Chapter 95

This is a story from long, long ago.

When Moran was not yet an old man, but in the prime of his youth. Moran at 16, with his silver, delicate hair and sharp, well-defined features, was a fine young man. He was a noble's son attending Eleonwar Academy.

He was serious about his studies, always topping the class. He would always read alone, exuding an air that made it hard for others to approach him casually. He was rigid in his thinking, often looked down on others, and was quick to anger. Yet, because he was good-looking, he was popular with women. This, in turn, made him the most hated by the other boys. As a result, he had no friends to speak of.

One day, during a break, he stared at a certain place without reading his beloved book. His silver hair fluttered as his sharp gaze was directed at a single woman. Young Moran, at 16, experienced his first love. Though he looked stern, his heart was pounding.

The woman, who had been gazed at, was finally made aware of Moran's existence by a friend who told her about his intense gaze. Given his intimidating look, she immediately ran away. The passionate gaze from Moran, which would have made other women jump for joy, had no effect on her.

The woman's name was Harp Heran. As her name suggested, she had a beautiful voice and short, neatly cut red hair that left a strong impression. She always wore a smile, seemed to enjoy life, and her large eyes sparkled with interest in everything. She found it difficult to mix with groups and preferred to act freely on her own. In other words, she was also a unique individual. It's unclear whether this was what attracted him, but Moran undoubtedly fell in love with her.

His feelings grew day by day, but they never reached her. His own feet refused to take action, and she showed no signs of turning around. Moran spent his days in vain, and the distance between them never closed.

As time passed, the relationships around Harp became clearer. Despite appearing to have no particularly close friends, she went to a certain place every other day.

Moran, aware of the guilt in his actions, followed her. When the heart is set on fire, acting rashly is a common ailment of any era.

The place she visited was an underground warehouse filled with old books. It was a dusty place where books rarely read in the library were stored. They were books in fields that even the avid reader Moran rarely touched.

"Here she is! Harp is here! Hurry and sit down!"

In the warehouse, a man was lighting a candle and reading a book. Harp had been meeting this man. Moran knew this person as well. He was a man from the same grade and class. It was impossible not to know him.

His name was Petal, and he always added "nari!" to the end of his sentences, another unique individual. He had a slender build, a small stature, droopy eyes, a large nose, and a large mouth. It was hard to call him a handsome man.

Petal and Harp in a romantic relationship!? Moran felt as if the ground beneath his feet had crumbled. After all, this man Petal was a super weirdo, even by the standards of the oddball Moran.

When did this happen!?

Moran cursed his lack of action. If he had acted sooner, she might have been his. He regretted it, and it turned into anger.

He barged in on the two of them, who were chatting amicably, in a fit of rage.

The shock of their sudden intrusion was immense. The famous student Moran of the academy had suddenly burst into the underground library, a place where no one ever came. It was understandable that they were taken aback.

The three of them came to know each other's faces from this incident. From there, it didn't take long for these three outcasts to become friends. Most of all, knowing that Petal and Harp were not in a romantic relationship, Moran began to view Petal more favorably.

"So, what? What do you two do in this underground warehouse all the time?"

On a certain day, when Moran asked this question, Harp and Petal exchanged glances and hesitated to answer. Their hesitation only irritated Moran further. He was intensely jealous of the secrets they shared that he didn't know.

Understanding Moran's short temper, the two decided to share their secret with him as a sign of their friendship.

"Harp Heran. As my family name suggests, my family's estate is in the Heran territory."

"Oh, the border nobles. I've heard of them."

"Border nobles, how rude. Well, it's true, but it's a wonderful place. It's rich in nature, and above all, the flowers are beautiful. Playing in a field of flowers is a luxury you can't experience in the capital, right?"

"Hmph. That's not what I call luxury. Luxury is about jewels and precious metals."

"You don't get it."

"Neither of you understand, nari! True luxury is found in books, nari!"

Each of the three had their own idea of luxury.

Harp tried to move on from the topic, but Moran continued to gaze at her with intense eyes. He was interested in her more than in the content of the conversation. Next to him, Petal continued to read, seemingly oblivious to Moran's feelings.

