Chapter 12 - From The Ashes

How beautiful was it that so many gathered to work together for these new lives?

Oh, they were, for sure, no great band of heroes – much less infamous villains – but the joining of their skills and spells, all focused on trying to ensure hope blossomed from tragedy, was still worthy of having its story told.

And five were the souls attempting to bring life from what was already dead.

A [Bone Mender], fierce and serious as she sliced flesh with a blade unsuited, struggling to keep her mind from wandering to the rumors she heard.

A [Priestess], believer of the maddening sun and struggling to protect her people from further disaster, desperate for a win.

An [Apothecary], young and tired – but that still stood and helped when it mattered, worried about what else he could do.

A [Perfumer], spraying his inventions on the room with a grimace on his face, willing to spend even his most expensive creations if necessary.

A [Death Doctor], new to his role but growing with every second.

An odd troupe by any measure, but one committed to what they had to do. And this is the tale of their final effort.

***

In the land of the awake, a struggle ensued. One that had just begun, yes, but that was difficult from the start. Iaakis, for all of her self-taught knowledge of her Class, was no earthly [Surgeon] or [Obstetrician] – she was, in fact, much closer to a [Butcher] at times than a real, life-saving [Doctor].

It was a detail her mother always remembered, whenever they talked – and she clutched harder onto her skills every time the criticism came from the prim and proper [Seamstress]. Still, Iaakis did take to her job as a [Bone Mender] with seriousness, learning with every hound with a broken paw brought to her house or the great fractures some of the [Scouts] and [Rangers] under Elder Cariken came with after a hunt. Sometimes, she even got her hands on a body or two, though dead animals and Nightmares were the main skeletons she got.

Iaakis still had to get an imp’s body to study. She knew, factually, that it would be almost impossible to find one – and heavily frowned upon if anyone found out – but the [Bone Mender] knew it would mark a new step into her Class and understanding of how to help her kind. Her mother had always taught her to know the needle and the thread before making a piece.

Nevertheless, she had learned. That was an unshakable fact and one of the few possessions of Iaakis she had gained with none of the meddlings from her mother. And, therefore, something the [Seamstress] could not revoke as a punishment.

It was a heady feeling – one that she had lost herself in more than once, turning simple arguments with Linkri into devastating clashes as stubbornness and pride met the unwavering wall of someone that truly believed that what they were doing was for the best.

Still, what really mattered was that Iaakis, a level 14 [Bone Mender], was well-learned in her craft. She understood, to some measure, the configuration of skeletons – from how articulations worked, to the odd gelatinous substance inside some of them, or even how much lighter impish bones were when compared to a Hellhounds’ for example.

What Iaakis didn’t know was how anything besides bones worked. Organs and skin? The natural processes of imps and other creatures? No, that wasn’t something she had ever cared to learn about, trusting that Kiringar would always have someone to fill in the role so that the [Bone Mender] could focus on what she liked.

And the village had one such person. A [Healer], a generalist of great importance that kept those from adjacent Classes from unfocusing on what they wanted. But Eiko had died months ago – taken by the Ashen Lungs as a heavy blow to their community – and all Iaakis could do now was regret the lack of knowledge.

It… wasn’t enough to stop her, however. The imp woman still worked with all her focus on every single step of her task, trying to ensure she could deliver Eiko’s and Celike’s babies in perfect health.

And doing that took time.

“Are you done, girl?”

Uncle Orieke’s voice sounded from behind her, looming over her shoulder while Iaakis analyzed where best to make an incision. She fiddled with the blade she had – a metallic edge Iaakis bought back when merchants still came to Kiringar, so different from the usual ceramics used for cooking and by other [Healers] – and felt the too wide, too blunt of a knife. It was, much like her, unsuited for this – but still the best option.

Iaakis did not look back, instead choosing to once again mark where best to cut. She had asked Merino for some type of paint, and the [Apothecary] gave her a small vial of dark blue liquid that smelled of [Scribe]’s ink. It was already the third time the [Bone Mender] stretched a line of the paint on the lower part of Celike’s belly.

The tiny bottle only had a third of its contents left.

The woman took a deep breath and hissed once in confirmation.

“I… think this is it. May I – May I begin?”

She looked around for some assurance, eyes traveling around the odd troupe that had gathered around Celike’s body. Iaakis ignored the weird creature that had talked with Trakia, the one that had fallen unconscious after muttering a skill close to the [Cobbler]’s body, and waited as the trio took deep breaths – and hissed.

“Begin. We’ll assist with what we can.”

Orieke spoke, already taking a vial from his bag of holding, and Merino got in position to cast the [Clean] spell as many times as it would be necessary. Elder Trakia, quietly, used her own magic to dispel Iaakis’s anxiety – the sudden clarity from [Clear Emotions] making her hands still and ready.

Iaakis didn’t thank the woman – but also didn’t back down from her touch, and that was as much respect as she was willing to give the [Priestess].

