Chapter 9 - Worsening Symptoms

With a stretch of imagination, Dominic Jones could pretend he was somewhere else when he saw the billowing rivulets of smoke that curled over his feet like dawn mist. The smell of incense was stronger closer to the main flap – which directly connected to that small central area all four of the tents seemed to share – and it was in that direction that he walked.

After his talk with Merino the [Apothecary], in a secluded area in the back of the large tent he was in, Dominic had understood what the Imp had implied when he said the smoke would guide him towards Trakia.

There were shapes in the smoke. They were fleeting – small specters that appeared and disappeared as soon as they finished passing their message, which was to just point towards a specific direction. Perhaps, if Trakia had been born on Earth, she would have used arrows instead of such complicated constructs – but this worked fine as well.

If he ignored that, Dominic really felt the tent was familiar somehow. Perhaps it was the memory of Martha that did it, bringing forth old connections he had previously ignored when first seeing the Imps’ medical camp and the large brazier constantly spreading whatever Spell or Skill it was that Trakia seemed to be using in the area.

Or, maybe, it was just that impressive tea Merino had poured for him – serving as an almost magical energy drink and eliminating the fog of exhaustion that had been steadily growing ever since he woke up in this strange land. Dominic was unsure of how long the effects would last, but they did seem to be worth it even if they ended up being short-lived.

Nevertheless, as Dominic Jones approached Trakia’s location, guided by fleeting specters and their pointing claws, he remembered another time.

Once upon a time, when he had found out his condition and fled his home in search of a cure medicine seemed incapable of giving him, he had ended up in Thailand in search of a miracle within the halls of one of their Buddhist temples.

He remembered the sight of the giant Buddha, sitting in a lotus position in a shrine high on top of a mountain, the only access being a long trail that slithered northeast through the ample vegetation.

It was a small temple, secluded and private – tended only by a trio of old monks that seemed fairly resigned to their station even in their silence – but beautiful nonetheless. There, he had prayed to whatever it was that lorded over those lands and people, begging for a spot under its mercy as Dominic bowed low to the floor.

And there it was, the connecting detail. The burning incense sticks left a heavy smoke that plummeted to the ground instead of performing the path physics dictated – ascending towards the sky. Instead, the light gray smoke curled around his feet almost tenderly, diverting around his limbs as if he were a stone cutting a river’s flow.

It had been a turning point in his life – not a good one, some of his friends would say, but one that had ignited his obsession with a cure others thought impossible. A defiance against his own biology that began there, on top of a mountain, with only a statue as a witness.

It was to that day that his mind took him as he walked through the narrow corridors that were between the patient areas. A day when he had found mystical signs in what many would seek a proper, boring explanation. A moment that changed his way of seeing things.

And for some reason, with every step he took toward his destination, Dominic felt the same sensation in his chest.

***

Dominic’s walk ended close to the entrance he and Trakia had used, the sliced cloth that served as a door showing a hazy world as the brazier’s smoke drifted in by following a path only it and Trakia knew. With one last specter pointing to the correct space, the [Death Doctor] entered one of the rooms – the rustling of the cloth walls serving as his herald and bringing Trakia’s attention to him.

Trakia’s and… someone else’s. Dominic couldn’t help but look at the girl standing beside the Elder, her patient countenance an odd contrast to the [Priestess]’s furrowed brows.

“Star above, you sure took your sweet time, Dominic. Come closer.”

Dominic gave her a small smile, containing the sigh that threatened to spill between his teeth with only the sheer force of his will. The woman beside Trakia, looking far younger than the stressed-out Elder, gave him a small smile in a greeting – but kept to her silence as she maintained her focus on something Dominic could not see.

Just a couple of steps later and Dominic, towering over Imps even with his slight hunch, could see what it was that had led Trakia to call for him with such an emergency. There, past the [Priestess] and being showered by some kind of orange-ish light that seemed to emanate from the younger Imp’s hands, was a pregnant woman.

The first Dominic had seen. Belly extended towards the ceiling, the female Imp slept with only a small piece of cloth to cover her private parts, her raspy breath sounding pained even through the magical incense Trakia used on those inflicted with Ashen Lungs.

Her navel was pushed outwards by the extended womb, stretch marks making their way to the bottom of her belly like lightning bolts – a shade of darker pink than the woman’s skin. It would be a gripping sight even among humans, the size the womb grew to accommodate the fetus being so large it immediately caused Dominic to doubt the possibility of a body stretching itself so much – or at least being designed for such purposes.

The [Death Doctor] moved his sight a little forward, reluctantly abandoning the disproportionate stomach of the woman, and met the same signs he had seen on the other patients here in the medical camp. The Imp’s snout was dark and burnt, a swollen red and black that shone a little with every pained inhale and exhale.

