The carriage rattled and creaked as it rolled through the cobblestone streets outside of Alalia, the capital city of the Papal State.

The carriage rounded a bend, and suddenly, Alalia’s huge city walls showed themselves. Lily took a deep breath.

It’s been three years since I’ve been home, she thought.

Lily, seated inside the carriage, peered out through the small window. The city was unusually quiet in the early morning, almost reminding her of the monastery—just filthier.

As they approached the massive gates, a pair of [Templars] moved to intercept the carriage. Clad in full plate armor, their presence was formidable, but they paled in comparison to the carriage driver – Marcus. The giant [Monk], easily towering several feet above them, held the reins with a steady hand.

“We have urgent business,” Marcus’s deep voice boomed, leaving no room for argument. His gaze, steely and unwavering, met that of the [Templars]. The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances, clearly taken aback by the sheer size of the man before them.

Without further ado, the [Templars] stepped aside, shrugging their duties off their shoulders with surprising ease, allowing the carriage to pass through the gates. Lily, having been on the other side of Marcus’s punches, knew very well what they must have been thinking after seeing the [Monk]’s hands. They weren’t the hands one would mess with for the meager pay of a city guard.

As they crossed the main gate, the scenery transformed. The streets were narrower here and the buildings taller, their shadows casting long, dark swathes across the cobblestones.

Lily leaned back in her seat, her mind racing. She felt a twinge of anxiety tempered by a surge of determination. This was where she needed to be.

The massive carriage made its way through the bustling streets, maneuvering around vendors and pedestrians with practiced ease. The sights and sounds, and, most importantly, the smells, of the city were overwhelming – the clatter of hooves, the shouts of merchants, the laughter and chatter of the ordinary folk. The chamber pots that some still used in the poorest parts of town emanated vile smells that reached far from their puddles.

Marcus’s voice broke her reverie. “We’re almost there,” he announced.

…

Lily sat across from Hadrian, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery, but her mind was elsewhere.

Hadrian, disgusted by being in the capital, broke the silence first. “Remember, the artifact I gave you will hide your magic, but it’s not foolproof. Steer clear of the clergy, especially the [Pope]. If they decide to scrutinize you, things could get... complicated.”

Lily nodded, clutching the necklace the man had given her, capable of hiding her mandalas and the residues of Death Magic, and her gaze was still locked on the city outside. “I understand,” she said, turning to him, “But didn’t you say that having [Meditation] nearly at the Master Stage would offer some protection?”

Hadrian scoffed lightly. “It will. But you should’ve trained it more. A Master Stage [Meditation] is a formidable shield of the soul against prying eyes.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I haven’t been trying. Mastering [Meditation] is difficult, you know.”

“Oh, really?” Hadrian frowned. “How hard can it be for someone who’s had a glimpse of the Second World?”

Their bickering was interrupted by Marcus’s deep voice calling from the driver’s seat. “We’re at your house, Aurora.”

Lily peered out of the window and saw the familiar facade of her childhood villa. It stood there, a grand structure of stone and memories. She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and stepped out of the carriage.

Together with Hadrian, Lily entered the house. The air inside was stale, filled with the echoes of life once vibrant but now paused—even though her family was rich and influential, her father had ordered all the servants away from it, knowing that if assassins entered the place, the innocent would become collateral damage in their absence.

They ascended the staircase, their steps resounding in the quietness, which was only illuminated by the natural light from outside.

In her room, everything was as she had left it, except for one thing – the Book of the Dead was lying on her bed. A surge of emotions washed over her, a tumultuous mix of fear, anticipation, and unresolved feelings.

“Your father really left it in plain sight,” Hadrian sighed, picking up the book with caution and examining its cover. He caressed the central figure on the cover, a sort of deity with outstretched wings and eyes that seemed to hold the cosmos within them. The [Librarian] scanned the golden sun above the deity, with two serpents intertwined around a stake of wood. Lucianus had told him he’d leave it in the house for when his daughter ever decided to return.

“The Old Gods and their flair. This is the real deal,” he muttered, almost to himself, before handing it to Lily.

She held the book, feeling its weight, both physically and metaphorically. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to study it?” she asked, moving it toward him.

Hadrian shook his head and pushed it back to her chest. “No. This book is tied to you in ways we don’t fully understand yet. Besides, I believe you have some unfinished business with it.”

Lily nodded and placed the book carefully under her pillow. “I’ll come back for it once I’m done. I can’t carry it with me now.”

