Chained together by the slightest link of thought or emotion, a flood of memories from random times and of random people rushed into my mind like a demonic chorus. Each time something like that had happened, I’d smothered my complaints, convincing myself that I was just unlucky.
I’d brought up these experiences to others, usually over a few drinks. Usually, they’d responded with incredulity that people like that really existed, concluding that I was either exaggerating or had fabricated a story. That had made me realize that they had never encountered anyone truly unhinged. Although it didn’t feel good to have my experiences dismissed so easily—and I couldn’t say definitively that their comments weren’t made in derision—I had been happy for them that they hadn’t had these outrageous experiences.
As sorrow, rage, and desperate longing raged like a torrent, the whirlwind of cursed energy became thick enough to block out daylight—a pitch-black wall. My bracelets were protecting me from it, but it still felt like I was locked in a tiny space that somehow shut out sounds from the outside. Just as I felt blindfolded and earmuffed, the myriad of memories all merged into one—the pain I’d always felt, as long as I could remember, every time I laid down to sleep. It was the thought that burned my mind in the darkness of my bedroom.
What’s the point in going on?
No matter how many times I had imagined my future, it never came out bright. I’d lived my life out of obligation, just to paint a picture of a respectable existence. Navigating society had been a painful ordeal, and I couldn’t think of a possible reward for it—just the thought of dying alone, having done nothing but inconvenience other people.
Then, another thought had come to me. Why shouldn’t I give them exactly what they expect of me? I’d had the katana my father left me, along with the strength and skill to use it. I’d had little more than nothing to lose—certainly not enough to hold me back. Besides, no matter how I was going to be treated afterwards, I thought I could live with the consequences so long as they were the result of my own choices and actions. It would make more sense than being treated like this without reason.
A powerful urge to unleash my emotions rocked through me. All I had to do was let go. All I needed was one little push—
“That’s it,” I said, stopping myself out loud.
The negative emotions I had let pile up had nearly shifted to being murderous and self-destructive. Now the cursed energy was much closer to me than before.
Sensing my limit, I raised the rake and moved. The steady rhythm of the sound and sensation of lightly dragging the rake across the ground made me quell my reckless heart.
It was just like martial arts training... This feeling had been what kept me studying martial arts in Japan. It had been what convinced me that it wasn’t a waste of time.
Reminding myself not to lose control completely, I moved to wrap up the ritual. Without stopping my movement, I poured more magical energy into the rake. It was all an extension of my arm—the rake was my bone and my magical energy my flesh.
Like calls to like. Curse calls to cursed energy... I told myself that over and over again.
If I had asked the gods to erase the memories of my previous life and had been reborn as a normal child in this world, my life would have been vastly different. My accomplishments in this world were only possible because of my memories of Earth, and as long as I had those memories, I was never going to be a normal child here.
To me, there was no separating my previous life from the negative emotions I had experienced through it. In a sense, the echoes of the past were a kind of curse—the curse of Takebayashi Ryoma—that afflicted me in this life. Memories of my previous life could fade with age, but I was never going to forget them completely.
“If you’re going to haunt me all my life anyway... Be of some use!” I shouted. My imagination reinforced by following the steps of the ritual, I moved magical energy from my rake to the magic gem. The dark layer of cursed energy broke off and followed the flow of magical energy, peeling back the wall to reveal the sunlight.
My mood was as sour as it got, except that I was starting to see the blue sky, all of my friends, and my rake that now resembled an arm formed of cursed energy. Not only was the cursed energy viscerally dense, but it writhed along the path of magical energy I had provided like blood vessels underneath skin. It was like bugs were crawling under the skin of the cursed-energy arm—a pretty disturbing sight.
If I had to describe this curse and the arm before me, I’d call it... “Manifested Hand.” The words slipped out of me, and it all made sense. As my understanding of the curse clicked in my mind, it became much more stable. From this point on, the black hand continued to draw in cursed energy without ever letting any of it leak out. It was so effective that I could easily imagine cleansing the entire site with this curse.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be happening today. Not only did the curse burn through my magical energy, it was mentally exhausting me. I stopped drawing out cursed energy from the ground, and vacuumed up the quantity that had formed the arm, making sure that all of it went into the magic gem. A breath of relief sounded from the onlookers, almost too loudly.
Then, Rosenberg quietly approached. “Well done. How do you feel?”
“Good. The curse functioned as expected. If I were to make an improvement, I would work on making my tools more durable.” I eyed the rake. Most of its teeth had crumbled away, and even the handle looked like it could snap with the slightest bit of force. The ordinary bamboo I’d used to make the rake couldn’t withstand all the cursed energy that comprised the Manifested Hand. My wish bracelets were intact, albeit with much less magical energy in them than they’d started with. The only part of my equipment left completely unscathed was the magic gem. “The rake is one thing, but I would like to improve the strength and effectiveness of the bracelets to make this a safer process. I think I saw the best results I could today...”
“Good. Your dedication is admirable as always, but you should rest for now. Analysis of your progress can wait. Take this medicine please.” Rosenberg produced a vial of gray liquid from his pocket. He uncorked it and handed it to me, a mixture of refreshing fruit and something medicinal tickling my nose.
“What is it?”
“A preventative measure. This training method is particularly taxing, mentally speaking. Temporary depression is almost expected, and many warlocks experience visual or auditory hallucinations. If one pushes too far, those symptoms can become prolonged. Mostly, this induces sleep—a critical requirement for maintaining proper physical and mental health. The most effective way to avoid the negative side effects of this training is to invite sleep and reset the mind and body before your thoughts drift to darker territories.” He added that the second best thing I could do was eat a nutritious meal...which reminded me of a typical treatment for depression on Earth. Maybe good sleep and good food were always the building blocks of mental health.
“Oh?”
“Do you have any other questions?” Rosenberg asked.
“No, I just noticed something through my Tamer magic... It looks like the slimes I’d tasked with processing the clay we produced from the well-digging the other day are evolving. I already have a guess as to what kind of slime they’ll evolve into and what skills they’ll have. I’ll check in on them later. I do understand the drug’s effect and necessity. If I’m going to be knocked out when I drink it, shouldn’t we return to the cottage before I take it, though?”
“Just drink it, Ryoma. It’s not hard to carry one kid back there,” Welanna offered.
I took her up on that and downed the contents of the vial. It didn’t taste too good, but there was enough juice in it to make it go down easily. I made sure to finish the last drop before returning the vial to Rosenberg. Sebas gave me his water bottle to wash it down. After a few sips, drowsiness came over me quickly and fiercely.
“Thank you for the water... And for your help...” I managed to get out before I succumbed to sleep.