There were two figures of particular interest now. The first was the Scarlet Healer who supposedly belonged to an unknown Atelier, and the second was none other than the silent canvas-wearing Painter who trailed along.

Frost wrapped him up with a few of her Touch of Golds. As an Impuritas she was not going to let him have a single avenue of escape or attack. One fell swoop and it was over for him. He knew this well and did not offer any signs of resistance, obeying her one command of “Don’t do anything or I’ll kill you on the spot.”

Needless to say; Frost was not too fond of the Impuritas anymore. Giving them the benefit of the doubt was too risky. The only reason he was even alive was because he was imprisoned by the Blood Festival and considered an enemy of the Maestros of Flesh within that musical city, meaning he was their enemy of sorts.

They travelled along the dusted lands of the caverns once again, backtracking towards Ignis and the others with their delicious, fruity cargo. When Frost asked this man, whose name was Ayel, about his circumstances, he simply scoffed at her and spoke dejectedly:

“You don’t have to treat me like a criminal. I just like to paint.”

“He likes to paint.” The Scarlet Healer, who went by the name of Scarlet Healer No. 113, or simply Poena, chimed in whilst pointing a finger at him. “I’m sad you betrayed me letting her busty twin heal you. Haaah. Haaah. I wanted to heal you so badly~ You don’t understand. Healing is my job down here.”

For some reason Ayel shivered whenever Poena approached. He had some sort of trauma towards her, and from what Frost gathered about the Scarlet Healers, it was easy to see why.

They were essentially healers that could kill by simply overhealing a target. They were obsessive healers with no other goal in mind than to ‘nurture’ the injured or malnourished.

These types of healers were created in a very precarious way. The affinity would be gained normally just like any ordinary healer, except theirs would manifest when they were afflicted with a mortal wound.

This meant that they were cursed to live with that wound forever, as they could only heal themselves back to the state that they were in when they first attained the affinity for healing.

It was a curse no doubt with no known cure or circumvention.

Poena's wound was a large hole that was carved into her heart, causing blood to sputter out like a fountain, hence her title as the Blood Fountain.

“How does a healer end up killing someone?” Morbid curiosity overtook Frost, causing the Healer to scuttle around, still bleeding as the triplets glared at her in disgust.

“Hehehe. HP overflow. Too much blood rushing through the body. Lumps of skin growing until it consumes the person and crushes them. Or the brain expanding until the skull explodes like a bomb!” She said with delight, obviously unhinged. “You see, we Scarlet Healers are the most proficient healers! Good for a job where your comrades in arms are constantly getting hurt. A front line healer!”

“Scarlet Healers are effective in the right hands. But they’re completely unpredictable. You said that thing’s from Oboros Infinitas? Never heard of them. Could be a fake Atelier for all we know.” Cer spoke hypercritically of the healer, expressing immense distaste towards their perversion of healing.

“It’s not like I can help it. But that’s the whole reason why they send us everywhere and nowhere with the Condemned in our iron coffins.” Poena hummed, moving her hands along the air like a chugging train. “What’s with those faces? You don’t know about the Condemned?”

“We don’t even know what the hell your Oboros Infinitas is. You think we’ll know what the Condemned are?” Cer rebutted.

“Have some respect.” Res demanded, clearing her throat before she asked: “Can you please explain? Don’t think about lying either. You’re in the presence of an Aspiring Beholder and the Archetype of Amalgamation.”

“… you’re the thing they’re afraid of?” Ayel suddenly spoke as a pair of curious eyebrows were painted along his canvas-like face, which was more like a mask now that Frost had a closer look.

“I am. For some stupid prophecy of theirs. Do you know about it?” Frost demanded an answer.

“How bloody rude. I hate to paint a face liked that. A-Alright. I’ll speak. Not at all. Well, vaguely. But – That means you’re an enemy of theirs! I suppose it wouldn’t be too much for me to ask of you to eliminate that pesky opera singer!” He was suddenly hopeful of the prospect of Frost eradicating Leitmotif.

This raised a few questions.

“Tell me then, what’s your relationship with them?” She needed to know. It was strange to see another Impuritas in an Impuritas-rich environment become ostracized. The likelihood of him being of use was high, but the leash she imposed on him would have to remain.

He explained that he was a Painter influenced by the beating of a certain, powerful Heart in a distant land within the Derma layer. It was one that inspired powerful desires within a person. People were transformed by that said Heart into the musicians, whereas he and a few others were driven to create artworks.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

It made no sense to Frost.

“Put it this way. They believe that music must be expressed by the flesh. We believe that things can be expressed in a less visceral method. Painting.”

He said as a beautiful oil painting of the City of Vocals was magically drawn along his canvas mask by an invisible brush.

Ayle Aun Canvas. Oil on Canvas… Names really are everything, huh.

“Casting our desires with each brushstroke onto a canvas. Deep down I suppose the root of our desires is the aspiration of being acknowledged.” He solemnly expressed, causing Frost’s feathers to rustle powerfully in response.

