Far from Ragnar's location, deep within a forest where the mist clung to the trees like a shroud, a lone figure moved without haste. He wore flowing white robes, the fabric dragging against the damp earth, whispering with each step. His skin was pale as bone, his face hidden beneath a porcelain mask that bore no expression—hence the name most whispered in fear: Faceless. Though his gait seemed aimless, his presence felt deliberate, like the forest itself bent away from him.
Out of the fog, a mansion emerged where there had been only shadows—its walls old, blackened wood that seemed to breathe with malice. Faceless stepped inside, and what greeted him was a grotesque display: dozens of corpses arranged neatly in lines, as though someone had curated the massacre. Their limbs were twisted, their faces frozen in horror, and their bodies mangled as if a wild beast had torn them apart but still taken the time to set them in order.
From the grand staircase, a man descended. He wore a crisp black suit, immaculate despite the carnage surrounding him. His neatly combed dark hair gleamed faintly in the dim light, and his thin glasses glinted like twin blades. His every movement radiated cold calculation—this was the Curator, the one who turned slaughter into art.
He adjusted his glasses and spoke with a voice that was calm but edged with irritation.
"Faceless… did you gather the information on Alys Voldric?"
Faceless tilted his masked head, clearly insulted by the doubt in the man's tone. His voice was smooth, but beneath it ran something sharp and mocking.
"Do you really think I'd fail a task that simple? I got everything we need."
Curator's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. Instead, his fingers tapped against the polished wood of the railing.
"And besides Alys… was there anyone else of interest?"
Faceless stroked his beard thoughtfully beneath the mask, recalling the exam.
"No one worth mentioning. There was a boy who toyed with portal magic. A cute trick, but his strength was laughable. Fragile. Like paper."
Curator let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the incompetence of others weighed him down.
"If even you call him weak, then he's of no use to me."
Faceless let out a low chuckle.
"And Alys? She's weak too. Her strength isn't impressive in the slightest."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. The mansion groaned under the weight of the corpses, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood. A tension brewed, sharp enough to cut.
Curator broke it first, his gaze colder than before.
"Faceless… strength is irrelevant. You do understand we don't want her for her power, don't you?"
Faceless tilted his head again, his voice carrying a mocking amusement.
"Of course I do. But still… wouldn't it be more fun if she was a little stronger? Prey that struggles is so much sweeter than prey that just… lies there."
Curator's lips curled into a faint smile, the kind that never reached his eyes.
"Perhaps. But what matters is obedience. What matters is the will of our god."
At the mention of their god, both men fell silent for a heartbeat, as though the very name demanded reverence. The candles flickered violently, though neither man had touched them.
"We must begin preparations. Alys Voldric will be taken soon."
Faceless chuckled, this time darker, more sinister.
"Taken? Hah. You make kidnapping sound so… dull. Let me add a little artistry to it, hmm? A little chaos. A little fear."
Curator's eyes swept across the rows of bodies, his composure cracking only slightly.
"Do whatever pleases you… but first, send word to Beastqueen. This slaughter—" he gestured to the mangled corpses "—was her work. And she will clean her own mess."
Faceless let out another laugh, long and unsettling, echoing through the mansion halls.
"Beastqueen won't like being told what to do… but I'd love to see her reaction. Perhaps she'll leave us another 'art piece' when she's done."
The two men stood amidst death, plotting in whispers. The mansion seemed to breathe around them, alive with malice, while unseen eyes seemed to watch from the shadows.
---
At the Wyrd Mansion
The halls were still heavy with silence after Ragnar's sudden awakening. His raw scream had left everyone shaken, like the echo of it still clung to the walls.
Then—
"Rag…nar!"
Lilly threw herself at her brother, hugging him so tightly her small arms trembled. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her little voice cracking.
"You're okay! I thought you were gone again!"
Ragnar gave a tired smile, gently patting her her head
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just… out for a bit, that's all."
His words were light, but his eyes carried confusion he couldn't explain.
Alys, who had been silently observing, moved closer to Merlin. Her expression was serious, almost protective.
"Does Ragnar always wake up shouting like that? This is the second time today…"
Light crossed his arms and nodded grimly.
"I thought it was a one-off earlier. Guess I was wrong."
Merlin's brows knitted as she searched her memory.
"No… Ragnar's never shown this behavior before. Not once."
Meanwhile, Magna noticed Lilly nearly squeezing the life out of Ragnar.
"Alright, alright, that's enough. You're gonna strangle him if you keep hugging like that."
He gently pried her off, though Lilly pouted and clung even harder before reluctantly letting go.
Vincent, the house doctor, stood a little apart from the group, staring blankly into the distance, lost in his thoughts. His voice came low, half to himself.
"Maybe it's because of that training he was doing… while he was gone last week."
The others considered it, but there wasn't much else they could come up with. No answers—only unease.
They tried asking Ragnar what he saw, what he felt, but he just shook his head, frustration flickering across his face.
"I… I don't remember. Faces, maybe. But I don't know who. It's just… gone."
The room went quiet. None of them pressed further.
As the night drew closer, Alys, Magna, and Light had to return home. They promised Ragnar they'd meet at school, though each had their own restrictions that would keep them in check for a while.
Ragnar waved them off, forcing a smile despite the weight in his chest. But before he could drift into thought, Lilly tugged at his sleeve.
"Big brother, let's go play with my dolls!"
Ragnar froze. His instincts screamed to turn her down, to rest instead. But Lilly's wide, determined eyes made refusal impossible.
"…Fine. Just for a little while."
Her whole face lit up, dragging him off. Soon, the boy who had just been screaming like his soul was tearing apart was seated on the floor, awkwardly holding a tiny porcelain doll. Lilly giggled at how stiff he was, her laughter chasing away the lingering fear from earlier.
