So, with no hope of help, he goes on. With nothing to occupy his time, he studies and searches for something that might save him, not knowing what to do. One day, while wandering the seventh floor, his thoughts raging on the pain he feels...and the pain he wants to inflict, something happens. He’s angry, so angry, and he tries to push it into the quiet ice of his heart, but he can’t. It’s too much. And suddenly, there’s a door, and he no longer cares enough to think that it may be a trap. He steps into the room and finds...odd things. It’s a room for training. Along one wall, books of spells of all sorts but mainly those that hurt others, dark spells. Along the opposite wall, instructional books on how to use those articles along the third wall. Weapons, swords and axes, anything he could dream of. He takes a weapon from the wall, a small sword or a very long knife, he is not sure, but he takes it. The shelves shift and bring forward those books that he needs. For the first time in a long time, a small smile slips onto his features, a real smile. He hurts, and even if he tries to ignore it, he wants to hurt others for it. He tells himself he won’t use what he learns. He lies.