Glenn panted on his knees, drenched in cold sweat. His trembling eyes were stuck on the robe and the pile of ashes in front of him, his mind racing as it struggled to come up with an explanation.

“Did—” He froze and looked at his hands in horror, “—Did I just kill someone?”

The grotesque image of the squirming, dying figure was imprinted in his mind. He stumbled back, falling into the mud with tears welling up in his eyes. Eyes that couldn't help but remain fixed on the remains of the person he just killed.

“Glenn, give me a break and breathe. This guy had a sword, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t going to use it to cut your hair,” Diamanes commented weakly, his voice somewhat ethereal in Glenn’s mind. Thunder exploded in the background as if the gods were angry at Glenn's actions. He looked at his shaking hands, before tightening them in a fist. He breathed in and out and slapped his face. Once his ideas were finally back in the right place, Glenn crouched next to the remains of the man he just killed accidentally, intending to at least figure out his identity. He picked up the robe and winced, a smell of sweat, squid, and blood coming off it. He patted the robe to try and find hidden pockets or any objects, but couldn’t find anything.

The longsword seemed to be a normal one too. There were no engravings, be it on the pommel or the blade. A plain longsword, with a total length of more than a meter, as far as he could tell. He finally glanced at the pile of ashes, his heart in a wrench, but he steeled himself. He shoved the longsword inside his dimensional pouch and looked at the ashes, wondering how he was supposed to look through them. He hesitated for a few seconds, but then a gust of wind decided to choose for him and pushed the ashes in his face. Glenn fell back and retched as he spat out the remains of his accidental victim.

A shining gleam caught his attention, revealed under the pile of ashes. It was a small, broken purple ring, giving off a dreaded and malevolent aura. He felt like he had already seen this ring before…The Auberge?

Wait.

The Thorn’s Church?

Glenn thought back to the longsword, the robe, and finally the purple ring. Every sign pointed to that damned sect. His guilt melted away like snow in the sun and he grinned widely.

“Well, well, well, isn’t that a strange coincidence…” He muttered as he clenched tightly the broken ring in his gloved hand. He was no fool, he knew that it wasn’t by chance that one of these cultist bastards found him in this alley. Those creeps were back on his trail, and they probably intended to make him pay for stealing the Seed of Darkness.

"Ignis." A small flame appeared on his finger, as he conjured a Fire Spark. He watched as the robe burned, leaving nothing but ashes behind. He then carefully stashed the purple ring in his dimensional pouch, making sure that no part of his skin would enter into contact with it. He had seen how the team from Onnea's Church behaved in front of these things, and he intended to be at least as careful as them.

Once he made sure that nothing was left, he stood up and headed back to the Cleaner’s Workshop, grinning wickedly. He believed he deserved a good, long night of Meditative rest, and he wasn’t going to get in this creepy street. He stopped as he felt a cold sensation in his neck. He passed his finger on it, discovering a bit of moisture. He looked up and winced.

It rained.

Glenn rushed back to the Workshop, thinking that he would deal with Diamanes' outburst and all that when he was in a hot, comfortable place. He ran back to his place, making a quick pit stop by the baths, which, after thinking for not so long about it, was probably Glenn's favorite facility. That and the Dining Hall.

He cleaned his clothes with a quick Cleaning Touch, one of the new spells he learned recently, and went back to his room. He collapsed on his bed and sighed heavily.

It was strange when he was thinking back on it. Until today, he had never really killed someone. Taking the life of another human being. The abomination made of the whole of Auberge's team didn't count, as it was closer to monsters than to humans. But this robed person, even if they were with the Thorns Church, probably had a family, a story to share, and he just took it whole.

“...And I don’t feel guilty whatsoever…” Glenn realized silently as he stared at the ceiling blankly.

"Well, stop whining like a bit**, and let's start cooking, alright?" Diamanes quickly stopped him in his rumination, frustrated, "There are a whole lot of things that need explanations and reflections, so you'll be guilt-tripping yourself a little later."

Glenn shook his head and dismissed his morbid thoughts. He sat up and took off his glove, staring at his left hand while thinking about all the strange events that happened during the day.