In the end, the [Bone Mender] willed her lungs to work, and held her small blade at the ready, one of her four fingers on the spine of the thick knife to better help her guide it. She hoped her [Resistant Edge] skill would help in making the instrument as sharp as she needed it to be to avoid harming the babies – but part of her knew that skill would only assist in ensuring her tools didn’t whittle away too quickly when sawing bone.

So she focused on another skill. One that she got at level 10. A capstone skill, as they were called. Iaakis hissed its name with the low voice of a mind at the ready.

“[Osseous Vision].”

And her sight changed. It wasn’t as much as an X-Ray vision, as it would have been useless if it stopped her from seeing where she had to cut. No, [Osseous Vision] was something different – it was the skill for someone that wished to study skeletons without causing great trouble. The power to see, even from afar, the movement of bones under the skin.

Her eyes flashed, black deepening for a second before settling back on the usual darkness, and Iaakis saw Celike’s bones rise from within – slowly taking their place on her skin like a perfectly tattooed depiction of her skeleton, marks of painted ivory that told Iaakis what she needed to see.

And not only did it work for the dead woman. The twins – just like the tall creature had talked about – also had bones. And with [Osseous Vision], Iaakis now knew where not to cut. All the [Bone Mender] had to do was be quick about it, before her skill ran out.

With a final breath, she began.

***

How many layers of tissue are there before someone reaches an organ? Before reaching bone? In how many steps, is a body built?

A series of questions that, many times, never went through the mind of the common citizen. They have more to worry about after all – like winter, or if their taxes were done correctly and they hadn’t actually committed a crime without knowing simply because they forgot a receipt somewhere.

Or just, you know, if there’s milk in the fridge.

Anyway, those were real worries. But what happened when you needed to face something you didn’t see coming? An event you couldn’t predict, disturbing your life and making that inconspicuous little flaw you had shine as bright as the sun?

Well, there were a few options. Many people just… winged it, as they say – trying to fix the situation with half an understanding and gritted teeth. Others were more careful, taking their time with every step to ensure no large harm came due to their ignorance.

Iaakis feared she was somewhere in the middle of those two options.

The [Bone Mender] started with a shallow cut, her blade passing through the skin with less smoothness than she expected – Iaakis needing to put more strength on the finger at the knife’s spine to ensure it broke through the skin.

At the exact moment she finished her first incision, Iaakis heard Merino call for his spell besides her – her own [Bloodless Cut] skill hardly having time to work before the [Apothecary] cleaned the wound she made.

It was… unnecessary, in a way – but when Iaakis pointed it out previously, Orieke told her it was a must when performing these types of operations. The [Bone Mender] wouldn’t be the one to gain say the old [Perfumer], especially since taking the advice of one of the few people here in Kiringar that left the village to study was a great privilege, but she did doubt it for a second.

Still, she gave a long hiss as an indication for Merino to continue and kept to her work. With the barrier of the skin completely out of the game, and the long incision running horizontally, Iaakis performed the next cut on the thin layer of yellowish fat beneath. The smell wasn’t difficult to handle – most of those present still wore the half-spherical mask filled with herbs that covered their lower face, Orieke being the only one to refuse the apparel – but she still felt the faint undertone of it.

The smell of raw meat, needing to be cleaned but almost ready for the pan. A dreadful thought that came intrusively enough she stilled for a second before continuing, frowning in disgust. Her knife slid once more, slowly opening the gap in the soft tissue, when a voice spoke once more.

“Are you closer, already?”

Iaakis sighed, and this time, she turned back to look at the [Perfumer]. The woman lowered her knife

“Uncle. I’m going as quickly as I can. I need to be cautious to not harm the babies.”

“And you are sure your delay won’t harm them even further?”

The [Bone Merder] tightened her grip on the blade.

“No, but I’d rather run the risk of time than go blindly through the process and slice one of them – you know how fragile they are.”

The [Perfumer] seemed to relent, hissing a long affirmation before their eyes narrowed. He presented her the small vial he had previously taken from his enchanted bag, a crystal bottle with a cork on top and filled with a yellow oil that sparked silently.

“Take off your mask, Iaakis. I’ll use this once so that we can all go to our homes and sleep as soon as possible. Damned chaos.”

Now, it was her turn to narrow her eyes – an action that was met with a huff and an impatient rise of a brow from Orieke. Iaakis took her mask off before the old [Perfumer] ripped it off her face.

He approached her and opened the bottle, letting the scent drift inside her unprotected snout – a slow mist of crackling energy that made her nostrils flare, citrusy, and smelling like the highest point of a storm. Iaakis’s mind accelerated – a hundred thoughts going through her brain in the time it took her to have one – and the jolts she felt down her limbs, small spasms that made her claws tingle, told her there was even more to the perfume.

“What is that?”

Her words came in a hurry, the sounds tangled as the air carried them outwards. Orieke grinned.

“I call it ‘Heaven’s Spark’. An old recipe. But hurry – the effects won’t last for long.”

Her neck moved in lightning speed as soon as the words sunk in, and before Merino could even begin to call for another round of the [Clean] spell, she had already made another cut.