Dominic ignored the way a piece of her face flaked away like ash, turning to Trakia to keep himself distracted from what was happening to the Imp’s body. Even after seeing other patients with the same symptoms, the [Death Doctor] still fought the urge to vomit at the sight of it all.

“Who is she?”

His voice didn’t waver like the first time, but it did sound a lot tenser even to his own ears. The [Priestess] shot him a look, but didn’t comment.

“Her name is Celike. She is one of Vriako’s apprentices. A [Cobbler].”

“I assume Vriako is one of those Nine Artisans you told me about?”

The [Priestess] hissed once.

“Correct. Celike had been away from the Grey House due to her pregnancy, but other apprentices had been visiting her every day – especially after her partner passed away.”

A short silence followed the statement, and Dominic had been about to fill it with whatever platitude his mind could conjure just to keep the sound of that pained inhale away when Trakia’s silent assistant diverted his attention as she whispered under her breath what sounded like a small prayer.

“--Worthy was his blood.”

The [Priestess] turned to the girl but didn’t berate her even after hearing what she said. Instead, Trakia sighed and waved a clawed hand at her in a silent order to continue with her work. The elderly woman turned to Dominic with tired eyes.

“They found her a few hours ago. Unfortunately, it seems those that found her left some important details when asked about her condition. Can you tell what it is?”

Dominic eyed her with confusion for a second but nodded in confirmation. He was no true doctor, but maybe his Class could tell him something. Or his Racial Affinities, perhaps? It seemed to be worth a try, especially with Trakia hinting something was different with this case when compared to the others.

The [Priestess] kept her eyes on him as he kneeled beside the Celike – stretched on the floor like all the other patients – and positioned himself on the opposite side to the other Imp that still maintained her arcane powers working, even if now there was a thin sheen of sweat on her brows.

In silence, the [Death Doctor] tried to combine what little information on biology and medicine he knew with his memories of when he possessed Kurian. It was… difficult to look at Celike’s face, but Dominic fought against the rising nausea with enough success that he managed to try and touch the side of her neck, index and middle finger extended outwards as they did in the movies.

It took him a few moments to find the proper artery, having to constantly pull his fingers away before the high heat on her skin could burn him, but the memory of manually handling the biological processes of an Imp did seem to leave enough of an impression. There, on the right side and a little below the mandible, he felt the weak pulse of the woman’s beating hearts.

And… Now what? Dominic froze at the thought and turned his face away for a moment, hiding the small dose of embarrassment that rose in his chest as he confronted the fact he didn’t know anything about what to do. Should he try and use one of his Spells? But… something told him none of them would work in giving him a diagnosis.

Nor would his Skills. So… what was left? To try and possess the woman?

The idea came suddenly, and now that he had a clear enough mind to think about things, Dominic saw how useful his racial ability could be to try and see what was going on with the patients. Lord Almighty, he really had been way too tired to deal with this.

“Anything yet?”

Trakia’s voice pulled him from his own thoughts, the [Priestess] looking at him with crossed arms and now joined by her assistant – that seemed to be either done with her work or too spent to continue if the pale look on her face was any indicator.

Dominic pushed his sudden idea away, thinking of doing it later and in more secluded conditions, before admitting what Trakia seemed to already know.

“Nothing. I… don’t know what’s wrong with her besides the usual. Should there be something noticeable?”

The [Priestess] uncrossed her arms with a sigh, raising a hand to massage her temples. When she opened her eyes again there was a strong resignation in them. It was enough to make Dominic grimace.

“Tell me, how long do you think she has been sick?”

Turning back to the woman in an attempt to ignore the faint heat on his cheeks, Dominic looked again at Celike, trying to find something that would indicate the stage of her condition.

The [Cobbler] had the same burnt snout as the more severe cases, a detail that indicated an advanced stage alongside the need to maintain her in a comatose state due to the pain. Still, Celike was not gaunt like the first victim Dominic had seen – nor had she developed the nasty sunburn-like scoriations found on the other more serious patients.

Reaching a little closer to the sleeping body, Dominic struggled to decide if he should repeat a procedure he had seen another volunteer make, but fought through his reluctance in search of a more certain answer.

Holding the sides of her jaw, the elderly man slowly moved his sight to try and see the back of Celike’s throat – noticing the faint grimace on the assistant’s face as Dominic met nothing but darkness in her aerial ways, instead of the blazing reds and oranges he feared to see.

With these details in mind, alongside the small tidbits of knowledge, he had accumulated by talking with the other volunteers like Merino, the [Death Doctor] had a fairly certain guess. With a palm rubbing the metallic top of his cane, Dominic turned towards Trakia.

“I’d say a week, maybe a week and a half since the first symptoms. She doesn’t have some of the signs of prolonged sleep, nor does she have more advanced symptoms.”

The assistant hissed softly once under her breath, a single sound that Dominic had learned to read as an agreement. Trakia’s face, however, didn’t change. Instead, the [Priestess] hissed softly.