"First, you had your overeating crisis."

"Drowning crisis" corrected Diamanes.

"Whatever, then I spat out some kind of living clump of blood, which wasn't creepy at all."

"Imagine if your whole blood is like that, disgusting,"

"After that, you puked out your stomachs from the jumbled spells you ate in the Savant Room back at the probable cultist,"

"An unfortunate accident. Or is it? After all, he was armed, that whacko was probably going to attack you,"

"We'll never know. Finally, after receiving the "vomit", the robed guy transformed into some kind of Lovecraftian abomination for whom the price of existing was so high it just crumbled down in ashes after being born."

Glenn stopped to think for a second, before snapping his fingers.

"Oh, and let's not forget the head-splitting headache I had to endure since your crisis in the Savant Room.”

Diamanes groaned, “No, this one wasn’t my fault. Well, half of it wasn’t, for sure.”

Glenn raised a dubious eyebrow, “Then whose fault was the rest of it?”

Diamanes grinned widely, “The Seed of Darkness. I’m almost convinced that the lingering effects from peering into it were the cause of it, and I got rid of most of it for now…” He paused and clicked his tongue, “...Even though you still have one eye with that dirty green and that ridiculous white strand of hair.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Glenn played absent-mindedly with said strand, pondering. Diamanes’ explanations did make sense. This whole thing was so tiring.

“Sigh… Did we forget anything?” He asked sarcastically, exhausted.

"You did. You never asked what I did to the Rift." Diamanes replied in a matter-of-fact tone

"You just ate it, didn't you?" Glenn answered as if it was evident, deadpanned.

Diamanes paused, taken aback, "Well...yes, but don't you care what it means for you?"

“Come on, enlighten me.” Glenn groaned.

"Well, me eating a Rift reinforces your body temporarily. That’s why your eyesight got better."

Glenn scoffed, “Oh, great! That means that if I want a slight buff to see only a little better, I need to find a way to transport Rift in my pockets so I can power up whenever I need to.” He shook his head dejectedly, “Sorry, I don’t feel like moving tears in reality for now.”

Diamanes remained silent, speechless. He couldn’t even say anything back; Glenn was right after all. The latter fell back and sank in the comfortable mattress, before rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“...Why the hell did that guy transform into a monster before dying, though?” Glenn muttered, confused. Diamanes smacked his lips and smiled widely.

“I have a theory for that. Well, two.”

Glenn waited patiently, listening.

“The fault can be attributed to two things: first, my vomit. Secondly, that purple, broken ring,” Diamanes said with an interested tone, “Either the lingering side-effects from looking into the Seed of Darkness were contained in my vomit and somehow Corrupted that guy, but since it was an artificial Corruption, his body didn’t survive the shock and he died from combustion.”

“As for that purple ring, maybe it was the reason for the transformation, but since it was pushed by another source—my vomit—it failed. And he died. I don’t know, I’m trying to make some sense too.”

Glenn rubbed his chin as the jigsaws of the puzzle started to piece themselves together. The more he thought about it, the more it did make sense. There was also a similar ring in the remains of the Auberge’s abomination, only it hadn’t been destroyed. And the Thorn’s Church has a prison full of monsters that were once humans… His blood suddenly froze as he realized what that could mean.

“...Are they trying to create items to force artificial Corruption?” He muttered in awe. Diamanes didn’t comment on that one, also considering that option. If that was true…

Then the problem with the Thorn’s Church was much more important and threatening than they thought. Still, Glenn felt a bit better as he was able to put words on matters he couldn't understand before. Knowing what plagued him made Glenn fear it less. After all, now that he knew what the sources of his issues were, he would probably find a way to take care of these, right?

With a new peace of mind, Glenn took off his clothes as he put himself to bed, every morbid thought about him killing someone displaced in another part of his brain. He would deal with it later. Right now, he needed some sleep. He should have an easy time finding it, right? After all, it was raining. He always slept better when it was raining.