The perfume didn’t only make her think quickly. Everything Iaakis did now came with a degree of control and dexterity that turned her hands into a blur without losing efficiency. It was like… the time around her was running faster.

No wonder Orieke deserved his place as one of the Nine Artisans. The man was a veritable beast when it came to his job – and Iaakis knew, that much like all the other Artisans, his true masterpieces were hidden and locked. Much like her mother’s.

Nevertheless, the [Bone Mender] sliced through different layers of tissue with all the enhanced speed and focus she could muster – the [Apothecary] beside her spending so much mana in his spells his hands had begun to glow in a sign of waning control.

Still, she worked. Fat parted quickly to reveal a whitish membrane she sliced through, revealing the muscle underneath – and Iaakis extended the cut even further down, piercing the red tissue with her knife with movements calculated in a fraction of a second. She sliced again, knife almost singing as it went across Celike’s exposed interiors, and reached the uterus with a sigh of relief.

The [Bone Mender] cut through, and saw the crown of one of the babies’ heads positioned against the fissure. Iaakis allowed the knife to hang low, making a tiny slice on the amniotic sac at the same time her hand pushed inwards – finding a tender grip on the tiny body, careful of the wings that were curled around their waist, and pulled.

Wet sounds ensued as the first of the babies slipped through the open wound, covered in amniotic fluid and blood, but as soon as Iaakis pulled him out, the child began to cry.

The sound of its wails brought relief to every single one of the weary souls around him. The boy, the first to be born, had the lovely light pink that Eiko also had – no horns yet, but already his wings began to unfurl from their tangling. He was a tiny baby, thin as well, but Iaakis believed it was the fault of the shared space with his sibling rather than some unforeseen problem.

Orieke was the one to take him. The old [Perfumer], for all of his thorns, acted kindly with the boy in his arms, nursing him while trying to find something in his bag. And in the meantime, the [Bone Mender] used the last of the effects of the perfume to finish what she had started.

Iaakis had to widen the cut a little more to safely take the second baby out. Their head was aligned to the left, almost diagonal, but she tried to palm the wet interior of Celiek’s womb to find a good enough grip. Merino, bless his heart, still cast the same simple spell over and over – which allowed her not to think too much about the amniotic fluid coating her arm. There were reasons why she preferred the cleanliness of bones over other body parts.

Still, Iaakis soon found her hand firm enough around the other child’s torso, and once more, she pulled.

The second baby only came out to half of the distance of her brother. And the sudden limitation stopped the budding triumph from bursting within Iaakis chest. She saw, frozen in place, as the umbilical cord around the little girl’s neck pulled her head back – choking the child.

Trakia gasped behind her. Merino hurried to take the knife from her hands and cut the cord, alleviating the pressure that turned the girl’s pretty pink face a shade of blue. Orieke remained silent.

But even after Iaakis found the focus within herself to untangle the cord from around the girl’s neck, even after she gave tiny slaps to her back –

– The girl did not cry.

“Nonononono! What do we do?”

Her words snapped outwards, Iaakis still trying to elicit a response from the girl, and both the fear and the “Heaven’s Spark” made it so that her words came out in a single block of sound – almost unintelligible.

Dread clawed at her chest. She had been so close to doing it all perfectly – to saving Eiko’s children. She had tried so hard, bent her knowledge the best she could to ensure nothing bad happened, only for it to end like this.

Whycouldn’tshejustdoanythingrightforSun’s–

Iaakis felt a hand grip her shoulder, claws that dug into her skin and brought back her focus for a second – alongside a call.

“[Cease Scent].”

And her quickened thoughts came crashing down like a hundred imps smashing against each other as they flew – making her lurch forward and almost drop the baby, but the same hand that now patted her, already carried Celike’s daughter. Iaakis hadn’t felt him move.

“Uncle? What… what are you doing?”

There was fire on his hand. Iaakis looked around quickly, and the other child now rested in Trakia’s arms – a flame hovering above him as well. The [Bone Mender] lurched forward, clutching the rim of Orieke’s robes.

He shot her a look so sharp her hands turned soft. Iaakis gulped.

“Why are you doing this!? Stop!”

The [Perfumer] clicked his tongue. The flame he held grew brighter, coming from something Iaakis' eyes passed by without noticing.

“Get back to your senses, girl! Are you going blind, for Sun’s sake?”

“But you are –”

“If you say I’m burning them, Star forbid me, Iaakis – but I’ll slap you.”

It was a promise that made her hair stand on its end, spikes growing sharper. Immediately, the [Bone Mender] refocused her sight, taking a deep breath to allow the fear and her thumping heart to have some time to dial down. And what she saw, to much of her shame, were candles.

“...Aunt Biakis?”

“Correct. Now let me work. You know she only makes a few of these. Cursed expensive things.”

The man mumbled a complaint under his breath, but his work was careful as he lit the candle and made it hover above the baby. In the meantime, Iaakis relaxed. There would be no burning from those candles' heat.

