At the moment when the sun cast its final orange rays upon the tall walls of the trial grounds, the sound of children's footsteps،heavy and weary،rose from within the dust. One by one, they exited the field. Their clothes were dusty, their faces tired, and their eyes filled with the anxiety of an uncertain future.
Just then, a voice was heard in the distance. A familiar, warm, and pleasant voice،the voice of Father Maldreus, the head of the orphanage, who had always been like a lantern in the darkness for the children. He approached them with slow yet firm steps, accompanied by a few of the orphanage's guards. His long gray robe danced in the evening breeze. His face was calm and friendly, holding a faint smile, but a closer look at his eyes revealed something deeper،something silent, wounded, and heavy.
"My children... welcome back," he said gently, though there was a strange power behind his voice.
"I hope you faced the trial with conscience and effort."
He paused, as if searching for the right words. Then he offered a reassuring smile and continued,
"Whatever the result, what matters most is your effort. Trials come and go... but your striving spirit remains forever."
A short silence filled the space between them. A breeze passed through the trees, lifting dust from the ground into the air. Father Maldreus coughed,brief but deep. His chest shook with each cough. Suddenly, he raised his right hand to cover his mouth, and Arthur cast a quick glance at it.
A fleeting but meaningful moment.
There were traces of dried blood on Father's fingers.
Arthur looked closer. Blood? Why? But Father kept smiling as warmly as ever and said,
"Tonight, we've prepared a special dinner for you. Rest a bit first… then come and eat with us."
The children quietly made their way back to the orphanage. Arthur, with heavy steps, climbed the stairs and entered his simple room. The warm glow of sunset streamed through the window, painting orange lines across the floor. He sat on the bed, the fatigue weighing down on his shoulders, yet his mind was restless and crowded with thoughts.
"Will I pass?"
"Is the power I have… enough?"
"Or am I destined for a normal, unremarkable life without honor?"
Elsewhere, Julius, Sophia, and the others wrestled with the same thoughts in the silence of their rooms. Anxiety, like a shadow, settled on their hearts.
Night slowly fell. The small church bell rang, signaling dinner time. The kind sisters guided the children gently and warmly toward the dining hall.
The dining hall was brighter than ever. Tall candles along the walls gave the space a pleasant warmth. The tables were covered with colorful cloths, and unlike their usual meals, tonight's dinner featured dishes of meat and aromatic spices. There was meat soup, hot vegetable stew, fresh bread, and even sweet, fruity drinks served in clay cups.
Arthur looked at the variety of food with surprise. It seemed Father Maldreus had done everything he could to make this night special.
Before eating, everyone held hands and murmured a quiet prayer. Then the soft clinking of spoons and forks began.
Midway through dinner, Father stood. His voice was soft but filled with emotion:
"My children, this trial was just a test. It doesn't matter who gets chosen… what matters is that each of you has your own unique potential. If you weren't chosen today, know that there are more tomorrows ahead. Never stop trying. Never stop believing in yourselves."
Some smiled. Others wept. Some remained silent. But all listened.
Yet Arthur's mind remained captive to the image of blood on Father's hands.
When dinner ended, he returned to his room. The silent, dark night peeked in through the windows. He lay on the bed, but his thoughts,like relentless waves—rushed in. Thoughts of the future, of power, of failure… and of Father.
His eyes stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, harsh coughing could be heard in the distance.
It took a few seconds before Arthur realized: the sound came from Father's room.
His heart sank.
He got up and walked quietly and carefully through the night toward Father's room. The silence was deep, yet heavy. He reached the door and pressed his ear against it.
He heard heavy, labored breaths and deeper coughs than before. His heartbeat quickened. He placed his hand on the door and gently pushed it open.
The dim light of a candle lit the room. Father Maldreus lay on the bed, his eyes closed and face pale.
"Father?!" Arthur rushed toward him and reached out his hands.
Father was still breathing, but his hands were cold, and his breathing shallow and uneven.
"Father! What's happening?" Arthur cried out, but there was no answer.
Fear spread in his chest like an unextinguished flame.
He dashed out and ran to the sisters' quarters, the weight of dread growing heavier in his heart.