Glenn turned and turned in his bed, struggling to fall asleep. Each time he closed his eyes, he could see the robed figure squirming in pain as they morphed into some kind of cosmic horror. Finally, he had enough, and he stood out from his bed. He yawned and moved toward the window, noticing through it that the two moons were high in the sky. But something was wrong. Terribly so. The sky...seemed purple. The same purple that made his left hand. Glancing down the streets, he discovered a hazy fog of green, dirty color.

He rubbed his eyes, only to discover that he wasn't in his room anymore. He tried to cast a spell defensively but he couldn't muster the Mana. He was standing in a wheat field, green fog surrounding him, and a purple sky pushing down on him. His body was trembling uncontrollably, going from hot to cold, then cold to hot, and so on. Suddenly, his heart started thumping out of his chest, as he turned back, seeing a strange figure approaching him, a longsword in his hand.

Glenn held his hands in front of him in a pitiful defensive manner, but the figure didn't seem to care as it got closer and closer to him, his sword stretched out. Vines and thorns were crawling under his feet, and he emanated a malevolent aura. Powerless to resist, Glenn could only watch in agonized terror as the robed figure unveiled its face — a grotesque visage composed of writhing, twisting black tendrils resembling worms. At last, the figure impaled Glenn's chest, driving the blade to its hilt while murmuring incomprehensible, nightmarish incantations. Amidst the torment, one word pierced through the chaos: "Paradox."

Gasping for breath, Glenn snapped awake, drenched in sweat and trembling. He clutched his chest, half-expecting to find the blade's cruel mark, but it was nothing more than a haunting nightmare.

Or so he thought.

His gaze shifted to his chest, and dread overcame him as he discovered a new tattoo etched where his heart resided.

"Oh, not another one," he groaned in exasperation, his eyes fixated on the intricate design — a circle of thorns, very reminiscent of the...no.

"Diamanes, how did I end up with this shit?"

"Come on, let me sleep a bit more..." A tired voice came out of his left hand.

"DIAMANES!"

His left hand jerked itself, as the mouth nestled in its palm opened in exaggeration.

"What is so important you dare wake me up during my sleep?"

"THIS!"

Glenn pointed a finger at his chest, showing the thorns' circle.

Diamanes let out an exasperated sigh, as his palm mouth yawned wide. "That's a curse. Good luck with that."

Glenn widened his eyes as he grabbed his left hand with his right.

"What–what do you mean by a curse? Like the silence curse that stopped me from talking? What are the effects of this one?"

Diamanes mumbled something unintelligible, prompting Glenn to shake his left hand with renewed urgency.

"ALRIGHT, alright," Diamanes grumbled in surrender. "You're Marked, which means they can find you – anywhere and anytime."

The young man paled, quickly putting his clothes on.

"Damn it, of course, I would be cursed with a damned tracker. Because magical trackers just exist!"

He rubbed the fatigue off his face, as he prepared to get out of his room when Diamanes stopped him.

"Relax," Diamanes advised a rare note of reassurance in his voice. "You're safer here. This workshop is fortified, protected by Fixers and Cleaners, and fortified with magical wards. They won't find you easily."

Indeed, the Cleaner's Workshop was as good as a fortress. And since he had a tracker, running away was useless.

"Diamanes, can I use you to take it off?"

His left hand smacked its lips thoughtfully, “...Sure, but you won’t be able to use it. Don’t want to use yourself as bait, huh?”

Glenn chewed on his cheeks and shook his head negatively in silence.

Diamanes snorted, “Yeah, just put me over this thing.” A minute later, the Curse was gone, leaving a relieved Glenn behind. No way in hell would he go back to this damned hellhole that was the Thorn’s Church prison. And if he had to fight them, he’d rather do it later once he was strong enough to shoulder that choice, instead of now. Because he didn’t consider himself strong at all right now.

“...Shit, I really should stop trying to sleep normally, if it’s to fall into these shitty nightmares every time,” He muttered in horror, “I hope they won’t go after me again…” His expression hardened and he clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles whitening. Diamanes watched silently, the corner of his lips curving upwards as he watched Glenn’s wicked grin.

“...Next time, I’ll be the one hunting them,” Glenn swore hatefully.

He paused and scoffed at himself, “But for now, let’s just Meditate and slowly get stronger. I’m impatient for this day to be over.”