"Let's leave that discussion for another time. For now, let me tell you about the research Petal and I are doing. It all started with a family legend passed down in the Heran family."

"A legend? Hmph, in this day and age?"

Moran slightly mocked her. He had a habit of looking down on others, and as a logical thinker, he disliked old legends and myths. They were vague and unclear, which he found annoying.

However, the insensitive Harp didn't mind Moran's unpleasant attitude.

"Yes, an old legend. It was something my grandmother, who passed away, used to tell me when I was a child."

"What kind of legend?"

Harp took a deep breath. It was an important story, and she didn't want to start it casually. Moran was a dear friend, and she wanted to tell him. It was the right thing to do.

"The Heran territory, hundreds of years ago, was known as a cursed land. It was a place where not only people couldn't live, but even plants couldn't grow. It was a land where no one who entered could return safely. It was part of the kingdom of Kudan, but no noble wanted it..."

Moran listened seriously. Harp's face was so serious.

She, who usually had a whimsical air about her, was this serious. The thought of mocking her had vanished.

"The beginning of it all was when a certain noble was ordered to move to this cursed land."

He was exiled from the capital due to a power struggle at the royal palace. The land given to him, which was more of a form of harassment, was the current Heran territory. This man, Harp's ancestor and also the ancestor of the Kurri, was the first lord of the Heran territory, a man named Heran.

♦ This is a story from even hundreds of years before that. ◆

The family name of the past was lost. From now on, he would live in this new land as just an individual, Heran.

Heran, a man with bright red hair, was slender but strong and robust, never falling ill. What characterized him most was his infectious smile. He could talk to anyone without reservation and loved to laugh. Despite being from a noble family, he would visit common taverns and mingle with the people. If someone was in trouble, he would help them regardless of their status. He was loved by many, but his awareness of his noble blood was thin.

Heran had no interest in power or money. His involvement in the power struggle was purely a matter of bad luck. Unable to fight back, he accepted everything and was sent to the cursed land for eternity. However, he did not consider being sent to the cursed land a misfortune. He had always loved working with the earth. Though he had been born into a noble family and had no choice but to live in the capital due to his talent, he was now finally able to live his own life, and he was even happy about it.

Alone in a land without people or plants, he lived each day with vitality, despite the treatment akin to exile. He spent his nights in a natural cave and planted seeds and saplings in the land as soon as it was light. He worked tirelessly, forgetting to rest. Days of barely having enough to eat continued. His body became gaunt, and his once handsome face turned dark from the sun, losing all traces of his former self. He showed no interest in such things and continued to fight against the cursed land alone.

The plants did not grow...

That was the conclusion he reached after a year. After all that effort, they should have grown. It was then that he finally realized that this land was truly cursed. A vast terror overcame him, but his heart and resolve did not waver. It was just a matter of trying something new.

...Five years passed.

There was no progress. The barren land remained barren. The world might change, but this land remained unchanged. However, there was a change around Heran. He was no longer alone in this land. There were now thirty people in total. Each had their own reasons for ending up here, but Heran did not pry into their backgrounds. He welcomed all who came and shared his meager food with them, living together.

Everyone felt grateful to him and admired his character. Some had other places to go, but others decided to stay and share his vision. The vision was to transform this cursed land into a fertile one where people could live.

One day, Heran gathered everyone in the land. He had something important to say.

"Everyone, I've realized something I've overlooked for a long time. The flow of magic in this land is abnormal. The natural flow of magic in the world is distorted here. It's not just distorted; it's as if it has been deliberately tampered with. It's truly a cursed land."

Some thought that knowing this would only deepen their despair.

"From now on, I will investigate every corner of this cursed land. I will explore even the remote areas that we have avoided until now. And I will uncover the full extent of this distorted flow of magic."

"How will that help?" someone asked.

"Of course, I will restore it to its normal state. That will free this land from the curse."

"But how?"

"I have been blessed with a talent for magic. I promise to devise a spell to break the curse. My talent must have been given to me for this purpose... I can even feel that way now."

"Restoring the natural flow of magic is no small feat. I don't think it will come without a price."

