Chapter 315 – Isha (15)

Translator: Atlas / Editor: Regan

Morga’s face turned fierce.

“Arrogant boy!”

But the boy didn’t flinch. His golden eyes glittered.

“Please help me,” he said bluntly. “After my coming of age ceremony, no one will defeat me.”

“……”

Morga’s lips pressed together thoughtfully. He suddenly had a strange suspicion, and though it seemed impossible, he grabbed the boy by the wrist.

The boy didn’t resist as Morga gently pricked the tip of his finger with a dagger, and brought his hand over the boiling pot. Red drops of blood welled from the tip of his finger and dripped into the liquid.

Morga’s face paled as he identified the pattern within.

“An ancient one…”

Morga stared at the boy as if he were a desert mirage.

“How is that…possible…”

He was so shocked, his legs wobbled under him, and he had to stagger over to a chair to sit down. Suddenly, he had an incredible headache.

Morga pressed both temples with his fingers.

There is an ancient species of Kurkan, but it’s only a legend. How could that power have been inherited by a half-breed…?

If the King of Kurkan knew about it, he would have acted immediately. The King could not afford a half-breed of that ancient species to live, much less reach adulthood.

Of course, even if the boy was an ancient one, there was no way Morga could be sure that he actually could overthrow the King. Morga swiped a hand over his face. His palm was damp. He had broken out into a cold sweat without realizing it.

“It’s a reckless gamble,” he said slowly.

“Isn’t it worth a try?” The boy was not trying to persuade him. He was just telling the truth. “You know better than anyone else what it means, to be an ancient one.”

The boy was sure that Morga would agree. And he was right.

All this time, Morga had been holding onto hope. He hoped there would be a new King, who would not stain the desert with the blood of his own people. He hoped for a King that would unite all Kurkans as one.

“…I will help you,” Morga said, after a long silence. And he immediately warned, “it will be painful. Even more so because you are an ancient one.”

Normally, the coming-of-age ceremony in Kurkan was done with celebration, to mark the beginning of a new stage of life for the young Kurkan. It concluded with a ritual, a simple sorcery that would make the young Kurkan grow rapidly to adulthood over a year.

But this boy had missed the proper time for his ceremony. That long-suppressed growth would have to be pushed forward immediately. And worse, because he was an ancient one, the imbalance of that power would cause a severe negative reaction. It would be beyond anything so simple as pain.

“In the worst case scenario, you could die. There is also the possibility that you might not die, but will suffer so much that you beg me to kill you.”

Having uttered these warnings, Morga paused, his lips working, and then he shut his mouth. This boy was not frightened. There was only a wry smile, as if none of this was particularly new to him. Morga had the impression that he was accustomed to pain.

But it would not have been easy, surviving to his age. He must have come to the brink of death more than once before he arrived at Morga’s tent.

Morga made his decision.

“Clean your body in the oasis,” he said, waving a hand at the boy. “In the meantime, I will prepare.”

After the boy was gone, he began his preparations for the spell. Under normal circumstances, a simple spell would suffice, but the delay made things much more complicated.

And there was the fact that the boy was an ancient one. Immune to spells.