Her grip around him suddenly loosened a little.

Huh. That’s… that’s interesting. Painters and Musicians at are odds with each other. Both were not made by a Heart. They were influenced by it.

“It is possible that by being influenced by a Heart, an Impuritas will not perish alongside it.”

That means the Bloody Herring is still out there. Fucking hell.

If her feathers were to be trusted, then this meant that the Bloody Herring was also likely influenced by the Heart rather than having been created by it. While she knew that he was a human at one point, she imagined that he would have had to go through some gruesome process to become what he was now.

It could even be a fish-skin Reorganizer parading with his organs and mind.

But that didn’t seem to be the case.

The Impuritas were a strange, enigmatic existence. But she now had some valuable insight thanks to Ayel.

Still, trust remained to be a major issue. Until she could guarantee his allegiance, then he was a potential enemy for all she knew. Of course, Frost was not blind to not see her prejudice.

But the regret that would follow if someone perished because of her lowered guard would haunt her. She needed an air-tight approach more than ever now. They were, after all, up against a Woe of the Fallen Star Corrupted.

Once the silence returned Poena waved at the triplets, trying to get them to warm up to her, but she was only met with glares and growls. She didn’t seem too fussed by it, and instead, adored their vicious, uncomfortable expressions.

“You asked what my Atelier was. Think about the worst possible crime that can be committed. Times it by a hundred. Then imagine that it was done by Atelier members! People of the Nexus!”

She walked backwards in front of the group, nearly tripping over a stray rock as they walked in her trail of endless blood.

“Punishment. Endless lament in a cycle that cannot be broken. We, the Condemned, are sentenced to the Wells where we live to die. I worked with the most egregious of murderers and other foul people.”

She glanced at Frost, hugging herself erotically as she hyperventilated with a flushed face.

“Oh a poor healer, all alone with a bunch of criminals. Haaah. Haaah. I revelled in it like a pig rolling in mud! So. Much. Healing was to be done!”

… and I thought the Wandering Healers were broken. She’s on a completely different level. No wonder the triplets are on edge. She’s dangerous.

“Dangerously good as a healer? Shall we rename the Scarlet Healers as Harmacists then?”

Nav, of all the times you could have made a pun, why does it have to be now? Frost mentally sighed as goosebumps plagued her body.

“They’re an Atelier that punishes criminals, huh.” Frost couldn’t form any more words, still baffled by the recount made by that woman.

“Exalted. Moons. Stars. Beholders in rare instances, but no longer.” Poena revealed, jolting everyone as if a surge of electricity had run through them.

“Beholders are a tight knit group now a days. Better than 100 years ago when I first came around to being a Scarlet Healer. Wars everywhere. Well, the Iron Stars remember when our world was brimming with many Stars and Moons. Now we number in the few thousands. Probably less.”

She then approached Frost, touching her feathers as if trying to remember something.

“What did they call it… aaahhh… Ah! Degenerate! Those Iron Stars of the Chained Theocracy have a weird way of naming our world’s eras. They reckon we’re in the Degenerate Era, ever since a 50 years ago when the Nexus stopped getting a lot of new Stars.” Poena exclaimed excited.

“… Iron Star?” Frost uttered, wondering what kind of Stars those were.

“The oldest Stars of the Nexus. Some say they were present as far as the arrival of the First Advent. Weird, since the Nexus didn’t arrive until 150 years later. But we know that the Nexus is really the First Advent now.” Res promptly explained.

“Scarlet Healer. Do you know why they even bother punishing them? If they’re potential enemies of the Nexus, then why not just kill them? That’s what the Eclipses exist for.” Ber suddenly asked as the Scarlet Healer returned to Ayel’s side, causing the man to tug on Frost’s Touch of Golds, begging for her to wrap him tight.

“Nex. They want Nex from us. The Nex Accumulator syphons it from us as we delve into the Wells of our world. The Condemned must lament. I am the guarantor. It’s a shame~ I left my Nex Accumulator on my last crew member when our little iron coffin crashed into a trainyard arooooound… 10 years ago after a 30 yearlong journey.”

Frost suddenly froze in place. Apples spilled from her overhanding basket, showering them with chaotic thuds as she remembered that odd iron train; and the body that clutched onto the Nex Accumulator.

She was a passenger of that thing.

“What… Poena. Why do they need the Nex the first place?” She needed an answer.

“It’s a source of energy. Just like mana. Except it’s used exclusively by the Nexus.

And, by the technologies founded by the Beholders.”

* * *

< Frost. Now is a good time to reveal that your Nex is currently at 100,000 >

< I have measured its growth since you first gained the ability to accumulate Nex >

< You have been accumulating small quantities of Nex within the proximity of your group of survivors, and the masses within the Triple Paw Complex >

< However, that only amounted to 10,000 of it. The remaining 90,000 emerged when you manifested your Corrupted >

< More primarily however was whenever your emotions ran high >

< The implications of this are far reaching, aren’t they? >