"Sisters!"
He burst into the room where the sisters sat under the candlelight, speaking quietly.
"Sisters! Help! Father is in a terrible condition!"
Sister Maria rose immediately, eyes full of worry.
"Come! Quickly!"
They all rushed out and hurried to Father's room. Within seconds, they had gathered around his bed, trying to stabilize him—but it was no use.
Arthur, hands trembling, approached the sisters. His eyes were full of questions, his heart heavier than ever.
Maria, seeing Arthur's overwhelming concern, came close and gently said:
"Arthur, you should leave the room now. We'll tell you how Father is later."
But Arthur couldn't leave. He had to know what had caused this. He insisted:
"No! I want to stay. I need to know what's happening to him."
Sister Maria looked into his eyes and realized that forcing him out would only backfire. Since he already knew the seriousness of the situation, it was best he knew the truth. With a soft and sorrowful tone, she said:
"Father suffers from a rare disease."
Arthur's voice trembled:
"What? What disease?"
Maria sighed, as if releasing a heavy burden from her chest.
After a pause, she continued:
"It's called the Blooddeath.
This disease causes the mana inside the body to put extreme pressure on internal organs. Over time, it can cause severe internal damage. Unfortunately, there is no cure. Even holy magic cannot help, because it speeds up the progression.
You see, the positive flow of healing mana reacts with the corrupted mana inside the body, making it grow even faster.
There are very few diseases like this,ones that corrupt the body's mana and nullify the effects of healing magic.
And sadly, Father has one of them."
Arthur whispered: "Blooddeath…?"
Then he asked, eyes full of tears:
"Is there really no cure?"
Maria lowered her gaze. Sorrow reflected in her eyes.
"There isn't, Arthur. Not even the Archmages can do anything. Father has had this for a long time… but in the last year, it's grown worse. Only a few people survive it."
A heavy weight settled in Arthur's chest. He placed a trembling hand over his heart and tears welled up in his eyes.
"Father…"
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He knelt beside Father, placing his head on his hands.
Father Maldreus opened his eyes with the last of his strength. A faint smile on his lips.
"Little Arthur… don't worry. Remember what I told you. Even if I'm no longer in this world… my spirit will always be with you."
Arthur whimpered:
"Father… I don't want to lose you."
Father's trembling hand reached for Arthur's head, gently stroking it.
"You are strong… stay strong. For yourself. For others. And always remember: a strong person protects himself. But a stronger one… protects others."
Arthur sat in endless tears beside Father's bed. The cruel and painful world around him faded into darkness.
He felt something inside him break, but at the same time, his father's words, with that faint smile, gave him the strength to endure the hard days to come.
Father Maldreus's faint smile faded, and his eyes closed.
His breathing, once shallow and broken, had stopped.
Arthur felt the ground beneath him still. His entire body grew heavy, as if the weight of the world had fallen upon his shoulders.
"Father? Father!" His voice was cracked and trembling. He still held his father's hand—but there was no response.
The sisters realized that Father had passed away, and a heavy burden of sorrow settled on their shoulders. Some began crying alongside Arthur, while others remained in shock.
Upon hearing the news, everything in the orphanage stopped for a moment. Time itself seemed to forget how to breathe.
One by one, the sisters entered the room with distressed faces. Some stared blankly at the wall with tear-filled eyes, others collapsed into each other's arms and wept silently. Those who could no longer stand sat down, clutching their chests, trembling. Some tried to remain strong, but their lips quivered, and their sobs rose from the depths of their souls.
For Arthur, each second stretched into an eternity. As he gazed at his father's still face, he felt as though his heart had stopped beating.
Never in his life had he felt such a profound sense of loneliness. It was as if his father hadn't just passed away , a piece of Arthur's soul had gone with him.
He stared at Father Malderius's lifeless body , the man who had been the one constant in his chaotic world. His father's face was peaceful and still, as if in a deep sleep, but the absence of warmth in his gaze and smile shattered something inside Arthur.
His heart ached. It felt like a thread of his very being had snapped , a thread that connected him to the world.