Green wax, the color of life, melted down quickly as the droplets of the hot liquid fell on the naked babies – sinking into their skin and vanishing. A Life Candle, as they were called, was a precious and expensive thing to make – and the fact her Uncle was willing to spend two of them on the babies filled Iaakis with even more surprise.

Her mother only had one of those.

Soon enough, the effects showed themselves only a few seconds after the little girl left her mother’s womb, the second baby growing healthier and beginning to wail that blessed call.

A call that sounded like hope.

***

The [Priestess] of Kiringar nursed Celike’s baby with care. She hadn’t had children – in fact, she was the very last of her bloodline, since Aunt Vykaria chose to only call children those that shared not her lineage – so it was with double the awkwardness that Trakia dealt with the little imp in her arms, snoring away now that Orieke’s life candle left him both healthy and satisfied.

To many, she would look uncomfortable in the position she was in – and the Elder of Kiringar, truth be told, was. She was uncomfortable because the [Priestess] had not trained for this.

While other children played with dolls or prepared themselves for motherhood with other plays, she had been at home reading the scriptures. Scarlet Sun, she had only been fourteen when the previous [Priestess] deemed her ready to face the Hemoaestus and hear its liquid song. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she still woke up with a cold sweat as the sun whispered her name.

And it had only gotten worse as her levels increased. Oh, Trakia knew she was powerful – her God was here, after all. Present all the time. But his presence also demanded more of the worshippers – be it time, energy, focus, or any other sacrifice the Scarlet Sun deemed necessary – and there was no denying his Will.

How could someone say no to that which is [Pride] incarnate? No, she knew better than that. It was safer – and easier – to listen to his calls and attend to them as she could. Sometimes, they were even helpful.

Like when Nifestu fled Kiringar the first time, dismissing that which burned brightly in favor of lesser flames. The man had hated her in death, and every day since she caught him – but it was part of her job to do what the Star said. And it had demanded that his prodigious son returned.

The Sun whispered like that at times. Little tips from the things it saw from above. But it was silent for now – it had been silent ever since Guintaro fell ill. And regardless of how much she prayed, it refused to speak to her.

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It was watching. She knew it was. But at the same time, the Scarlet Star was playing another game she did not see – and, regardless of how much she wished to do it, the [Priestess] would not interfere.

It didn’t mean Trakia had to remain still, of course. And she hadn’t. Months had already gone by since Sybillus first struck – and although they still haven’t found a cure, the new factors could maybe present some hope. Little pieces that left to soon return – or that appeared out of nowhere.

Like the [Storyteller]. Or the [Death Doctor]. Or the [Abomination] that was ostracized from Kiringar’s safe walls to live far north, closer to where frost and water ruled. All possible solution-givers – for Trakia did not give much credit to the imps left here.

Still, she did her best. Waiting for the events to unfold – or for her God to speak once again.

Trakia focused back on the world around her as someone called for her name.

“Elder.”

“Iaakis.”

The [Priestess] looked at the rebel. The girl wore her hair in those horrendous spikes, a confrontation to the gospels that called all manners of head covers a sin. Trakia swallowed the complaint with some effort, willing to listen – especially after she saw the effort Linkri’s daughter had put in to save the little flames.

“I… heard Kurian has returned. Is it true?”

Trakia gave the [Bone Mender] a quizzical look, but then hissed in affirmation. She had forgotten how close the Nine Artisans were with each other – an ugly oversight.

“Indeed. He returned close to nightfall – wounded, but alive. He is asleep for now, at the temple.”

The girl fiddled with her knife, looking at her in the eyes while palming the blade.

“How did… how did he survive out there?”

And to that, the Elder pointed at the sleeping form of the [Death Doctor].

“He was the one to save Kurian, I believe.”

“What is his name?”

“Dominic. A creature from afar.”

Iaakis hissed in understanding. Her eyes softened as she looked at the weird, brown-skinned figure.

“You said he was at the temple, right? I’ll pay him a visit.”

“Now? You should rest, Iaakis. There is still work to be done tomorrow.”

“And I will. After I visit him.”

An edge of defiance rose on her words. Trakia truly believed the girl just couldn’t help herself. Still, the [Priestess] warned – picking her words carefully as she chose what to reveal.

“I put him under a [Sleep] spell, so you won’t find him awake until dawn. Still… it will be good for you to be there when he awakes. Try to give him some comfort, alright?”

“I will.”

Such resolution in her words. Trakia hissed once, understanding, and went back to nurse the baby boy. Quietly, she called for her [Solar Gaze] and watched as Iaakis’s and Merino’s flames left the tent – distance growing wider as the girl hurried to meet her younger cousin.

Their pride burned brightly, success turning dwindling flames into newly fueled bonfires. She gave a sigh of relief, audible and long.

“You are growing soft, old friend. Past were the times when you’d berate anyone defying you so openly.”

Orieke spoke from behind her, the old [Perfumer] nursing the little girl, second to be born. Trakia scoffed at his words.

“I can say the very same thing. Two Life Candles, Orieke? That was a lot even for you.”