Hadrian looked at her, a mix of concern and respect in his eyes. “Are you sure about this, girl? This city is not safe. The monastery is a sanctuary compared to this place.”

Lily met his gaze, her eyes resolute. “I know. But hiding in the monastery would be no different from choosing another prison. I have things to do here, like you said, unfinished business. Once I’m done, I’ll return. Maybe I’ll have a class by then, and we can explore those Dungeons you talked about, old man.”

Hadrian sighed, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not that old, you know,” he mumbled, then hesitated before adding, “Be careful, girl.”

They went downstairs, and Hadrian was about to walk through the door, but as he turned to say goodbye, Lily stepped forward and embraced him – an awkward but sincere gesture. Hadrian, taken aback, returned the hug clumsily. “Rotten city, rotten people,” he muttered.

Releasing the hug, Hadrian produced two tightly sealed scrolls from his pocket and handed them to Lily. “A parting gift,” he said.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Lily eyed the scrolls curiously. “What are these?”

“Remember your idea about nuclear fission from when I got obsessed with changing your combat style to include nuclear punches?” Hadrian asked, an impish glint in his eye.

“Yes?” Lily replied, intrigue piqued. “I remember that I had to convince you that it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Well, anyway, this is much better than a few punches. Light these on fire and throw them at your enemies if you’re in real trouble. But don’t waste them on low-level idiots,” Hadrian advised with a hint of seriousness.

Lily took the scrolls carefully, looking at them with a frown. Then, as her eyes rose to meet the grumpy yet kind [Librarian], she saw him walking away, joining Marcus by the carriage.

Standing alone in her parents’ house, Lily briefly reflected on her time with Hadrian. He had never refused her anything regarding her training. He had tested her, yes, but always supported her choices. She had grown and transformed under his guidance, and now it was time to take the next step on her own.

With the scrolls safely tucked away in her robe, Lily gazed out of the window at the city sprawling before her. Alalia, with all its beauty and decay, was sick.

And she was here to cure it of all its sickness.

All of it.

…

The quarantine had transformed the slums of Alalia into a shadow of their former selves. Lily, shrouded in the early morning mist, navigated the desolate streets with a cautious yet determined stride. The hastily erected barricades, manned by vigilant [Templars], formed a barrier around the area. But barriers were mere suggestions to someone like Lily.

She moved through the area around the slums in the eerie silence. The slums lay segregated from the rest of the city, but one too many patrols had given her the side-eye as she walked by. Their vigilant eyes scanned for any sudden movement, their hands never far from their swords.

Lily, veiled in the anonymity provided by her hooded cloak, moved to find the less manned part of the wall from where she could enter; as one could imagine, entering the quarantined zone was only allowed to [Healers] and a few [Templars] who were there to maintain public order. But even the classers were apparently not safe from the plague that had enveloped the city.

As she approached the barrier, her heart pounding in her chest, she scanned for [Templars], but there were none close by. With a deep breath, she focused her energy, feeling the familiar tingle of [Wraithform] envelop her. In an instant, she became less than a wisp of air, her form phasing through the wall effortlessly. Once on the other side, she released the skill, her body solidifying back to its physical state.

Ok, now, I need to find Aunt Gentiliana.

There were several reasons Lily had decided to come here to deal with the plague. The first was, obviously, that she was the only person in the entire Papal State capable of healing diseases. The second and no less important was that her aunt had contracted the disease while working in the field. Marcus had told her as much—that had dissipated any doubt on whether she would have come or not.

There was nothing and no one, including the [Pope] himself, who would have been able to stop her.

She had taken precautions, including the artifact she had been given by Hadrian to mask her Death Magic. But still, being here and inevitably ending up with a lot of attention to her name would attract many eyes. But there was no sure way of doing this without the risk of being imprisoned again.

This time, however, as Lily tightened her grip over the scrolls Hadrian had given her, no one would be able to lock her away without paying a bitter price for it.

She looked ahead to a part of the city she had never been allowed in, not even when she roamed the Citadel with Elysium.

The slums were a harrowing sight. The narrow streets were littered with debris, and the air was thick with the stench of despair. People lay in puddles of stagnant water, their bodies motionless, the light long gone from their eyes. Dirt caked on their skin, with only gray blisters protruding out of the patina of filth that covered them. Those people had not gone into the dark peacefully.

As Lily walked the dirty streets, she found herself horrified by this terrible spectacle. And when she got closer to the bodies to quench her curiosity, she put a hand over her mouth.

