The Archivist of Forgotten Realms
Chapter 5
As Mikasa made her way toward the distant castle, her senses on high alert, she stumbled upon a small, ruined village nestled in a valley between two hills.
The sight of it made her pause, a deep sense of sorrow washing over her. The village was in ruins, the buildings crumbling, their walls covered in vines and decay. The streets were empty, eerily silent, as if the very air had been drained of life. But as she stepped closer, she felt something—an energy, faint but undeniable.
There was still life here.
Someone was still alive.
Her heart raced as she scanned the village, her eyes searching for the source of the energy. It didn’t take long for her to spot them—the Wraithborn, six of them, circling a small, dilapidated house at the edge of the village.
Their twisted, shadowy forms clawed at the air, their hollow eyes glowing with a sickly, malevolent light. They moved with a purpose, their attention focused on the house as if they knew there was something inside worth consuming. Mikasa’s jaw tightened. Whoever was inside that house didn’t have much time.
She didn’t hesitate. Raising her hand, she called upon the magic that now flowed so easily through her, summoning a wave of light that crackled with energy.
The Wraithborn didn’t even have a chance to react. With a single flick of her wrist, Mikasa unleashed a torrent of light, the energy surging forward like a flood. The Wraithborn were consumed instantly, their shadowy forms disintegrating into nothingness as the magic tore through them. The air crackled with power, the silence that followed deafening in its stillness.
Mikasa lowered her hand. She had destroyed the Wraithborn with ease, but her mind was already racing to the person inside the house. She could feel it now—the faint pulse of life coming from within.
Someone was still alive, and they needed her help.
Without wasting another second, Mikasa ran toward the house, pushing open the creaky wooden door. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of dust and decay. Her heart pounded in her chest as she scanned the room, her eyes falling on a small figure huddled in the corner.
It was a girl, no older than eight, her body frail and thin, her white hair glistening like snow in the dim light. She was curled up in a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees, her breathing shallow and ragged.
The girl’s skin was pale, almost translucent, and her cheeks were sunken in from hunger. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, maybe even weeks. Mikasa’s heart clenched at the sight. The girl was on the brink of death. She couldn’t let this happen.
Not again.
Mikasa knelt beside the girl, gently brushing a strand of white hair away from her face.
"Hey," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
"It’s okay. I’m here to help." The girl’s eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, her pale blue irises filled with fear and confusion. She looked up at Mikasa, her lips trembling as if she wanted to speak, but no words came out.
Her body shook with each labored breath, and Mikasa could feel how close she was to the edge. She didn’t have much time. Mikasa’s mind raced, her thoughts scrambling for a solution.
She needed to heal the girl, but this wasn’t like the minor cuts and bruises she had dealt with before. This was starvation, exhaustion—something far more serious.
She called upon Lumi, the book hovering beside her as its pages flipped rapidly. "Come on, Lumi," she muttered under her breath, her hands shaking.
"Show me something. Anything." After a few tense moments, the book stopped on a page—a C-grade healing spell, designed for external wounds and fatigue. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had. Without wasting another second, Mikasa placed her hands on the girl’s frail body and began to channel the magic.
The soft glow of the healing spell enveloped the girl, her skin warming under the gentle light.
Mikasa could feel the magic working, slowly restoring some of the girl’s strength, but it wasn’t enough. The girl’s breathing steadied, but her body was still weak, and fragile. Mikasa gritted her teeth, her mind racing.
"Come on," she whispered, her voice desperate. "It’s not enough." She needed something stronger, something that could heal the damage done by days—maybe even weeks—of starvation. But the spell she had wasn’t powerful enough for that.
Her eyes darted toward the door, and in a flash of inspiration, she stood up.
"Wait here," she said softly to the girl, though she doubted the child was even aware of what was happening. Mikasa ran outside, scanning the nearby trees for any sign of food. After a few moments of searching, she spotted a bush with plump, purple berries growing on it. They looked edible—at least, they didn’t seem poisonous. She quickly gathered a handful of berries and rushed back to the house, sitting beside the girl once more. Gently, she coaxed the girl to eat, holding the berries to her lips.
The girl ate slowly, her weak hands trembling as she took each berry from Mikasa’s palm. It was a small victory, but it still wasn’t enough. The girl’s condition was still critical, her body barely holding on.
She resolved to ask Lumi for help, but the book seemed uncertain about her query. Instead, it flipped to a page labeled "Scan Technique."
This technique allowed the user to analyze the body for any injuries and display their status, revealing the severity of the damage and potential complications.
The Scan Technique was categorized as a B-Grade Technique, signifying it was a moderately powerful ability, requiring a fair amount of control and concentration for successful execution.
Hours passed, Mikasa's efforts relentless, but doubt began to creep in, her mind drifting to a memory of her little sister.
The thought of losing this child—this innocent girl who had suffered so much—was unbearable. "Lumi," she whispered, her voice shaking.
