What they saw wasn't the lean body of a seventeen-year-old boy.
It was a body covered in scars—brutal, endless scars. Old wounds, fresh gashes, long blade cuts, bruises layered upon bruises. His skin was a map of torment.
"A-Al… your… your body…" Sandra's voice broke as she rushed forward.
"Al… what happened to you?" she whispered, her face drained of color. She looked like she might collapse, held upright only by instinct.
Her knees nearly gave out as her breath hitched—she had never seen pain carved so deeply into flesh.
Edward's lips parted, but no words came out.
He couldn't comprehend it. For someone like him, even a small wound was already terrifying— let alone having to endure that many, and that deep.
Al glanced around the room, saying nothing at first.
"Huff… I told you. You'd regret it," he muttered as he walked back toward the ritual circle.
No one knew how to react. They could only stare at him in silence.
Al sat down lazily, then looked up.
"So? Hurry up and do it. I've already taken my clothes off."
Edward and Sandra hurried forward, while Sarah and Aurielle remained where they were, averting their gazes—too horrified to keep looking at Al's body.
"Al… what happened to you?" Edward asked, fighting back the chill crawling up his spine. "Where did all these wounds come from?"
Al glanced down at himself, lightly touching a few of the scars.
"This… there are quite a lot of them. I can explain them one by one another time," he said casually. "But in short, this is the result of how I lived out there. In a harsh world."
His tone was calm—so calm it was as if the scars no longer carried any emotion worth acknowledging.
Guilt slowly seeped into Edward and Sandra's hearts.
An overwhelming urge rose within them—to pull Al into an embrace, to give him warmth after all the suffering he had endured outside.
Yet at the same time, the sheer horror of his wounds rooted them in place, making it hard to step any closer.
Sandra turned to Ramu.
"Ramu… does Al really have to take off his clothes?" she asked quietly.
Ramu fell silent for a moment. He, too, was still shaken by the sight of Al's body. In the end, he nodded.
"That is how it's supposed to be," he replied. "But don't worry. I'll do it quickly. If you can't bear to watch, you may turn away. What matters is that you're present."
Edward and Sandra could only nod in response.
Not long after, Ramu took out a small earthen jug and a needle.
He pricked Edward's and Sandra's fingers, drawing a small amount of blood and dripping it into the holy water inside the jug.
Edward and Sandra stood within two small magic circles in front of Al, each connected by straight lines to the magic circle where Al sat.
As Ramu began chanting, a strange magical phenomenon unfolded.
The bodyguards—those sensitive to magical energy—felt something deeply unsettling, though they could see nothing.
The same was true for Sarah, Aurielle, Edward, and Sandra, none of whom could use magic.
But to Al's eyes, it was crystal clear.
Blackish-purple energy seeped out from the jug.
At the same time, gray energy rose from the magic circles beneath his parents' feet, creeping along the lines toward Al's circle.
The flow wasn't fast—it moved rhythmically, as if following the cadence of Ramu's chant.
Clever, Al thought. He's trying to siphon my parents' luck as well, using the magical connection between parents and child as an excuse.
But that won't work. Hehe.
David could see the phenomenon too.
Hmph… this man really is greedy, he thought. Was draining the luck of those orphanage kids still not enough for him?
Still… I'm curious. How much luck does this kid even have left? A child with great destiny… huh. Does he even have any luck remaining after living such a miserable life out there?
Interesting.
Meanwhile, Ramu had already stepped in front of Al and slowly—carefully—began pouring the water from the jug onto his body, little by little.
Al could only tilt his head slightly, blocking the flowing water so it wouldn't enter his mouth.
Before long, Ramu had moved and sat cross-legged behind him.
Good. Good. Everything is going smoothly, Ramu thought. Now then… let's see how much luck this brat still has left. Hehe.
He extended both hands. Dark, murky energy gathered at his palms.
Tap.
His hands landed on Al's back.
He deliberately chose an area with fewer scars. Even though the wounds had long since dried, the sight of them still made him uncomfortable.
