easy, but this was excessive. 

Accepting it might obligate him further, and Oris, owning a Kerhen high-grade artifact, surely knew its value.  

Oris, still smiling, said, “I’m not offering this to curry favor with the tower or make requests. 

I simply want a small bond with you, Gaon. 

Please accept it without burden.”  

“Alright, I’ll take it,” Gaon replied, smiling back.  

With such sincerity, he couldn’t refuse.  

Oris handed over the orb, and Gaon stored it in his pouch.  

“Can I borrow a training room?” Gaon asked.