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Long ago, in a region bordering the eastern continent, there resided thousands of miles of open land. Somewhere at the epicenter of this urban territory exists a village plagued with a terrible disease. The villagers were plagued with paralyzed limbs. Some limped, others crawled, some failed to even move their arms. These poor villagers sought refuge by the river. They lived mostly in huts made of wood and adobe brick. Emerging from one of these assorted structures, a young adult makes his way to the town's epicenter. Marley-a student at the village's local medical school-is currently meeting with his mentor. The only currently existing school within the village at the time was a pharmacy. This building not only provided medicine for its people but also taught them how to manufacture remedies for common illnesses. The unknown plague of paralysis however was still being researched in hopes for a cure. Marley made his way to the school and sat outside its entrance. Limping from the building was a man in a wool coat lined with straw and bits of native wood. Recognizing his pupil he exclaimed, "Ah, Marley you have arrived early! Bright minds foretell great futures my dear boy." Marley, impatient with the formalities, dives right into the subject of his medical education. "Dear professor!" said he, "I do not wish to joke around this fine morning for I have come to complete my final assignment and graduate the class!" Speaking sternly but without hostility, "My boy I fear that your incompetence will be the end of you. If moving up in your schooling is all you ask for, then I will simply give you a task not of glory or difficulty, but simply so create a remedy to help our poor village cope with the "rigid" illness." spoke the professor. "You are a foolish old man," Marley proclaimed boldly, "you cannot even restore your numb left leg, yet you ask of me such a task? Your skill does not exceed that of my own!" Now infuriated at his pupil, "If words of pride you so proudly proclaim, then cure the disease by the end of this day! The morning is still young my dear boy, but you haven't more than twelve hours left! Why toil here and bug a poor old man and his paralyzed leg? If you fail to produce a cure, I will fail you, and you will never learn at my institute, AGAIN! NOW, be off with you!" hollered the Professor as he stormed back into the building. Now Marley's patience had undone him this day, for he could never match the wisdom of his superior. It was at this moment that he remembered a legend told by his father, "My son, you are lucky. To not be born with this disease that has struck me so. My arms my legs, none of them move. But alas, there may be hope for not only myself, but the village as well. I have heard of an embodiment of fire, that rests upon the mountaintop to the south. They say he can grant knowledge to whomever seeks him! Your mother has gone to great lengths preparing for the trip. Do not worry my son, for once she returns, we shall become a family again!" rasped his Father. After these words were spoken, several tragic events occurred. On the journey, Marley's mother had died in an accident while scaling the mountain, and shortly afterwards his Father's lungs froze and he died of suffocation. Upon reminiscing these events, Marley had come to the decision that he would scale the mountain and find the knowledge his mother had failed to retrieve so long ago. After preparing supplies, Marley took a quick glance at his village, and began to scale the mountain. Marley neither ate nor rested. He continued to climb,as if he were a walking corpse. He did not felt neither pain nor emotion, and continued to climb for many hours. After a brutal journey, Marley had finally reached the top. Suddenly, as if time and space had no existence, a flame erupted from the mountain top. Marley had know idea why, but he did not catch flame. The cindering embers appeared to pass right through him, as if he himself were part of its incinerating wrath. In all the commotion, Marley could hear a voice, "Mortal!" it spoke in a ghastly voice like no other apparition could dare equal, "you have the courage to climb this treacherous mountain, therefore you have the courage to accept knowledge from within fire itself." Marley, though hesitantly spoke, "It is I, spirit of flames, that has called you forth. I wish to know of an ancient antidote that will cleanse the illness of my wary village." "You have asked, and now you shall receive!" responded the infernal embodiment, "but be warned, to remove something from oneself, requires the loss of something far greater if you cannot understand its properties." And with that, the spirals of heat became more vigorous, and Marley could now feel its warmth, getting hotter, ready to consume him. In the blink of an eye, Marley was no longer standing on the mountain top, but instead sitting before the Professor. "Well get on with it!" screamed the Professor, "Go and get a cure! If you are so smart it shouldn't be a problem!" Marley looked down at his palms. His hand were not pale like on the mountain, but renewed, as if his journey had never taken place. In his head however, was something different. "Professor!" shouted Marley, "I have the cure!" Just like that, Marley began to hack at the dirt with his hands. It was as if he was being possessed. He continued to lash at the ground, digging a hole that became deeper as time passed. At the end of this small pit was a root. With his soiled hand, Marley grasped the root and presented it to the Professor. The Professor, confused in almost every way up to this point, exclaimed "What is this foolery Marley? That is but a root! I don't know how you managed to locate it or why but I know for a fact that you just cant cure the plague with a simple piece of foliage dug up from the earth!" Marley, without thought nor consent. crushed the root in his hand, and upon releasing his palm, began to chant in a manner unknown to the professor. Instead of crushed roots, there lay a bottle in his hand. Amazed at this phenomenon, the professor snatched the bottle from Marley's hand. Upon taking the vial the Professor began to shake, "What on earth," shouted the professor once more, "My leg! I... I can move my leg! The professor, overcome with joy, began to dance, swinging his newly recovered leg from side to side. All in an instant, he collapsed, and died. Marley had now realized the forewarning the spirit had told him. One can come up with a solution, but the formula will always be incomplete if you are unable to comprehend the problem.