But then—
For some reason, despite the uneven surface left behind by countless scars, the sensation beneath his palms felt… smooth.
Almost unnaturally so.
Soft.
Ramu frowned slightly.
Strange…
He dismissed the thought almost immediately.
Must be the water, he concluded. The effect of the ritual medium.
Little by little, the dark energy began creeping over Al's body.
At the same time, the rest of it flowed along the ritual symbols carved into the floor, stretching outward toward Edward and Sandra—wrapping around them as well.
Ramu formed a faint smile as he continued chanting.
Al did the same. A far more cunning smile flickered beneath his lazy expression.
He could feel the energy clearly.
It was cold—unpleasant. And beneath that chill came another sensation, as if thousands of mosquitoes were stabbing into him at once, trying to suck something out from deep inside his body.
Do you even know what you're trying to drain? Al thought mockingly.
Behind him, Ramu had already begun inhaling what he believed to be luck essence.
But instead of the familiar sensation… he felt something else.
Hmph? What is this? This doesn't feel right… it's never felt like this before, he thought.
He didn't think much of it. Instead… he kept siphoning. And siphoning..
More than ten minutes passed.
Ramu was actually quite pleased.
The child in front of him seemed to possess an enormous amount of 'luck'—so much that he could keep drawing it out endlessly.
Until—
No… wait—!
His eyes flew open. His expression twisted.
This isn't luck… it's bad luck! So this whole time, I've been absorbing bad luck instead?And this much of it?! Damn it!
He stared at Al.
This child—
He didn't have even a shred of luck.
His body was overflowing with…
Bad luck.
The bitter truth slammed into Ramu like a hammer.
How could someone even stay alive while carrying this much bad luck? And worse—I had already absorbed a massive amount of it.
Panicking, he tried to pull his hands back.
Huh?... Why can't I move them?!
He shook his arms, panic rising rapidly.
Al shifted slightly, his body swaying from Ramu's frantic movements, and spoke up.
"Is something wrong?" he asked innocently. "Is the ritual supposed to shake me like this?"
Of course—he already knew the answer.
As if a cursed human could have any luck at all. Haha. Eat that, Al thought smugly.
Ramu could only stare at him nervously.
"Ahaha… y-yes. That's… that's how the mechanism works," he replied awkwardly.
David, watching from a distance, felt something was off.
He knew how this ritual was supposed to function.
Ramu's movements were strange—clearly wrong—but David couldn't tell exactly why.
Hmmm… what's with that guy? Is this some kind of new method?
Even the others were confused.
They had seen this ritual performed many times before—by Ramu's father, and by Ramu himself.
But there had never been any shaking like this.
No one understood why Ramu was reacting this way.
Meanwhile, panic surged through Ramu.
On one hand, he had to release his grip to stop absorbing the bad luck. On the other, he had to get rid of the bad luck already inside him.
Luckily, a small idea flashed through his mind.
He tried to transfer the bad luck back into Al's body—even though that meant his own luck might get dragged along in the process.
But losing some luck was far better than living while drowning in overwhelming bad luck.
Al immediately sensed the change in the energy flow.
Hmm… I won't let you contaminate my body, he muttered inwardly.
And then—
BOOZZ—!!
The instant Ramu attempted to send the energy back, a violent chill ran down his spine.
His entire body stiffened.
The surroundings suddenly darkened, as if the world itself had been swallowed by shadows tinged with blood-red hues.
From Al's body, an enormous mass of pitch-black energy erupted—vast, oppressive, and suffocating.
Goosebumps exploded across Ramu's skin.
Cold sweat poured down his back.
He swallowed hard and slowly looked up.
And there it was.
A gigantic black silhouette, towering above him—
with glowing crimson eyes staring straight into his soul.
ROOOAAARRRR—!!!
The creature roared directly at him.
Ramu, terrified out of his wits, jumped backward with a scream.
"ARRRGHHHHH—!!"
He staggered back in panic, his body trembling violently, his face deathly pale.