The plague. Not just any plague. This is the plague.

The Black Death.

There were gray, bubonic eruptions all over the corpses’ faces.

It doesn’t matter. Black Death against Death Magic, bacteria against magic. There shouldn’t be a contest.

She kept walking through the desolate landscape when a sudden movement caught her eye. A rat as big as a medium-sized dog, its fur matted and eyes glowing with a sickly yellow hue, emerged from a broken sewer hole. Its jaws clamped onto a limp body lying close by, trying to drag it into the darkness of the sewers.

A surge of anger welled up inside Lily. She sprinted towards the grotesque creature, her eyes icy with resolve. The rat hissed viciously as it noticed her approach, its teeth bared. But Lily was undeterred. As the rat swiped at her with its claws, she ignored its futile attacks, her skin impervious to such a pitiful attempt thanks to [Alchemic Constitution].

With a swift motion, Lily grabbed the rat by its throat, holding it up as it squealed and released the body, writhing in her grasp as only its hind legs touched the pavement. It kept swiping at her, but she just stared at its snapping, hissing mouth with blind fury.

“When I’m done with this, I’m coming for all of you,” she said through her teeth, her voice a low growl. “I haven’t forgotten. Whatever horror lives with you down there, it will soon know death.”

[Death Touch]

[Inferior Mandala of the Black Rain]

[Necrotic Restoration]

The rat’s head detached from its body, the flesh around the wound melting away in a gruesome display. Thanks to [Necrotic Restoration], Lily felt a wave of rejuvenation wash over her, the tiredness from her journey ebbing away.

She turned her gaze towards the sewer entrance, its darkness beckoning her. For a moment, she considered plunging into its depths, but she shook off the impulse. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Continuing through the slums, Lily eventually arrived at a tent that stood out amidst the squalor, right in the middle of a large plaza. It was larger than the others and bore the markings of her Gens.

She saw a few [Templars] patrolling the area, who stared at her for a while but proceeded to look for someone more threatening than a lanky girl in an oversized cloak.

They can see I have no class, Lily thought to herself as she approached the tent and, with a big inhale, walked inside.

The interior of the tent was par for the course to the bleakness outside. Amidst the dim light and the dense, humid air, rows of makeshift beds lined the ground. Each bed cradled a small, frail figure – children, their faces drawn and pale, their bodies fighting a battle they could barely comprehend.

At the center of this quiet struggle stood Gentiliana, her face fatigued but determined. Her eyes, usually bright and alert, were now dull, and several blisters covered her face.

Lily paused at the entrance, taking in the scene before her… it had been two years since Gentiliana last visited the monastery. The older woman had been busy with the war efforts, sadly. The sight of her aunt, the woman she knew as a kind but respected healer and now reduced to a shadow of herself, ignited a flame within her. She stepped forward, her cloak billowing softly behind her and her presence seemingly out of place.

Gentiliana, absorbed in her task, didn’t notice Lily’s entrance at first. It was only when Lily’s shadow fell over her that she looked up, her eyes widening in shock and fear. “Aurora? What are you doing here?! It’s dangerous!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of concern and disbelief, looking around and wondering who had let her niece in.

Lily offered no words in return. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes fixed on her aunt with an unwavering gaze. Extending her hand, she gently placed her palm against Gentiliana’s forearm and grabbed it.

[Death Touch]

[Lesser Mandala of Eradication]

The familiar sensation of Death Magic surged through Lily, but no mandala appeared visibly. It barely looked like she even used any skill.

Gentiliana’s body suddenly shuddered under the influence of the skill, her eyes widening in a mix of pain and awe.

Slowly, color began to return to Gentiliana’s cheeks, the pallor of sickness giving way to the warm hues of life.

“Auntie, use your healing on yourself,” Lily said, taking her hand away. For a moment, Gentiliana sat in stunned silence, her gaze shifting between her hands and Lily. Then, as if suddenly reminded of her own abilities, she activated her healing skill. A soft, warm light enveloped her, completing the work Lily had begun. The damage the sickness had caused faded away, leaving her looking healthier and her eyes regaining their former sparkle. Soon, the deep lines of fatigue smoothed, her breathing steadied, and a look of incredulity spread across her face.

Lily, however, did not share the moment of relief. Her expression remained stoic, her eyes scanning the tent and its small occupants. Her gaze lingered on the sick children. A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Lily said.