"..."
Lawrence's fingers curled into a fist against his knee, his gaze sharp. Ace, uncharacteristically silent, watched Taron with eerie stillness, his red eyes flickering with something unreadable.
Arlon remained composed, but his mind was already running through a dozen possibilities.
Dimitri's voice cut through the thick air like a blade. "The Cursed Stone is unlike mana stones. While mana stones harness the natural flow of magic, this… this does something else entirely."
Arlon's fingers curled slightly around the fabric, feeling the pulse beneath, cold and distant. "And what exactly does it do?"
Taron gripped the cloth-wrapped stone tighter. "It doesn't just amplify magic. It twists it. It destroys. Entire lands, entire cities—wiped out in an instant." His voice dropped to a whisper, barely above the carriage's steady creak. "It's not magic. It's chaos."
Arlon's stomach clenched, the weight of the revelation pressing down like unseen chains. He swallowed, but the tightness in his throat refused to ease.
Arlon's breath came slow and measured, but his mind raced, piecing together every fragment of information. The moment his fingers had first brushed against the stone, he had felt something—a pulse. A warning.
And the vision.
A sky drenched in crimson. The earth splitting apart like fragile glass. Screams, not distant but close, clawing at the edges of his mind. The sensation of weightlessness, as if reality itself had come undone.
His heartbeat quickened.
Taron broke the silence, his voice hoarse. "If someone were to use it recklessly… an entire city could be gone in an instant."
A low, humorless chuckle escaped Lawrence, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "So, just to clarify…" He leaned forward slightly, his voice dripping with dry skepticism. "We've been casually sitting in a carriage with something that could wipe out an entire kingdom?"
Taron winced. "...Yes?"
"..."
"People have been searching for it," Taron continued, his voice hoarse. "Even my boss."
Of course they have.
Power like this? Arlon wasn't surprised. He was only surprised that Taron had been carrying something this dangerous without realizing it.
"You're afraid of it."
Taron flinched, his mask of composure slipping. "Anyone with sense should be."
Arlon glanced at Lawrence, but the swordsman only watched in silence, his expression carefully guarded. Even Ace remained still, his tail flicking just once—a rare sign of unease.
A brief silence hung between them before Arlon's voice broke it, firm and unwavering. "Then I need to know everything about it."
Before Taron could respond, Dimitri's calm voice sliced through the tension. "Because it grants power, my lord. And power like this is always dangerous."
Arlon's gaze snapped to him.
Dimitri's expression was unreadable, but there was something in his tone—something that suggested he knew far more than he was letting on.
"Power that could shift the balance of this world."
Silence fell over them like a shroud.
A slow, creeping sense of unease curled in Arlon's chest.
Dimitri knew.
And that meant this wasn't just an artifact. This was something worth killing for.
Dimitri met Arlon's gaze, his words measured but carrying an unmistakable warning. "It's best discussed in private, my lord."
The unspoken message was clear—this wasn't something to be spoken of in the open, not with so many ears around.
Arlon exhaled slowly, considering for a moment before giving a slight nod. "Alright."
Though the conversation moved forward, the weight of Dimitri's words remained, settling over them like an unshaken presence.
In near silence, they packed up. Their movements were deliberate, each lost in thought.The horses were hitched. The carriage prepared.
Clack— Clack—
As they set off once more, the wheels rolling steadily beneath them, Arlon sat with the cloth-wrapped stone in his lap.
It felt heavier than before.
He ran a thumb over the fabric, feeling the cold pulse beneath.
The longer he held it, the more it felt wrong—like it resisted him, like it didn't belong in his hands.
And yet, he couldn't let go.
Dimitri's voice broke the silence. "The Cursed Stone is not like Mana Stones," he said, as steady as ever. "Mana Stones draw from nature. The Cursed Stone… it's something else entirely."
Taron swallowed hard. "There are five known types—Red, Green, Yellow, Blue, and Violet. Each one unstable. Each one... unpredictable."
Arlon's grip tightened slightly. "And this one? The red one?"
Dimitri's gaze darkened."In its raw form, a Red Cursed Stone is a bomb."
The words settled like an unlit fuse, waiting for a single spark.
And in that moment, Arlon realized something chilling.
