'What… what is this now?'
Unwan slowly, reluctantly opened his eyes. At first, he didn't understand. And who possibly could? Before him floated a violet grimoire. A violet grimoire.
Unwan had never seen such a color on a grimoire before, had never even heard of one. His breath caught as disbelief spread through him.
'W… what is this?'
Despite its color, the grimoire's form was not much different from an ordinary book. Its edges were framed with neat, straight-lined patterns, decorative, but restrained. It was rare only because of its hue.
But...
The center was different. Unwan had never seen anything like it. Not in reality, not even in imagination. A heptagon was engraved into the cover, and at its upper-left corner, a simple five-pointed star was completely filled with bright pigment. The other corners also held stars, but theirs were hollow, only the outlines remained.
As Unwan stood there, stunned, a voice rang out.
— Wow… you got yourself a grimoire? Interesting. How did that happen? And even more interesting...
A light, yet malicious laugh echoed through the alley.
— ...would you mind handing it over to me?
Unwan immediately recognized the voice. Dorgon. He had seen the strange light descend and returned for it. Now, he wanted the prize.
— What if I say no?
Unwan grasped the edge of the grimoire.
The moment his hand touched it, the deep violet glow slowly dimmed. Its levitation ceased, settling naturally into his grasp. He had expected discomfort, resistance. But instead, he felt something oddly pleasant.
As if he had found something he had lost long ago.
— Why do you even want it, Dorgon. Your father isn't like Fred's. Even if you take it, you won't be able to use it. And I'm dying anyway, once I do, the grimoire will disappear. There's no reason for you to keep it.
Dorgon continued approaching regardless.
— You're right. Very logical, But there's something I value more than logic. You are weak. You were weak. And now, a book of success and power lies in your hands. I enjoy mocking the weak, but I hate seeing them rise.
Unwan had a reply ready. He even wanted to laugh. But the pain in his face wouldn't allow it.
— What about babie…
— Shut up. Just give it to me and die. That's the least painful... no, the least agonizing option for you.
Unwan couldn't say he wasn't afraid. No matter how powerful the grimoire might be, he didn't know how to use it. Right now, it was almost useless.
And yet, he didn't want to give it up.
This was his only chance. Perhaps the only one he would ever receive. He was going to die anyway. So why did it matter?
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Unwan drew a shallow breath — light, yet painful, as every inch of his body screamed. Then he spoke.
— I don't want to let this chance slip away. This wound will kill me anyway. So what's wrong with testing my power?
— At least you'll add a few minutes to your life.
Dorgon shifted into a lunging stance once more.
Unwan's heart raced.
'Think. Think. Think. How do Owners usually cast spells? They call out the spell's name… Right, but I don't know any spells. Then, hand motion.'
Unwan swiftly pulled his arm back, then thrust it forward toward Dorgon, extending it instinctively.
He expected blades, elemental magic — anything that could be summoned from behind him to strike his enemy. But nothing appeared. Worse – the direction was slightly off.
And yet..
Dorgon was suddenly hurled backward.
He flew violently, crashing straight into the stone wall. The impact was brutal, several bones shattered, perhaps dozens. Unable to withstand the pain, Dorgon dropped the sharp object from his hand.
'W… what just happened?'
Nothing had touched him. With a single motion, Unwan had sent him flying. For a brief moment, Unwan thought it might be a Grimoire of wind.
But he dismissed the idea. Grimoires of wind were gray. Elemental grimoires bore five distinct colors. This one was neither.
'What kind of power is this? How did it throw Dorgon… all the way into the wall?'
As Dorgon sat against the ground, coughing blood and bracing himself with one arm, a thought crossed Unwan's mind.
'What if I lift him? What if I send you upward instead?'
Unwan raised his hand toward Dorgon. Seeing this, panic flooded Dorgon's face.
— No, no! Please forgive me! I was wrong! I apologize, have mercy!
Such wonderful words. Words that carried both fear and hatred of power. Unwan might have believed them, if his death weren't certain, and if he didn't understand Dorgon's psychology so well.
— "Really?" Unwan said coldly. "Do you think I don't know your twisted nature? That I can't see the disgust in your eyes when you look at me?.."
Unwan's stomach nearly shut down. Blood welled up in his throat. He spat it out and continued.
— Do you think I don't know you're waiting for me to die?
— No! Never! That's not true! Please, please forgive me!
Tears appeared on Dorgon's face. Fake ones. Unwan knew this better than anyone.
For the first time, he looked at someone physically stronger than himself with pure disgust.
— An honest, bitter truth would've been better than this pathetic lie.
Unwan lifted his hand higher. He waited for Dorgon to rise into the air. However, nothing happened. Instead, Dorgon seemed to feel relieved. Eyes tightly shut, he slowly opened them and looked around.
Unwan would have bet the first thought in Dorgon's mind was: Did the spell fail?
But this only confirmed Unwan's hypothesis. He had done this deliberately to test his power. For his hypothesis to be correct, the trick had to fail.
And it did.
'To understand the nature of power is to understand both its danger and its weakness.'
Unwan extended his hand toward Dorgon once more. Then, slowly, gently, he lowered it.