Twice.

“If it were any other patient, I’d agree. But the other apprentices that found her said she had been fine, Dominic. And the last time they saw her was yesterday.”

Yesterday? That meant she had gotten worse in just a–

The gasp on his right took his attention, the assistant raising a clawed hand to cover her mouth in embarrassment when she noticed it, before deciding to speak for herself.

“That’s impossible, Elder. She… she would still be conscious if that was so!”

Trakia raised a placating hand, and Dominic began to understand just how large the problem was.

“She is right, Trakia. The disease isn’t supposed to work this fast, is it?”

“No, it isn’t. Something had changed – and I was hoping you could maybe tell me what it was. Your Class is a [Healer]-adjacent one, isn’t it?”

Dominic nodded. [Death Doctor] did seem to be connected to a more supporting role – even if the first half indicated a far more bellicose approach than he enjoyed.

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Still, none of his Skills or Spells worked for a diagnosis. But… Dominic looked at Celike’s sleeping form once more, trying to grasp for a possible explanation that he felt close to his reach – a hypothesis that needed him to change his perception.

Change the picture. He thought to himself and tried to exercise his own will, picking a detail and detangling it like a woven tapestry.

This is not a deadly disease. But the flu, perfectly explainable and affecting a pregnant woman with a lot more intensity. Why, though?

The [Death Doctor] had his eyes closed as he thought, concentrated on finding any idea that could perhaps explain this new development. Dominic kept to his silence for a moment, focused intently on the artificial change of his thoughts, until something clicked.

Because she is pregnant. Because there is another inside her. There it was – a memory that could explain this. He had seen this before, back when Melissa had still been pregnant with Jules. Oh yes, his friend had suffered through stronger diseases, hadn’t she?

A weakened immune system, Richard had told him. Something about the body struggling to keep both mother and baby safe, perhaps?

Dominic opened his eyes, the possible explanation ready on his tongue. His eyes fixed on Celike’s face and his excitement waned a little, turning sour, but he managed to present his idea.

“Is it possible that it’s the pregnancy? Pregnant women tend to be more… delicate when it comes to disease. Maybe it expedited the process?”

Dominic spoke while continuously rubbing the top of his cane, the familiar motion working soothingly. Still, when Trakia hissed twice once more he did feel even more disheartened.

“She is not the only one. Three others have begun to show signs of an accelerated disease, you see?”

“Where are they, Elder? Their families… they would have no time to make the preparations.”

Trakia turned to the young woman beside Dominic, sighing with enough strength that her shoulders sank.

“I’ve put Erieva on it after hearing about this, but I’m sure you can help her if you wish, Kayra. In fact… you should go – you’ll be of no use sitting here all mana-empty. Go help her and then sleep – there will be more to do tomorrow.”

The assistant, Kayra, pressed on her top lip in what seemed like a pout, but did hiss softly in agreement before getting up and leaving both Trakia and Dominic. The [Death Doctor] waved her goodbye, but Kayra did not answer back.

Still, it felt opportune to ask what he had been holding on to ever since he saw her for the first time.

“Who is she, Trakia? A [Healer]?”

“Who? Kayra? No. She is an [Acolyte]. I’ve asked both her and Erieva to help maintain the Spells and assist the [Healers] in what they can. But… It has been some tiresome months for all of us.”

Dominic nodded.

“I can see that. Still, this sudden change in the disease… Do you have any ideas?”

“None. We don’t have records of it happening this fast, Dominic. It was supposed to take weeks for someone to reach this stage, you see? And the fact this is happening right now… the other Elders are beginning to demand solutions.”

The [Death Doctor] looked at the Celike. The sound of her pained breath hurt him to hear. This type of finality was not something he enjoyed watching from so close by, and it sent shivers down her spine.

Dominic focused back on the conversation, a little more strength on the grip around his cane.

“Who else knows about this?”

“Only us, the Elders and the Artisans. I sent word to them as soon as I knew of this. Why?”

Dominic thought a little more, trying to devise a plan based on what he knew of epidemiology – which came entirely from movies and those diseases that came and went with time. Still, he was fairly certain the procedures of doctors and scientists of Earth were more advanced than the ones he had seen here in Kiringar.

In the meantime, he responded with another question while his mind worked.

“Not Iaakis? I heard she is a [Healer].”

“You heard – who told you that?”

“Merino. He is an [Apothecary], I believe. A very polite young man, Trakia.”

“Humph. Yes, yes. Far too easygoing, however… Still, that – is a good idea. I’ll ask someone to send word for the other tents. Maybe some of their patients will develop Ashen Lungs as well.”

Dominic listened intently, agreeing with a nod at the idea. And his mind had already finished architecting his next steps.

“We also need to do more. There are procedures we can implement to better understand what is going on with these patients.”