He was holding something capable of wiping out entire cities.
The air inside the carriage grew thick with tension, the revelation pressing down on them.
Arlon's mind churned, memories of the stone's icy touch resurfacing—visions of smoldering ruins, the ground splitting like a wounded beast, and the eerie sensation of weightlessness, as though he was adrift in a nightmare.
Now, it made sense.
No wonder Taron had been so terrified.
Arlon took a slow breath, voice steady despite the storm in his mind. "If it's this dangerous... why does anyone keep it?"
Taron hesitated, his fingers twitching. "Because... the artifacts made from them are priceless."
Dimitri's voice was sharper this time, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Not just for their value. When refined, they become relics—true weapons, unlike any other."
Arlon's fingers curled tighter around the cloth. A relic. A weapon born from chaos itself.
"So it's not just the stone's raw power," Arlon murmured, voice low. "It's about creating something deadlier."
Dimitri's gaze was steady, his voice like iron. "Relics don't just enhance strength or magic. They twist reality. Shatter boundaries. A single relic can change the outcome of a war."
A heavy silence settled over them, the weight of those words crushing.
Taron exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "That's why they're so dangerous. Entire wars have ignited over these stones. Kingdoms have crumbled. The knowledge to refine them should've been lost to time... but it wasn't."
Arlon's brows drew together. "Should've?"
Taron hesitated, tension tightening his posture.
Finally, he exhaled and spoke, his voice strained. "There are still people who know how to craft relics. My boss... he's one of them."
Arlon went still, the weight of those words settling heavily in his mind.
The puzzle pieces snapped into place, forming an image far darker than before.
Taron's boss wasn't just some collector.
He was a craftsman of destruction.
Dimitri's voice was cold, his words measured. "If your boss holds this knowledge, he's not alone. Others must possess it too."
The reality hit them like a hammer—this wasn't merely about hoarding power; it was something far more serious.
This was about reshaping the future—about who controlled the ability to bend reality itself.
Arlon's thoughts drifted back to the vision.
The sky—painted in shades of crimson. The fractured earth. The cries that turned his name into a curse.
It wasn't just a warning.
It was a premonition of the chaos to come.
Arlon leaned back against the carriage wall, arms crossed, his fingers absently tapping against the cloth-wrapped Red Cursed Stone in his lap. He had no doubt the artifact was dangerous—but exactly how dangerous? That was what he needed to know.
"If these Cursed Stones have different effects, how do they actually work?" Arlon asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.
Taron, still visibly rattled from their earlier conversation, took a steadying breath. "There are five known types," he explained. "Each one has a unique ability… and some are more dangerous than others."
He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "But they don't just activate at will. Each one has a specific condition. If you don't trigger it properly, it's nothing more than a fancy rock."
Arlon arched an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you activate them?"
Taron hesitated before starting, counting on his fingers as he explained.
"Red Cursed Stone—Explosive. To activate it, the owner must ask a question. If the person lies… it explodes."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Arlon's gaze sharpened, his voice flat. "Are you telling me this thing is a lethal lie detector?"
Taron nodded hesitantly. "Yes, but, uh… a very deadly one. If someone lies while holding it—"
BOOM.
The imaginary explosion echoed in their minds, and the reactions were immediate.
Lawrence, who had been casually leaning against the carriage wall, stiffened, arms uncrossing as he sat up straighter. "...So it rewards honesty with survival?"
Ace, perched on Arlon's shoulder, flicked his tail, his red eyes narrowing. "Great. An interrogation tool with no second chances." He scoffed. "Imagine some idiot asking the wrong question at the wrong time."
Dimitri, ever composed, merely adjusted his gloves, his expression unreadable. "A dangerous method for seeking truth," he remarked calmly, though the slight frown on his face suggested concern. "It makes one wonder how many people have tested its limits… and failed."
Arlon exhaled through his nose, gripping the stone a little tighter, as if expecting it to explode just from being near it. "And you didn't think to mention this sooner?"
Taron chuckled nervously. "Well… it only explodes if you lie!"
Lawrence pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wonderful. So if someone accidentally says the wrong thing—"
"Boom. Instant regret."Ace, sprawled across Arlon's lap, flicked his tail lazily.