Siblings Reincarnate as Enemies

Chapter 3 – In which Vermillian remembers he is actually a genius

A curse.

Not a simple curse at that.

It had to be planted during Vern’s childhood and stay dormant until he started to grow up and his mana pools increased.

At first it would appear to be simply a difficulty in learning magic and vulnerability to cold, but as the time passed it would completely block his magic advancement and get him bedridden.

Vern would die around the time he reached adulthood from what would look like simple sickness.

Vern was seventeen, a month away from turning eighteen.

And he was coughing a lot of blood.

Looking around, Vermillian could see small magical devices and the edges of his bed littered with magical inscriptions.

They were what was keeping him alive right now and were so excellent that even the pain was light enough that Vermillian wasn’t too bothered by it.

But they couldn’t get rid of the problem.

He lifted his hand a bit.

In the light of dawn, he could make out his turned-blue fingernails. He also noticed his vision turning black around the edges.

He had to quickly find a solution.

Thankfully, Vern was a smart kid.

From the moment he noticed there was something weird going on with his body, he started to keep a diary where he noted down all the symptoms.

Following his new memories, Vermillian found the diary under his pillow and started to quickly flip through it.

Everything was meticulously recorded.

The fever frequencies, the locations of skin discoloration, the notes about changes in the sound of coughing, the color of the blood he coughed, the pain scale…

He read it all until he got to the last few pages, which only have a few paragraphs as Vern was too tired to write.

Vermillian closed his eyes and analyzed it one after one.

This type of curse was very close to a sickness. It wasn’t tied to an object or a body part. It was like corruption that had to get into a body once and then slowly spread from one cell to another. Trying to destroy it by normal means would mean setting Vern's entire body on fire.

It’s obviously not an option.

He has to live at least until he finds his siblings.

Then what is an option?

The best solution to curses were priests and other spiritualists.

But there were no priests in Rubrun whose relationship with Purplus was extremely tense.

And even if they were, that type of curse could probably be only completely cleared by someone of his younger brother Am’s caliber.

Then what should he do if there is no Am around?

‘Can I reproduce Am’s rituals with magic?’

If it was a powerful curse, Vermillian would never think about it, but the only problematic thing about this curse was actually its nature.

He quickly recalled the process of all kinds of cleansing rituals he saw Am do.

‘In my current state, any dances and singing are impossible… the rituals which call on the authority of the deity are out of question too…’

In a moment he eliminated most of them and ended up with a short list of rituals. Then he analyzed them step by step and drew a conclusion.

‘That may actually work… but I’ll need needles.’

He looked around and spotted a few magic devices sprouting just the type of needles he would need. The only problem was that he would have to disassemble them to get what he wanted.

Vermillian had no qualms about destroying someone's property when it comes to saving lives, so he didn’t hesitate.

He carefully crawled out of bed and, holding on to anything he could reach with his hand, he began his journey to get needles.

About 30 minutes later…

He was back in his bed, with needles and with a ruined room. Overall, he was satisfied, because he managed not to get hurt in the meantime.

Now was a time for the ‘ritual but its magic’.

He laid down and then carefully stabbed the needles into all of his main mana pools, scattered across his entire body.

Then, fighting against the sudden waves of cold and heat as his mana mixed with outside air, he started to chant in a low voice.

His mana started to circulate under his command, mixing with the air and then returning to him.

It was a ritual which used raw forces of nature to cleanse the evil inside of the body, but now Vermillian was using it to cleanse his mana from the curse that rampaged through his entire body.

From the points pierced by needles a black smoke was rising.

It was working.

He continued chanting to clear his mind and not get distracted by the pain.

After what probably was 15 minutes.

Vermillian stopped and opened his eyes. Then he drew a deep, shaky breath.

He could feel his mana pools and mana streams washing away the last remnants of the curse by themselves.

He succeeded.

Vermillian stood up and walked up to a window, his body still weak but at least not dying. He drew a curtain and let his face be bathed in the warm sunlight.

Tok.

A door suddenly opened. And a young man appeared in the doorframe.

He looked at the broken magic devices scattered across the floor, the furnitures toppled over, the blood soaked bed (thanks to Vermillian coughing in rage and then stabbing himself with needles) and then to Vermillian, standing in front of window in dusky sunlight and completely blood soaked robe and needles he still didn’t take out.

The man stared at the scene for a few seconds and then after some consideration he asked:

“Young Master, have you perhaps turned into a vengeful ghost?”

“No. I’m alive.”

When Vermillian answers with a hoarse voice, the man was visibly relieved.

“Ah, that good, it would be truly terrifying if the Young Master would turn into a ghost, right? Wouldn’t it mean that ghosts truly do exist? Yes, that would be a very terrifying discovery.”

Vermillian decided to not inform his guest that Am once came to him and said that he needed to clean his laboratory better, because he had to deal with three ghosts this week already.

“But can you stand, Young Master? And what happened here?”

The man asked as he crossed the doorframe and then closed the door.

“I removed a curse.”

“...Yes? How?”

Vermillian considered for a moment how to explain it and then gave up:

“I guess I was a genius in my previous life.”