"What do I do? How do I save her?"
----------------------------------------
Flashback:
Mikasa was not an only child but had a younger sister named Yuki Tanaka who was two years younger than her.
Mikasa and her younger sibling Yuki were six and four years of age, respectively.
Mikasa, the elder sibling, had always felt a deep sense of responsibility towards Yuki, who was a sweet and innocent child. The two sisters shared a close bond, with Mikasa often taking on a maternal role, protecting Yuki and ensuring her safety. This strong sisterly connection would prove to be a driving force in Mikasa's life, shaping her actions and decisions throughout her life.
They were a close-knit pair, growing up together in a small but cozy apartment on the outskirts of the city. Yuki looked up to her big sister with awe and admiration, often following Mikasa around and trying to emulate her every move. The sisters shared a deep bond, finding solace in each other's company during the difficult times their family faced.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Yuki was frequently ill, often developing high fevers and debilitating colds that seemed to come from nowhere.
This sudden surge of illness would confine the young girl to her bed for days, at times, greatly concerning her family. Despite their parents' utmost efforts, Yuki's delicate body persisted as an unchanging source of worry, as she narrowly recovered from one illness before succumbing to another.
The family lived in a constant state of uncertainty, never knowing when the next health problem would strike and how long it would stay.
Mikasa spent much of her free time reading storybooks to her sister, hoping to lull her to sleep. As the elder sibling, Mikasa felt a sense of duty to ensure Yuki had someone to talk to, even when their parents were occupied with work.
It was a peaceful morning when Mikasa was working on a family illustration for her art class, intending to gift it to her beloved sister, Yuki.
The image captured the warmth and love of their small family, a precious memento she hoped would bring Yuki comfort during her delicate health struggles.
Suddenly, Mikasa was summoned to the principal's office, her heart racing with unease.
There, she learned the devastating news that Yuki had been hospitalized, her fragile condition taking a turn.
Mikasa's world seemed to pause, as tears streamed down her face, consumed by a mix of uncertainty and the overwhelming need to be by Yuki's side. Without hesitation, she rushed to the hospital near her home, her only focus being to reach her sister and offer whatever support and comfort she could during this time.
Upon arrival, Mikasa was directed to Room 4D, where she found Yuki lying in the hospital bed. The family had received the devastating news that Yuki had been diagnosed with Kawasaki disease.
If she had been admitted sooner, her chances of survival may have been higher, but in her current condition, a miracle was needed to save her.
Mikasa's parents were devastated, but the young girl, still too innocent to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, clung to the belief that Yuki would pull through as she had before.
Her senses dulled, and she could only feel and hear the sound of her own beating heart, a relentless rhythm that seemed to echo in the room.
She knew deep down what had happened, but she was lying to herself, clinging to a desperate hope that refused to acknowledge the truth.
Yuki will be fine, she told herself.
Yuki has gotten through this many times before.
Yuki is strong.
Those were the thoughts that always appeared in her head as she sat beside her sister, holding onto the belief that Yuki would pull through against all odds.
Deciding to care for her sister, Mikasa skipped school to remain by Yuki's side, reading her favorite stories as she had done countless times when Yuki was ill.
Yuki would always stay up to hear the end of all her stories, no matter how sleepy she was or how much pain she was enduring. Even in her weakest moments, Yuki would insist on knowing how the tales ended, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and determination.
Those memories were so precious to me.
Finally, Mikasa reached her last book. It was a fairytale about a great mage who liberated a country, a story that both Yuki and Mikasa cherished.
They would often read it multiple times, drawn to the tale of a hero who never gave up and ultimately sacrificed himself to protect those he loved. The story was both sad and encouraging, a bittersweet mix that kept them coming back for more. Mikasa could never get enough of the powerful emotions it evoked.
As she read the final words and whispered, "The End," she gently closed the book and turned to look at Yuki.
She places her hand on her.
She believed that the warmth of her touch and the soothing sound of her voice could offer a sense of security, a lifeline to cling to amidst the uncertainty that surrounded them. The tales of heroes and magic were a reminder of the power of hope and the strength that could be found in the love between sisters.
She looked over to Yuki, only to witness her sister's breathing stop.
Mikasa doesn't know what to do; she never imagined that this would happen.
In her panic, she bolted out of the room, screaming for help, screaming for anyone, anyone to save her sister.
Her cries echoed down the sterile hallways, each one a desperate plea for assistance. As the doctors and nurses heard the screams, they all rushed into the room, their faces etched with concern.
Mikasa didn't stop; she kept running, her heart pounding in her chest until she reached the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her and collapsed in front of the nearest toilet, her body heaving as she vomited, the cold tiles pressing against her knees.
She clung to the toilet, her mind racing with disbelief and fear.
Yuki is strong,
she thought to herself, repeating that mantra over and over as if the words alone could will her sister to pull through. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, and her vision began to blur. Exhaustion caught up with her, and she felt herself slipping away, her consciousness fading until everything went black and she passed out on the bathroom floor.
