The night air was still, but inside the manor, a storm raged.
A sudden jolt shook Kael's body.
His chest arched upward, his lips parting as a violent stream of dark blood burst from his mouth, splattering his chin, throat, and the pristine sheets beneath him.
"Young master!" Robert bolted to his feet, heart lurching in panic.
Kael's face twisted—not blank like before, not vacant—but in pain. Real pain. His fingers trembled weakly, and a thin, broken cry rasped from his throat.
Robert turned to Jaesper, fury and fear crashing together. "What are you doing to him?! He's hurting!"
Jaesper didn't even glance up. He knelt at Kael's side, surrounded by swirling glyphs and glowing vials. His voice remained flat, clinical. "His mana core is broken. This is the first step. If I stop now, we will lose him."
"Broken?" Robert echoed, breath catching.
"Yes," Jaesper confirmed, his eyes glinting behind his lenses. "Fractured—like glass cracked from the inside. The mana isn't leaking anymore… It's pouring out of him."
Kael coughed again, blood staining the edge of the bed. He writhed, weak but conscious of the pain. Robert clenched the bloodied cloth tighter in his hand, wiping Kael's mouth with trembling fingers.
He hated this.
He hated watching him suffer and doing nothing. "How much longer?"
"As long as it takes," Jaesper replied grimly. "I'm trying to repair the internal channels. They've collapsed. The core is damaged at its root. If I don't rebuild it layer by layer with alchemic resonance, it'll rupture again—and next time, even I won't be able to stop it."
Robert looked down at Kael. His face was soaked in sweat, his breath shallow, uneven. Every sound he made—every twitch, every cough—tore at Robert's resolve.
The night stretched endlessly. Robert didn't sleep, didn't eat. He remained at Kael's side, whispering soothing words and wiping blood from his lips as Jaesper worked in relentless silence.
And then… it was over.
By dawn, Kael was still.
His chest no longer rose in fits, but in steady rhythm. No more blood. No more cries. The dark hue faded from his lips.
Robert fell to his knees beside the bed, clutching Kael's limp hand. A faint hum of energy met him—mana. It was weak, fragile, but it was there.
"…He's stable," Robert whispered, eyes glassy. "It's not leaking anymore."
A tear slid down his cheek.
Jaesper leaned back, wiping his brow and adjusting his glasses. His face was pale with exhaustion. "The core is patched. But the outer layer is still damaged. If we stop here, everything we did tonight will unravel. I need to prepare another alchemical solution—something to reinforce the shell."
Robert didn't hesitate. "Then do it."
"I will," Jaesper nodded. "But for now, we rest."
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That afternoon
A ray of light broke through the curtains. It fell gently across Kael's face.
And for the first time in what felt like forever—his eyes opened.
Robert, seated by his side, dropped the book in his hands. "Young master…?"
Kael didn't move, but his gaze shifted—slowly, weakly—to meet Robert's.
Robert's heart leapt. "You're awake…"
There were no words from him, just the faint flicker of life behind weary eyes.
Jaesper emerged from the next room, a stack of notes in his hands. "I see he's responsive. That's good. We'll continue treatment tonight. I still need to complete the stabilizer potion and recalibrate the mana balance."
He left just as quickly, muttering alchemical formulas under his breath.
Robert didn't mind. He was too busy smiling.
Later, he returned with warm broth. "Just a little, alright?" he said softly.
Kael's mouth opened. The spoon trembled in Robert's hand as he fed him.
Some of it spilled, but Kael swallowed. Slowly. Awkwardly. But it was enough.
"You can do it, young master," Robert whispered, brushing Kael's hair back. "Bit by bit."
That night, Robert sat by the candlelight, writing a letter to Elric.
He opened his eyes today. He responded.
He ate. He's still very weak, but… he's coming back.
We're not alone anymore. I will keep him safe.
He sealed it with a soft smile on his lips.
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Days later
Kael's condition held steady. His mana flow remained intact. No more bleeding. No more leaking. His body still couldn't move, but his eyes followed every motion—Robert, the servants, even Jaesper.
And then—one evening as Robert leaned close to adjust the blanket—
A faint touch.
Kael's hand brushed against Robert's cheek. Cold. Fragile. But undeniably alive.
Robert froze. The sensation lingered.
"…You're here," he whispered, pressing his palm over Kael's. "You're really here."
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Later that evening, in Jaesper's study
Jaesper examined the mana charts, eyes narrowed. "The leak is controlled for now," he muttered aloud, knowing Robert would ask. "But it could return. No one can predict how long this will last."
Robert folded his arms. "Was it the fall? From the tower?"
Jaesper tapped his pen against a jar of herbs. "I doubt it. Injuries alone don't rupture a core like this. The last time I saw anything similar was when a mage overloaded their body with raw mana—used too much at once and burst their own circuits."
He paused, frowning.
"But this… this is different. I've gone through all known patterns. Nothing fits. There's only one plausible cause."
Robert's brow furrowed. "What is it?"
Jaesper sighed. "The Demon King's curse. It's the only thing powerful enough to damage a hero's mana core… from the inside out."
Robert's eyes fell on Kael, still asleep. Still breathing.
And he clenched his fists. "Then we'll break that curse. No matter what it takes."