“A small price for kin, Trakia. Not that you’d understand.”

The [Priestess] took a deep breath and eyed the man, focused on the sleeping baby in his arms – who was a lot quieter than her brother.

It was easy to doubt Orieke’s words when you only knew the surface of who he was, all pride and thorns. But the man put such great importance on the small family built out of the Grey House that he called all of the [Apprentices] his nephews and nieces – in the same way, all the other eight [Artisans] were his brothers and sisters.

“I’ll admit, I’m not the woman for it – but I’m also far from being as cold as you are at times, old friend. Do you not get tired of this facade of yours?”

She saw his eyes narrow, looking at her through his hairless brows. The [Perfumer]’s face was serious for just a moment before it reverted to its noble aloofness of usual.

“You speak as if a mask was not part of the whole, Trakia. Still too brazen, even after all this time. That’s why the others are beginning to doubt your promises, old friend.”

The sarcasm stung more when it came from him, and she couldn’t tell if it was her tenderness or his proficiency with words. Still, the [Priestess]’s face furrowed at his words.

“What do you mean, Orieke?”

“Nothing. Just that the other Elders are beginning to become tired of waiting. Word has it that they want to begin sending expeditions to the other villages. Maybe even go to the Succubi and beg for a [Healer] to come to check on the sick. Or the Sulphurborne.”

“They are… doubting?”

The [Perfumer] chuckled – and it was as sweet as rotten fruit.

“My dear… we both know it was bound to happen. You promised results – and have yet to deliver them in any way. Unless, of course, you consider these the optimal conditions.”

Orieke indicated the tent around them and Trakia gritted her teeth – a loud motion when you had tusks as long as an Imp’s – her face ugly when faced with such brazen criticism. Her eyes sparked red for a second, and the [Perfumer]’s smile only grew larger at the sight.

She took a deep breath before speaking.

“Why now?”

“Ha. The right question would be ‘Why not sooner?’. The Council has given you more leeway than most of us ever would. Especially after what you did to Nifestu.”

“It was a necessary sacrifice!”

Now she burst, eyes wide and burning like embers. Orieke expanded his presence in response – not backing away in the slightest.

“You can tell that to–”

A gasp sounded loud and clear, cutting his words. Both heads turned, presence diffusing in surprise as Dominic sucked in air like a drowning man. The [Death Doctor] coughed, a dry sound that made his chest convulse for a few moments before he raised his torso, and focused on Trakia.

His eyes shone sky gray, a flicker of light.

“...Her – leg. Check her leg.”

And as soon as the words escaped his lips, Dominic’s eyes rolled into his head – and the man fainted just as suddenly as he awoke.

A beat of silence endured before Orieke spoke.

“What… in the abyss?”

The [Perfumer] froze, but the [Priestess] soon moved – giving the baby in her arms for Orieke to hold – a feeling in her chest growing as the words from the [Death Doctor] sunk in. A piece almost clicking into place.

Trakia was quick to remove Celike’s covers and turn the corpse, eyes wide and hands trembling as that little feeling pulsed in her chest like a drum.

There. There it was. A mass of blackened growth, half surrounded by cracking white bone. A Nightmare Seed.

The [Priestess] smiled as her mind spun, a domino of understanding claiming her mind at the same time she burned the sickened tissue out of Celike’s calf – listening to it gurgle as the heat of the smoke and sizzling ash made the room smell of charred meat.

She rose, lips parted in a smile, and walked by Orieke’s still shaken form. She didn’t talk, but her countenance was victorious – and, worst of all to those that rose against her – hopeful.

***

Merino left the tent behind with heavy steps, the sound of the crying twins piercing through the nighttime and bringing new life to this place where only death ruled.

Their birth had been a bloody thing, Iaakis having to work with an edge unsuited to slice flesh – and even with the [Bone Mender] having skills of her own to deal with the gore and Merino's [Clean] spell, the [Apothecary] knew someone with a weaker heart would collapse at the scene. He had endured, thankfully, but the sight of someone's arms deep into another person was nightmarish.

It would remain in his mind for a while still. Still, the babies were safe, and even if what came after for them was a mystery, it seemed the Elders would deal with it in the best way they could. Merino was only thankful that his job here was done. He wasn’t the best with children.

Merino kept walking away from the camp, minding the traps he had been trained to see just like every other inhabitant of Kiringar, and soon enough he was turning at the corner of familiar streets – closer to the Temple of The Scarlet Star than he would have preferred, but his master had insisted on living close to her only remaining family, even if it meant residing in a smaller house with her [Apprentice].

Maybe it was time for him to move. There were… far more empty houses for him to choose from after the failed attempt to kill the Python, as gruesome as it sounded. But – Merino still had memories from the house he learned his craft in – from the lab his master built for him, insisting that he would only destroy her garden with his concoctions, to the kitchen where they ate their meals.

Every tiny space had its own memories, even if there were almost no walls to split the rooms.

