After what seemed like an eternity lying on the ground, panting and drenched in sweat, Eamon finally gathered the strength to stand. The sky had dimmed to a soft hue of violet. The evening breeze cooled his burning skin, but every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he dragged himself back inside the cottage.
The smell of food pulled him in like a beacon. Inside, Arvin was at the stove, stirring something warm and fragrant in an old iron pot. The room was lit with soft golden lanterns, and for a moment, it felt like the chaos of the day had been a fever dream.
Arvin looked over his shoulder as Eamon entered.
"You took longer than I expected," he said with a smirk. "But I figured you'd still have an appetite."
Eamon dropped onto the wooden chair by the table without a word. He looked half-dead, but his eyes lit up as Arvin placed a bowl of thick stew and warm bread in front of him.
Eamon didn't wait. He dug into the food like a starving wolf, barely stopping to chew. His spoon scraped against the bottom of the bowl within minutes.
"That good, huh?" Arvin chuckled.
Eamon looked up, still chewing a mouthful, and swallowed hard. "What was all that, Grandpa Arvin?" he asked, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. "You trying to kill me?"
"I wanted to see how strong you really were," Arvin replied, placing a glass of cool water beside him. "And clearly, you're not strong enough yet."
Eamon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned back.
"But Grandpa… we can't waste time like this! I need to find the Obsidian Seraphs. The longer I wait, the more dangerous this curse becomes."
Arvin turned away, slowly placing the pot back on the stove.
"You still don't understand the gravity of your situation," he said, voice low but firm. "The puppets you fought today? They weren't even half as powerful as the real Torkes. And in twenty-six days, on the night of the new moon, hundreds of those things will come for you. They won't be using wooden swords, Eamon. And they definitely won't be coming just to hurt you. They'll come to kill."
Eamon's brows furrowed, his hand tightening around the empty spoon.
"But I might have a better chance if I'm allowed to use magic. You didn't let me use any spells today. That put me at a huge disadvantage!"
"You think spells will save you?" Arvin asked, turning to face him. "You think you'll just burn them all away with a few fireballs and lightning strikes? Eamon, the more Torkes you kill, the more they'll appear. You'll burn through your mana in the first few hours, and then what? You'll be left defenceless."
He sat down across from Eamon, folding his arms.
"Your body isn't ready. Your mana core is underdeveloped. You can't pour water from an empty jug, boy. You want to wield powerful spells, then you need a strong vessel to contain and control them."
Eamon looked away, frustration evident in his clenched jaw.
"But this curse… I have to lift it soon. Isn't it smarter to begin the journey now, before I get dragged into something worse?"
Arvin let out a sigh, slow and deliberate.
"You really think you can face the dark creatures of every new moon and simultaneously hunt down the legendary Obsidian Seraphs? All while evading the royal armies of nearly every nation? Don't be naïve son. At your current level, you'll die before you even find the first Seraph."
Eamon didn't answer. He stared at the flickering candle on the table, the flame dancing with every breath of wind.
"Then what do you suggest I do?" he finally asked.
Arvin leaned forward, his gaze intense.
"Before the next new moon, we focus on building you up. We strengthen your body, and we expand your mana core. You'll train like never before. No shortcuts. No mercy."
The silence between them thickened for a moment.
Eamon took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright. I understand. I may have underestimated what I'm dealing with."
Arvin softened a little. "Good. That's the first step. Accepting your weakness."
He paused for a moment, then added, "There's something else I want to discuss with you. It's just a theory, but one I believe is highly probable."
Eamon straightened up. "What is it?"
"The curse you carry—'The Revenant's Embrace', it's not just some random punishment. It's divine. The gods marked you. That means the curse was crafted with intent, with layers. I don't think the Torkes are the only consequence you'll face."
Eamon's brow furrowed. "What are you trying to say?"
"I think that with every Obsidian Seraph you defeat… the creatures that hunt you on new moons will grow stronger. Think about it. If a powerful mage had been cursed like you, they'd easily wipe out a hundred Torkes. That'd make the curse meaningless. No. The punishment would have to scale."
He stood and began pacing slowly.
"If someone dares to use the most forbidden dark spell ever crafted, the punishment would be equally devastating. The Torkes are just the beginning. Eventually, you'll face zombies, then hellhounds… maybe even goblins, revenants, or worse."
Eamon's throat went dry. The idea made terrifying sense. The curse wasn't just a death sentence—it was a prolonged game of survival, one that would only get harder the closer he got to breaking it.
"It makes sense," he said slowly. "But how do I deal with that, Grandpa? What can I possibly do to stay ahead of something like that?"
Arvin's eyes gleamed with determination.
"You become strong. Very strong. Stronger than you've ever imagined. You'll need to keep evolving, training, adapting. Until the next new moon, I'll push you beyond your limits. You will bleed, fall, cry—but you'll have to get up every time. Because failure means death from now on. This training won't be easy. It will be brutal. And I will definitely not go easy on you."
Eamon looked at Arvin, the lines on his old face more worn than he remembered. There was pain in his eyes, perhaps from the past. From the death of his only friend, from Eamon being stuck with such deadly curse. Or perhaps from knowing what lay ahead for Eamon.
He stood up, legs still aching, and faced Arvin directly.
"Okay, Grandpa Arvin," he said, voice steady. "I'll do whatever it takes to become stronger. I'll become so powerful that even the heavens will notice me, and right in-front of their eyes, I'll lift this damn curse. And for that, I'll face any training, no matter how hard it is."
He clenched his fists; teeth gritted with resolve.
"I won't die. I'll break this curse by facing every dark realm's creature that comes my way."