He suddenly collapsed to his knees. His sobs came without control. His tears dripped onto his father's cold, lifeless hands, and his cries broke the heavy silence of the room. The other sisters stood in stunned silence, as if Arthur's pain had stolen their voices.
Maria, the eldest and most compassionate sister, stepped forward quietly. Her eyes were red, though she tried to maintain her composure. She placed her hand gently on Arthur's shoulder. The warmth of her hand contrasted sharply with the chill from his father's body, but even that touch couldn't lighten the weight of Arthur's sorrow.
Through broken sobs, Arthur whispered:
"Father… why did you leave me? I can't do this without you…"
Sister Maria, hiding her own tears, softly replied:
"Father isn't in pain anymore, Arthur. He's at peace now. But we're still here… we must carry on the path he showed us."
But her words passed by Arthur like a breeze without effect. The only thing he could see was his father's smiling face in his memory , a smile that had always given him hope when the world felt dark and he felt alone. He remembered how, on long and cold nights, Father would sit by his side, tell stories, and say with his warm, reassuring voice:
"You matter, Arthur… One day you'll grow up, and the world will hear your voice…"
Now that voice was gone.
The night stretched longer than ever. Arthur remained by his father's bedside. Candles glowed in the room, their shadows dancing on the walls. Some sisters whispered prayers in the corners, others watched silently. But Arthur drifted in another world — filled with echoes of the past, memories that now felt more like nightmares than comfort.
Hours into the night, he slowly stood up. His legs were weak, but his heart was heavy with grief. He walked to the window. The night air was cold, and the breeze through the window stung his skin, but what stirred in his chest was even colder and sharper.
He whispered:
"How am I supposed to live without you, Father?"
The sisters stood silently. None could find words to ease Arthur's pain. They were all in deep shock. The death of Father Malderius had left a profound wound in everyone. Though they had known about his condition, the finality of his absence made the pain unbearable. For some, there was a small comfort knowing he was no longer suffering, that he had finally found peace.
Behind him, the soft sound of Sister Maria's footsteps approached, like a gentle breeze.
"Arthur, you need to rest… you're so tired."
Arthur, without turning around, said:
"I can't…"
Maria remained quiet for a moment, then said softly:
"Your father was always proud of you. He's still with you , in your heart… in your memories… in the path you choose to walk."
Arthur lowered his head. He looked at his hands — small, trembling hands, on the verge of growing stronger.
He whispered:
"I promise… I'll be strong. But I'll miss him… so much…"
All night, Arthur stayed beside his father's bed. None of the sisters dared leave him. Some stood quietly in corners, watching the Father's body, while others continued praying in silence.
Morning came with a grey light. A cold mist enveloped the churchyard. The bell of the church tolled slowly, mournfully. The sisters wore black robes and silently carried Father's body outside. The white cloth covering him fluttered gently in the morning breeze. The peaceful smile on his face in death remained etched in everyone's memory.
In the courtyard, the children gathered around the grave. Lily, a little girl with short hair and teary eyes, sobbed in the arms of one of the sisters. Marcus, a quiet boy who rarely spoke, knelt down and clutched a handful of earth. The sound of sobs mixed with Sister Maria's whispered prayers and the tolling bell, forming a mournful yet sacred symphony.
Arthur stood a little apart from the others , motionless, his gaze empty. He was silent, but inside him raged a storm. There were no more tears. Only a weight in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
Sister Maria said, her voice trembling:
"Father Malderius was a light in our darkness… Now it's our turn to keep that light alive… in our hearts, in our actions, in the path we walk."
Each handful of dirt that was cast onto the coffin seemed to bury a part of their memories. A part of the past of children whose only hope had been Father Malderius.
And Arthur…
He stood like a tree in a storm. No longer a child. His eyes held no fear now , only determination and a fierce silence. He slowly clenched his hands into fists. In his heart, without moving his lips, he whispered:
"I promise… I'll go on… for you… for all the children who needed you… for the light you lit inside me…"
And from that moment, a new path began; a difficult one, but a path filled with light. Arthur was no longer just an orphaned boy… he was the bearer of a flame that had to shine in the darkness ahead.