In the end, Merino reached his door soon enough, taking a key that hung from his belt and unlocking it. The door swung inwards, only to reveal more of the same darkness brought by the night. He had been stalling to buy new vases with ikriats for illumination, but the thought of getting any closer to Guinnie’s atelier made him want to cry – so he had been trying to make do with the plants that grew on the sidewalks.

But those were natural. They lacked the magical expertise in their making to accentuate their properties – only giving the light they were supposed to give, instead of the more potent specimens Guinnie used to make alongside his master, able to illuminate entire houses on their own or feed dozens of people with a single gigantic bulb.

Still, they had been working for a while – and would have to continue to do so until Merino found the courage to face his grief. But, in the meanwhile, the young [Apothecary] shook his head and busied his mind with other thoughts.

He couldn’t sleep. Not yet, at least. Merino had to check on the ingredients for his conceptualized medicine, and the sight of Celike’s death only made him want to work even harder for it.

So, dragging his feet into his house and longingly eyeing the bed, Merino shook his head and went for the small kitchen in a corner of the building, heating some water with tired movements as the [Apothecary] injected some mana on the orange crystal beneath the ceramic pot. The tiny flame burned brightly, and so did his hands – but Merino ignored the waste of mana.

His master would have berated him for being so inefficient with his spells, and the memories sent shivers down his spine. Immediately, he straightened his spine and focused intently on his own manaways, narrowing the flow of the power until no light came from his claws – only pure power and intent.

Merino sweated, greatly, but endured. And when the water began to boil, he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe his master would compliment him for it – he always was the worst with control.

The realization struck a moment later, and Merino had to rub his eyes before the tears spilled. In grim silence, the imp took a vial from his bandoleer and dropped a few leaves into the boiling water, waiting for a few minutes until it seeped completely.

Thunder petals, much like ikriats, had a multitude of functions that only depended on how you used them. Merino, by himself, had learned to use them as an energy drink, transforming them into a tea that cleared the mind of all fatigue – at the expense of it striking back like a Nightmare after a few hours.

Still, if you kept on drinking it before the rebound effect struck, you could easily keep yourself awake for a couple of days. It wasn’t healthy in any way, as his own [Sense Ailment] skill would scream at his ears after a day, but it did work. You just had to ignore the pesky warnings.

Sipping on his drink and nursing the warm wooden cup, Merino went to his lab. It was the only room in his house that was divided by walls – not out of privacy, but because an [Apothecary]’s work sometimes required the handling of precious and volatile ingredients, much like an [Alchemist]’s. It had a singular window at the walls, round and always open, serving as both a way out for any fumes that ended up being produced and an escape way in case things went very, very wrong.

Merino had never used it like that. His products tended to be blander in both effect and inherent magic. But when the day came for him to maybe, just maybe, work on a cure for the Ashen Lungs, the imp couldn’t help but wonder if that day would be the time he’d use that window to flee.

He sighed, and let the thought fly away. It was not time for him to think about such things. Quietly, the [Apothecary] began his search.

First, with his bandoleer. Or rather, the [Bandoleer of Hundred Vials] as the Voice called it. It had been his reward for completing the [Path of The Apothecary], and it could keep as many bottles as he’d ever use – but also, do only that. It didn't make his remedies last for longer, or made them more effective or, even, safer for consumption.

It was just a way to house things in a tiny pocket dimension, as long as they were within a bottle. And more than once he had forgotten about an ingredient because it wasn’t at the front row of it.

Merino took the strap of leather from his shoulders, minding his horns so that it didn’t get tangled or ended up hitting one of the little ceramic and glass bottles, and – with it in hand – began to slowly pull on the bandoleer.

The item seemed like a normal creation. A circular strip of leather that fitted Merino perfectly. But with every bottle that went by his hand as he perused it, another appeared at the beginning of the strip – and what was inside was different.

It didn’t form a cycle. It broke such little rules and sent whatever bottle went out of his sight towards wherever they were kept – and in return, whenever he pulled on the bandoleer, a new one appeared on the row.

Merino began to pull and pull. He did take some other ingredients for later examination, having to check if they were as ice-aligned as his needs dictated, but by the time the first bottle he sent away appeared once again, Merino hadn’t found what he was looking for.

There were none of the Lindria's Tears.

The [Apothecary] sighed, and ran a hand down his bald head, feeling the small pinpricks of the hair that threatened to grow. He’d have to shave it tomorrow. For now, Merino left the [Bandoleer of Hundred Vials] on a table and began to search inside his other stores.

The safe was not made of metal, like many of its earthen counterparts, but a thick brown wood – imported directly from Sirilan, back when [Merchants] still came to Kiringar. The Incubus had claimed it was enchanted by a Sulphurborne, but the idea was as wild as to say the Sun loved them all. Still, Merino had traded for it after having a demonstration on the safety of the locks, and with a little more tweaking, he had ensured the safe would keep his ingredients safe and fresh.

A great win, considering he was no [Mage] – but the [Apothecary] knew how to make the best of the things he was given. And some of his skills did help, especially [Compile Botanical Properties].

