He grit his teeth. The pain was nearly making Maxwell black out. He buried his face in his hands.

  “I need to make it home, I need to make it home,” he muttered to himself. The cart shook as it drove over a dip in the road.

  “Easy now,” commanded the stranger to the neighing horses. Maxwell had somehow managed to find himself a ride by these strangers. Inside the cart was a single barrel and a couple stacked boxes with fabric and rope keeping them in place. The sound of sloshing inside the barrel was probably wine. They seemed to be merchants of sort. The space in the cart seemed far too large for the little wares they had. woman next to the man was probably his wife.

  The woman wore a simple dress. Its color was a faded brown and it had been repaired in a few places but it was in good condition nevertheless. It was ironic in comparison to Maxwell’s own clothes. His noble clothes were muddied and ripped. His clothes were made from expensive silks and had vibrant shades of blue and yet was stained by the dirt of the road.

  He felt something dab on his face. He looked up. The woman from before was kneeling in front of him holding a handkerchief. She wiped away his tears with a handkerchief and some of the blood on his face

  “You poor thing,” she muttered. “We’ll take care of you ‘till you make it home.”

  He raised his hand protesting. “Wait, I’m fine..”

  “Nonsense,” she said firmly. “You’re in so much pain.”

  Thank you.” he groaned in between painful grunts. While his agonising state remained the same it did in a sense provide a sense of relief for him, if but for a second.

  She put a hand to his forehead. “My god, you’re really burning up!” she exclaimed. She looked at him with sadness in her eyes. “I’m sorry there’s nothing I can do.”

  She squinted looking closer at his face. She recoiled, placing her hand in front of her mouth.

  “George!” she called to the man not taking her eyes off Maxwell. “His eye George, its gone! Must have been ripped right out”

  “That’s rough,” said the man after a pause. “I’ve heard bandits are getting more violent around these parts. I’ve heard rumours of eyes being used for magical equipment, noble eyes especially would go for a lot”

  The couple would probably have freaked out more if they had known Maxwell had golden eyes but luckily for him they were in the dark. Maxwell’s remaining eyelid was so swollen it was barely open and leaking blood it was practically impossible to tell his eye-color.

  He doubled over once more in pain. There was nothing he could do to ease it except grit his teeth. He’d lost count of how many times he had wished for death. His body shivered. He wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or the cold. The mud was caked in his hair along with blood. He felt as if all the skin on his body had been peeled off. Whatever surface he laid against was as if he was touching a burning hot iron.

  Maybe I should have asked them to take me to a doctor beforehand? He wondered. Damn, I don't know, this pain is too much!

  How am I still alive in the first place? The words of Julius echoed in his head.

  “The corruption christening has a 100% death rate without exception.”

  He wasn’t sure what exactly a corruption christening was but wasn’t he already supposed to be dead by now? Was this something to do with what the god said when he was being reincarnated? It would explain how he wasn’t dead yet even though he might as well be.

  The journey back home felt forever. The seconds were painfully long. The closer they got the slower time seemed to move. He had nearly passed out multiple times but he held on. “I need to make it back, I need to make it back,” he whispered to himself. Once he made it back everything would be at peace. His betrayal, his pain, it would all be resolved. It was in that eternal agony that the cart eventually stopped.

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  “I believe this is it!” shouted the man over the downpour.

  The man helped Maxwell to the door through the pouring rain. The mansion looked so different at night. It seemed strangely foreign… He raised a hand to the door. His knuckles rapped loudly three times against it. They were met with silence. He knocked once more, this time more forcefully.

  The door barged open revealing Marco.

  “What seems to be the-” Marco’s eyes landed on Maxwell. The light from inside was nearly blinding. Its warm yellow glow was warm on his skin. I’m finally home, he thought to himself tearing up.

  “Maxwell, is that you?” he said, shocked. “What happened to you?”

  “I need to see Sir Howitzer,” said Maxwell in a weak voice.

  “What’s going on,” said a voice. SIr Howitzer had appeared wearing nothing more than a loose shirt and pants. Lady Gamiere was behind him wearing silk bathrobes.

  “Ignard, is that you?” said Lady Gamiere, stepping slightly forward.”We need to call the a priest- no a medic!”

  She rushed forward embracing him. “Let go of him! “She said to the man. “What did you do to my son!”

  “I found him on the road to my ladyship. Please we are but humble farmers,” he said hurriedly. “I caused no harm to him! “He spoke as fast as he could to explain the situation. He realised that showing up like this with Vanderbilt's son half-dead was one that could easily be misunderstood.

  “I found him on the road and brought him to safety at once,” he explained. He went on to briefly summarise the events that had happend.

  “Mother!” exclaimed Maxwell bawling. “So many terrible things have happened. I think I was betrayed and I’m in so much pain.” he couldn’t stop the turbulent flow of words from gushing from his mouth.

  “It’s ok,” she said, reassuring him.

  “Wait!” commanded Sir Howitzer. He had a serious look in his eyes. “Step away from him” he said to lady Gamiere.

  He walked cautiously up to Maxwell. Maxwell eyed Sir Howitzer. If he wasn’t in so much pain he would have felt fear swell in his heart. SIr Howitzer crinkled his nose before swiftly grabbing the collar of Maxwell’s shirt. In one motion he ripped his shirt off exposing his chest.

  Maxwell's eyes trembled in shock. “Father why would you… “

  “Your Insignia!” he cried out, he was so distraught his voice cracked. “Your divine gift.,” he mourned. Lady Gamiere took a step away from Maxwell away from the doorway. Both their eyes were downcast.

  “Father…Mother…” said Maxwell cautiously. He had no idea what was running through the man’s mind. The man simply stood still. It was impossible for Maxwell to read him.

  “That is no son of mine.”

  The rain jutted down noisily. They both looked straight into Maxwell’s eyes.

  “That is no son of mine!” they shouted. SIr Howitzers’ eyes glowed a deep sapphire. While the rain and wind was coming from outside it was as if thunder was raging from within the doors.

  Maxwell’s knees buckled from under him. “Whoa there, don’t fall now,” said the man supporting him.

  “Please, this can’t be true, you can’t do this to me as well,” said Maxwell between tears. “What have I done to deserve this!” he wept. He had hoped with all his heart that this had been some sort of mistake or that everything would return to normal if he could explain things to his parents but all those delusional thoughts were forced to crash down.

  Sir Howitzer turned to the farmer. “I don’t know who you think this street urchin is but he is not my son, begone at once.”

  “What do you mean, I travelled all the way out here!” the man protested.

  “Marco close the door,” commanded Sir Howitzer in a dismissive tone.

  “But SIr Howitzer, he’s Ignard your so-”

  “Not one more word out of you!” he shouted. Bolts of purple energy wrapped around Marco’s body. His body moved awkwardly. He gritted his teeth and moved no more. A drop of blood fell from his nose. He can’t disobey the orders from the head of the Vanderbilts, they’re forced to through the magical pacts.

  “Why do you still resist,” said Sir Howitzer.

  Marco’s eyes met Maxwell. Desperation was in his eyes. “I can’t do it, I’m sorry Ma-” Marco was interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

  Sir Howitzer's mouth twisted in annoyance, “Tsk.” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

  He stared at Maxwell with disgust. “Magic is everything to a Noble.”

  “Mother!” called out Maxwell. He craned his neck desperately to her but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, her head turned firmly to the side. “Mom!” he cried, tears streaming. But she wouldn’t answer. A boom echoed through the hall slamming the doors shut with such force it rattled the ground.