But someone called out the name of his mother, the woman he hated the most for having given birth to him and giving her this black magic power to him. Why wasn't this black magic power passed down to Gwen, why did it have to be her.
It became an old wound that was scratched again, annoying and sad. Elle must always remember how pathetic she was, unwanted by her father, abandoned by her mother and humiliated by the terrible power of black magic.
And by continuing to hold onto his grudge against Lucas, he could at least like his current strength.
"Damn it, it feels like coming back again and I hate this feeling!!" He said while holding his aching chest.
Pendragon watched his black magician leave, he knew that the young woman was the same as him. The old wounds and the desire for revenge were so great, but his eyes then turned to the glass bottle he was holding.
It looked and felt so dark and gloomy, as if ready to swallow it too.