So, when the door opened with a tiny pop, what drifted outwards was a small cloud of spores.

Merino looked inside. The mushrooms – gravefingers, to be exact – preserved the ingredients inside with as much efficacy as when he had first allowed them to grow on the wood. How odd was it that something filled with death magic could be so good at keeping things safe?

Well, Merino didn’t question it. The little conic mushrooms, usually found around graves – since the name – released the little gray spores constantly, and as long as the [Apothecary] cast a quick [Clean] spell over the ingredients, they would be ready to go.

Scouring through the ingredients was easy. Merino extended his hand slowly, using a small piece of cloth to move the more dangerous of the specimens away from his skin, and checked every single corner of that safe. And there was nothing to be found.

He was out of them. There were no Lindria’s Tears for him to even begin with his plan – and with the flowers being so needy about what it took to grow them, he knew that there would be none left in Guinnie’s atelier. Not after his death. So all he could do was tell someone to go and grab some – not that any sane Imp would do that with the Ashen Lungs going rampant.

Still, his job was not done. Swallowing his frustration, Merino sat at the stool he had and began to read his books and tomes, trying to find more ingredients to complete the recipe. Maybe, if he formed a plan that was solid enough, the Elders would see fit to send an expedition for the ingredients.

And so he worked, making list after list – striking ingredients off and putting more in, selecting specific parts of plants, and shaking his head at the requirements some demanded. Flowers were pesky, fragile things – but many times they were the most potent ingredients he could use mana-wise.

Merino kept at it for as long as he could, eventually falling asleep with a half-formed list of ingredients he’d have to check once he woke up and almost ready to go and see what were the procedures he’d use to make the medicine.

But he woke up before intended. There was… a voice in the air. Sultry and dreamy. Distinctly male, it was elegant in both tone and tempo – words enunciated with such individual care that it was as if they were precious gems, each and every one.

A voice that drifted into Kiringar and made children wake their parents in excitement. A voice that drifted inside homes and brought great hope within their hearts, alongside peace and calm. A voice that kept Nightmares and nightmares away.

Junkio, the [Storyteller], was back.

***

Dominic Jones awoke to the warm rays of the sun. The light, reddish at dawn and quick to dispel the lingering cold of the night air, entered through a window beside the bed he had been laying on – a comfortable piece of furniture, made of blackish wood and surrounded by walls of… stone?

The [Death Doctor] jerked for a second, the haze of a long sleep and the bone-deep tiredness he felt making it particularly hard to focus – though the fact the space was entirely unfamiliar helped.

Part of him wanted to chuckle at the fact he had, once again, been moved during his sleep. But he gave it a light tap and tried to show it how dangerous it was that he kept on not only fainting, but constantly ending up in places he very much did not belong to.

It was a dangerous precedent, and all parts of his mind agreed after a moment.

Internal diplomacy done, Dominic sat on the bed – moaning and grunting all the while as his sore muscles ached to heaven and back. It was soon after he found a better position to sit that the [Death Doctor] noticed the red exclamation point at the corner of his sight pulse like a heart.

And it was far more constant than it had ever been before.

“Uh, System? Is everything – Wowowowow!”

He tried to raise a hand to placate the blue screens, but much like an overly-excited dog who had finally been given attention, the Universal system took it upon itself to flood Dominic's sight with what he had been ignoring for so long.

Congratulations! Your Class [Death Doctor] is now Level 4!

Congratulations! Your Class [Death Doctor] is now Level 5!

Congratulations! You have obtained the [Aggravate Wounds] Skill!

Congratulations! You have obtained the [Sterilize] Spell!

Congratulations! You have unlocked the [Path of The Death Doctor]!

Warning! You can only have five active Paths. Claim your rewards to unlock the [Path of The Death Doctor].

It shoved the letters into his eyes, and Dominic tried to push his head away as he did with his phone when the letters got all blurred together, but the silly things followed every motion of his.

“Okay, calm down. Go back a little or I won’t be able to read them.”

The blue screens seemed to listen, and they popped out silently before reforming a little further away from his eyes. Dominic ignored the fact they had no actual physical presence to reform, as that would only bring a headache he was unwilling to feel right now.

“Alright, see? That’s good. Good job. Now, what is it that you have for me?”

And the screens appeared, one after the other. Dominic couldn’t help but smile a little as his mind conjured an odd comparison, but that fit nonetheless.

He felt like a kindergarten teacher, standing in front of a row of little students eager to show him a barely recognizable drawing.

The first prompt carried two messages.

Congratulations! Your Class [Death Doctor] is now Level 4!

Congratulations! Your Class [Death Doctor] is now Level 5!

New levels. He didn’t know what it meant exactly, especially after the last two he had gained – but now the [Death Doctor] knew much more about why he had gained these new levels.

Dominic still remembered Celike’s words. Every one of them.

And his Class feasted on it to grow. He had not saved a life or ended one, but the [Death Doctor] had assisted someone in their passing – and that counted.