Someone with knowledge of magic pointed out the concerning part.

"I don't think it will come without a price. But it is my dream—"

There was no need to say more. The decision was made to abandon their current living area and explore the depths of the cursed land.

Everyone agreed and volunteered to join. Heran's dream had become everyone's dream. They were all drawn to his dazzling smile. His red hair would serve as a guide for everyone. No matter how far they went, they would never lose sight of that red hair...

The journey was harsher than expected. It was a journey with no end in sight, and there was no guarantee of success. Yet, no one fled, and no one complained about this reckless journey.

However, the harsh environment began to claim their comrades, one by one, starting with those who were physically weak.

After three years, the full extent of the strange flow of magic in Heran's land became clear, and they pinpointed the source of the magic.

It was later known as the Cursed Swamp of Heran. Only thirteen people made it to this place. More than half had been lost.

"Long ago, when another country existed in this land of Kudan, a wise man eloped and met his end here. There is an old legend that he sang a curse as he died, and it seems that this was the truth."

Someone knowledgeable about history said. The swamp proved the truth of the legend. The spiral of magic overflowing from the bottom of the swamp was corrupting the land. The wise man, who lay at the bottom, continued to sing the curse even in death, keeping the land cursed. The power and resentment were so great that everyone was terrified. Yet, this land was also a source of hope. If they could heal it, the cursed land might return to its original state.

The area near the spiral was strangely blessed with nature compared to other places. It was like the eye of a storm; the place where the curse seemed strongest was the least affected by it.

The thirteen survivors made this place their base and began to break the curse. Their resolve was rekindled here.

After ten years, the spell was finally completed.

Children were born, and more comrades joined, bringing the total to over fifty. Heran was about to enter the final battle against the curse.

"Everyone, listen. We will put an end to the curse of this land. The spell is finally complete."

Everyone already knew this, but it was still a significant moment. For a long time, everyone had been thinking about this, and through extensive research, they had all become experts in magic.

Everyone knew the details, but they all wore dark expressions. Finally, they were about to defeat the curse they had longed to overcome...

"Everyone, you also know that the curse cannot be completely defeated. My power is not enough. I must offer my life. However, it will last for about three hundred years. This spell must be passed down to our descendants three hundred years from now. It's a burden to them, but there is no other way. The curse will return in three hundred years. However, at that time, a descendant of mine with the same magical lineage will be born. At that time, the spiral of the curse will be reversed. The life of the descendant will also be lost, but the curse will finally be completely defeated."

No one was thinking about the descendants of Heran three hundred years from now. Everyone was more concerned about the loss of Heran, who had been the symbol of hope for all. Everyone understood that his life had to be sacrificed to defeat the curse, even if only temporarily. Understanding it didn't make the emotional pain any easier. Heran was their hope, and they had all followed him this far.

Even if the land returned to peace, it would be meaningless without him.

However, the decision had already been made. Heran's choice to sacrifice his life would bring much happiness, and he had no intention of backing down. No one else could do it; only his talent and effort had led to the ultimate spell.

The day before the ritual, Heran went to the swamp alone early in the morning.

It was supposed to be performed the next day in front of everyone, but he found the farewell too painful. Without telling anyone, he went to the swamp, his distinctive red hair swaying. He quietly gazed at the swamp.

Everyone followed, drawn by the sight of his red hair. They always felt energized when they saw it. However, Heran's life was lost that day. In the early morning, while everyone was still asleep, he cast the ultimate spell.

The spiral of the curse stopped, and then Heran's spiral of magic began to reverse the curse. When the reversal was complete, the dryness of the land was healed, and flowers bloomed around the swamp. A month of heavy rain followed, and flowers, plants, and rivers appeared. In less than a month after Heran's disappearance, the cursed land transformed into a land of abundance.

The surviving comrades named the land after Heran, and his son became the second lord of the territory. Heran's created spell was recorded in five magic books, and they made sure to pass down the knowledge to future generations to defeat the curse when it returned in three hundred years.

"Three hundred years from now, a descendant of Heran will completely eliminate the spiral of the curse. This person will possess the magical properties of the spiral and be blessed