The night passed lightheartedly, and for a moment, the Wyrd mansion felt like home again.
---
At the Voldric Manor
Elsewhere, the mood was nothing but cruel. The Voldric estate stood cold and towering, its marble halls echoing with raised voices.
Inside, Duke Evaton Voldric loomed over his son like a viper ready to strike. His formal attire was flawless, polished boots gleaming, but his eyes burned with contempt.
Duke Voldric (roaring): "You useless child! You dare disgrace the Voldric name with such failure? Do you know the worth of the name you carry? It is worth more than your miserable, filthy life!"
Magna stood trembling, fists clenched at his sides, trying to swallow the fear clawing up his throat. He forced himself to speak.
"I… I tried my best, fa—"
The word never finished. The Duke's fist drove into Magna's stomach with brutal force. He collapsed to the floor, gasping, choking on air that refused to fill his lungs.
Duke Voldric (snarling): "Don't you dare call me 'father.' I have no son who fails me so pathetically."
Magna coughed violently, clutching his stomach, his body writhing from the blow. But the Duke wasn't finished. He bent low, voice dripping venom.
"Why can't you be more like your twin sister? Alys carries herself with grace. With potential. You… are nothing but dead weight."
He turned sharply, cape swaying as he left Magna sprawled on the cold marble. His footsteps echoed until silence returned.
From behind one of the tall doors, Alys stepped out, her eyes already wet with tears. She had been hiding, too terrified to move until their father was gone.
She rushed to her brother, kneeling beside him.
"Magna… I'm sorry. I wanted to help, but… I couldn't. I didn't have the strength to face him."
She sobbed quietly, ashamed.
Magna coughed, finally drawing in a painful breath. He forced a weak smile, even while his body trembled.
"Don't apologize, Alys. None of this is your fault. I don't blame you. I blame him. The man who calls himself our father. He's the reason we live in this hell."
Alys gripped his hand tightly, her tears falling onto his skin. For the rest of the night, the twins sat together in the cold of the Voldric estate, drawing comfort from each other in the shadow of their father's cruelty.
---
Ragnar's Week Off
The next morning, Ragnar woke to the soft clink of porcelain. Merlin entered his room carrying a tray with tea. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the room gold.
Merlin (smiling faintly): "You've worried everyone enough, Ragnar. Drink this, and try to take it easy."
Ragnar (stretching): "Easy? With only a week left before school starts again? Nah… I need to get stronger."
Merlin raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She knew his stubbornness too well.
---
Day 1 – Sword Practice with Magna
Later that day, Ragnar met Magna in the training yard. Magna still looked worn from the night before, but he forced a grin.
Magna: "If I can still stand, you can bet I'll still train. Come on, let's see what you've got."
They sparred with wooden swords, the clack of wood echoing in the yard. Ragnar's strikes were wild, his energy overflowing, while Magna's were precise but slower, his injuries making him wince.
Magna (panting): "You're strong… but strength without control is useless."
Ragnar scowled, frustrated at how his body felt both too heavy and too fast at once, like something inside him was pushing against his veins.
---
Day 2 – Mana Control with Merlin
Merlin sat Ragnar down in the library, books and candles surrounding them.
Merlin: "Your mana is unstable. If you can't channel it properly, it will consume you."
She had him sit cross-legged, hands open, focusing on pulling his mana into a small orb of light. At first, it burst violently, cracking the table beneath them.
Ragnar (gritting his teeth): "Tch… again."
By the end of the day, he managed to form a flickering sphere, sweat dripping down his face. Merlin nodded approvingly, though worry still lingered in her eyes.
---
Day 3 – Playtime with Lilly
After two days of grueling work, Ragnar tried to slip away to train again, but Lilly cut him off, hands on her hips.
Lilly (pouting): "No! You promised to spend time with me too! Big brothers don't break promises!"
She dragged him outside to the garden, where they played tag until Ragnar was too winded to continue. Lilly laughed so hard she fell over, clutching her stomach. For Ragnar, it was embarrassing—but also… freeing.
Ragnar (smiling to himself): "Guess even warriors need breaks."
---
Day 4 – Alys' Guidance
Alys invited Ragnar to join her for practice in magical theory. She showed him basic rune inscriptions and mana channels, her explanations calm and patient.
Alys: "Don't rush it. Feel the flow, don't fight it. Mana isn't an enemy, Ragnar."
Ragnar tried, but every rune he carved glowed too brightly and shattered. He cursed under his breath, but Alys put a hand on his shoulder.
Alys (softly): "Don't be so hard on yourself. Power isn't built in a day."
Her words stuck with him.
---
Day 5 – Training with Light
Light challenged Ragnar to endurance training—running laps around the estate, lifting weights, and sparring bare-handed. Unlike Magna, Light's style was brutal and fast.
Light (grinning): "Stop holding back! If you break, you break. That's how you find your limit."
By the end, Ragnar was sprawled on the ground, every muscle burning. But for the first time, he felt… steady. Like his body was beginning to sync with the energy inside him.
---
Day 6 – Quiet Reflection
That night, Ragnar sat alone under the stars, his sword laid across his lap. The night was still, but within him was a storm.
Ragnar (thinking): "Why me? Why is my mana so different… so violent? If I don't figure this out, I'll drag everyone down."
The memory of his scream echoed in his mind. He clenched his fists.
Ragnar: "I won't lose control again. I swear it."
---
Day 7 – Family Dinner
The week ended with everyone gathered around the dinner table—Merlin, Vincent, Lilly, and Ragnar. For once, there was laughter instead of tension. Lilly chattered endlessly about how she beat Ragnar at dolls and tag, while Merlin teased him gently.
For a moment, Ragnar let himself relax. The storm inside was still there, but he wasn't facing it alone.