The elderly human shook his head a little,m dismissing the thoughts, and waved for the next screen to come forward.

Congratulations! You have obtained the [Aggravate Wounds] Skill!

A new skill. Why now exactly, he didn’t know, but Dominic focused on the name of it for a second and watched another screen separate from the first. He read it in silence.

[Aggravate Wounds]

A hand deep into the pain that was already there.

The Skill had a heavier presence than the others. Not… in power – it actually felt more lackluster than the initial three – but it had a weight to it. A finality that was far more palpable due to its simplicity.

Dominic would bet it did exactly as its name said. He wasn't sure how it would work, but the [Death Doctor] was slowly getting the hang of things – and that name and description were convoluted but simple.

Congratulations! You have obtained the [Sterilize] Spell!

[Sterilize]

Eradicate the risks unseen.

An even easier-to-understand addition to his Grimoire. The simple name carried meaning that every human from Earth that had gone through a hospital at a certain point of their lives would remember – besides being a quite fitting spell for a [Doctor], regardless of what kind.

Although he wondered where exactly he would put the spell to use, considering he did not intend to perform any surgeries in the Tutorial. But then again… maybe he could use it on his food to avoid any of those supernatural diseases he feared might exist – it could even assist with the Ashen Lungs disease if it was really a virus.

Hm… thoughts for later.

Congratulations! You have unlocked the [Path of The Death Doctor]!

Warning! You can only have five active Paths. Claim your rewards to unlock the [Path of The Death Doctor].

So… that was new. He had gotten a new Path, which was nice, but Dominic did understand the limit on how many one could be completing at the same time was quite the bummer. Then again, it did indicate he had completed some of the Paths – and he knew just which ones they were.

Calling for the so-called rewards, a few new prompts appeared around the central one.

Congratulations! You have completed the [Path of The Ghost]!

[Reward: Item - Lesser Phylactery]

Claim reward?

Dominic extended a finger for the tiny ‘yes’ shining on the blue screen and watched as it disappeared, leaving in its place a small purple crystal that fell onto his lap, a little shorter than his index finger and shaped like a prism – a form more befitting of quartz than the amethyst it seemed to be.

Still, it did not sparkle magically or seem to float on the air like some of the things he had already seen. It was, despite its odd name, just a crystal in his hands. Pretty – but until he found someone to better explain what it was, he’d just have to pocket it for later.

Nevertheless, Dominic turned to the second Path he had completed.

Congratulations! You have completed the [Path of The Novice]!

[Reward: Spell - Appraisal]

Claim reward?

Once again, the [Death Doctor] pressed on the agreement – and this time nothing else happened. He stood confused, for a moment, before deciding to call for his Status to confirm what had happened.

Welcome to The Universal System.

Dominic Jones, Son of Theodor Jones.

May you develop successfully.

Status

Name

Dominic Emilio Jones

Titles

Tutorial Participant

Race

Ghost

Type

Undead

Primary Class

[Death Doctor] - Level 5

Secondary Class

LOCKED

Tertiary Class

LOCKED

Skills

[Tool: Spectral Scalpel], [Undying Heart], [A Final Conversation], [Aggravate Wounds]

Grimoire

[Spare the Dying], [False Life], [Sterilize], [Appraisal]

Paths

Path of The Elder (1/3)

Path of The Manager (1/5)

Path of The Death Doctor (0/3)

Path of The Tutorial (0/3)

—

There it was. And Dominic had to admit, once again, that it felt good to see his growth so clearly. A new skill, two new spells and another two Paths fully completed – with rewards that were quite amazing for the newly integrated mind of an earthling like him.

All he had to do now was find a way to achieve a new Path to complete the limit. That emptiness at the bottom bothered him greatly, a sensation of time lost coming with that strict line at the bottom.

Later, though. For now, he called for the new Path.

Path of The Death Doctor

Ignite the Fervor of Life (0/1)

Push a Soul From The Final Edge (0/1)

Deny The Reaper’s Due (0/1)

These tasks… were not as easy to understand as the others. What exactly was ‘Ignite the Fervor of Life’ supposed to mean? Would he have to convince someone to fight until the end? To not give up? To not die?

And that second task… Dominic read it once – then a second time, followed by a third – and every single time he did so a shiver went down his aching spine. He knew what it meant to ‘Push a Soul From The Final Edge’. Lord Almighty, he had just been there in a way when he spoke to Celike.

But to push someone from it could only mean one thing. And he dreaded it because he should have seen it coming when the [Death Doctor] first read his class’s description.

The understanding was there, at the tip of his tongue – viscous and choking, words he refused to admit still, but that was clear for him to see. The Path required it, and he was unwilling to give.

Dominic was unwilling to kill someone.

The front door opened, wood swinging on metallic hinges that creaked loudly. From outside, came a figure that took Dominic out of his sudden stupor – making that dreadful morning light shine a hundred times brighter inside the house.

Orieke, [Perfumer] of Kiringar, stood there – and there were two babies in his arms.

“Well. You sure took your sweet time, haven’t you?”