Mikasa woke up to the sound of her parents’ faint sobs, their faces etched with grief she hadn’t seen before.
Still dizzy, she pushed herself up, her mind racing back to the last moments she remembered. She glanced around, her heart pounding with a sudden, inexplicable dread.
“Where’s Yuki?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The words that followed were the ones she had prayed she would never hear:
Yuki is dead.
The phrase echoed in her head, a relentless, haunting melody that refused to fade. She screamed, accusing her parents of lying.
It had to be a lie
Yuki was strong
Invincible
Mikasa was the weak one, the one who should have been taken.
As the days stretched into the funeral, Mikasa found herself sinking into a deep depression.
She sat through the ceremony, her eyes fixed on the ground, unable to process the mountain of thoughts and emotions that swirled within her. When they lowered Yuki’s casket into the ground, Mikasa couldn’t bring herself to look, to say her final goodbye.
The pain was too much, too overwhelming. It was a deep, suffocating sorrow that clung to her like a cloak, a heavy cloud that refused to lift, even as time passed, each day a grim reminder of the void left behind.
----------------------------------------
Mikasa focuses her thoughts, and at last, she applies the technique to the girl, sensing immense energy from the girl's stomach and liver, which appear to be ruptured.
Mikasa swiftly turns to the page with an A-grade healing spell designed for organs. She concentrates and to her surprise, succeeds in casting the spell on her first try.
Unsure if the spell had worked, Mikasa examines the girl, discovering her condition to be steady. Relief floods through her, but the exhaustion is too much, and she collapses to the ground.
Mikasa decides to stay the night in the house, caring for the girl and preparing food for when she wakes up. As she gazes at the girl, she estimates her age to be around eight, reminiscent of her little sister. A smile crosses Mikasa's face as she reflects that, although her work was challenging and painful, being able to save someone is good enough to satisfy her efforts.
The next day arrives and the girl stirs to the sight of Mikasa sitting beside her.
"Good morning," Mikasa greeted her.
The girl immediately tenses, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with a mix of caution and fear. Her small hands grip the blanket tightly, and she shrinks back slightly, unsure of what to make of Mikasa or her situation.
She is wary, her mind still fresh with the appearance of the Wraithborn in her village. Sensing her fear, Mikasa quickly assures her,
"It's okay, I won't hurt you." She introduces herself gently, trying to put the girl at ease.
"I'm Mikasa. What's your name?" The girl looks up at her, her eyes wide and uncertain, and replies in a language that Mikasa can't understand.
in which Mikasa realized that she never did learn the language due to not meeting any living beings so far except for the girl.
Mikasa calls out to Lumi and asks for a dictionary or translation of the girl's words. Lumi flips over to a translation spell, which is C-grade and easy enough for Mikasa to learn.
Finally, Mikasa asks the girl once more, "What is your name?"
The girl replies, her voice soft and hesitant, "I don't know."
Mikasa realizes the trauma must have been bad for the girl—with the disappearance of everyone in the village and her seeming to be the only survivor.
Mikasa rose from her crouched position, her brow furrowed in contemplation. She turned to the young girl, her gaze filled with a mixture of empathy and concern.
"It wouldn't be safe for you to stay here alone," she said, her voice soft yet resolute.
"You'll come with me. I can't leave you in this place, not when it's so dangerous." The girl's eyes widened, a glimmer of hope sparking within them.
Mikasa extended her hand, offering the girl a chance at safety and a way forward, away from the shadows that threatened to consume her. The girl seems confused, but she nods at Mikasa, and they head out of the village together. As they walk, Mikasa catches a glimpse of the girl's hair under the light, and it shines a brilliant white, almost like freshly fallen snow.
She asks the girl in her language if she would like to be given a new name.
The girl nods hesitantly, her expression one of uncertainty. She seems unsure of Mikasa's offer, her brow furrowing slightly as she considers the decision before her.
Despite the fear in her eyes, there is a glimmer of hope that perhaps this stranger can provide the safety and escape she so desperately seeks.
Mikasa considers the girl's uncertain expression for a moment, sensing the glimmer of hope beneath the fear in her eyes. With a gentle smile, Mikasa tells the girl that from now on, her name will be Yuki—a name that holds deep meaning and significance for Mikasa.
The girl's eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected offer, but then a small, tentative smile spreads across her face.
"Yuki," she repeats, testing out the unfamiliar syllables. "That is a beautiful name."
Mikasa can't help but smile back, the bittersweet memory of her beloved sister, stirring within her.
In this girl, Mikasa sees a chance to honor that cherished connection, to give someone else the opportunity for a new beginning that her sister never had the chance to experience.
The weight of this responsibility settles upon Mikasa's shoulders, but she is determined to provide this girl with the safety and belonging that has so long eluded her.