“And what is that? Ashen Lungs has been fairly random in my opinion.”

The [Death Doctor] fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Right, right. But no disease is truly random. There are… ways of figuring out what is going on – but first, we need to discover two things. What is it that connects these four patients with a faster disease and why did it change.”

Trakia narrowed her eyes. Dominic was, if he was being honest, clutching at a lot of scattered thoughts here. A collage of scarce knowledge built by an amateur – but that should still work all things considered.

“We need to know what is it that these people have been doing the past few days. You said Cerike was fine yesterday? Then I think it’s safe to say that whatever happened did so in that time frame.”

“I see. The others have also gotten worse in the past day. But still, that wouldn’t tell us why the Ashen Lungs changed.”

“Yes… that’s why I’m thinking of going out to investigate. Merino told me that the Ashen Lungs don’t affect other races, so I’m fairly safe, and you need to stay here and take care of the patients, right?”

The [Priestess] hissed softly.

“And where are you thinking of going?”

“Honestly? Their houses. Well, at least Cerike’s. If she really spent all the time inside then there should be some kind of clue on why it happened. I’ll try to visit the others as well and ask around about them.”

“And you plan on doing it… tonight?”

The [Death Doctor] turned to Trakia with an inquisitive look.

“Obviously. We are rushing against time after all.”

The [Priestess]’s eyes narrowed – and yet, there was a faint reluctance in her face, but Dominic could almost see it burn away a moment later.

“No.”

Dominic froze, and his eyes narrowed at Trakia and the finality in her voice. It… wasn’t an order, was it?

“No? I don’t understand.”

“It’s pretty clear. You are not going to leave to search for this right now.”

The [Death Doctor] rose to his feet, putting his cane down to lean on.

“Now, pray tell, why I’m not going to do that when we have four different people currently fighting for their life and this could help them?”

Trakia did not back down. The [Priestess]’s eyes burned for a second in a warning.

“Because they won’t die if you go and rest, Dominic. Or do you think Merino’s little tea will keep you awake for all of that and more?”

The [Death Doctor] looked at her, and it clicked.

“You expect me to comply, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And if I don’t? If I believe care at my own expense is virtuous, instead of sacrificial?”

The [Priestess] showed him fangs and tusks that sent shivers down his spine. It wasn’t deranged, or evil, just… a kind of stubbornness he saw in those that had everything. The look of someone that could see nothing but a path.

Had he been wrong about her?

“Then I will make you. I have no time to waste on someone that chooses to burn brightly for a second instead of bringing warmth for all winter.”

Worst of all, Dominic could understand where it came from. God, he could even empathize with the feeling. If he had been from a small community where the bonds made played an important part in daily life as here in Kiringar, it wouldn’t surprise him that actions like his – of spending his energy for a short period instead of assisting for a long time – could very well even be considered selfish.

But the way Trakia was willing to enforce it made him want to rebuke the idea entirely. Was this how his world would work? With those with a larger power deciding the only way to proceed with things was their own way?

No. The world was already like that in a way. But now, with all those individuals rising to power, would they act like utter tyrants? Who could stop someone with such power?

Wasn’t that what Dominic feared the most when he realized the extent of the System's given powers? The [Death Doctor] had feared for Earth – and still felt the discomfort of knowing many would arise against any type of virtue as the heady feeling of growth settled in with every level – but he failed to realize something.

Imps were not so different. And even though he had been treating them as familiarly as he could, Dominic had expected them to settle into some kind of order with these Skills and Spells turning one so powerful.

No, that’s not right, is it? He expected them to act as Humans would before the System – to give a voice and a place for even the less fortunate of them, small as it was – but that wasn’t what Trakia’s actions showed him. No, she would comply with others until they disagreed – and then, the [Priestess] was willing to do what it took to maintain her path.

A Small Tyrant. That’s what she was, wasn’t she? So similar to those little entrepreneurs that only saw worth in their own way, heads filled with the power granted by their position.

It was in the utter silence that ensued that Dominic felt a change in the picture he had formed.

He could see it now. A shift in his mental assumptions of who she was.

An [Acolyte], raised to harbor the power of a God that hated all.

A girl, absorbing the lesson of pride and the all-mighty flames, boosted by the easiness of life that came with every Skill and Level.

A [Priestess], shaping a community and making herself essential, dizzy by the feeling that came every time one of her ideas came to fruition.

An Elder, finding authority in the mantle of age and –

–Silence? The [Death Doctor] froze. Slowly, as the shifting story unfurled itself as Dominic stopped weaving, he turned his body.

There. The silence continued, and Dominic’s eyes widened at the realization that there was no longer the sound of hissing hot air traveling through an afflicted nose, or the raspy breath of tortured lungs burning inside out.

He could hear Trakia asking him something. He could even feel the heat in the air, emanating from her skin like a tidal wave as she realized the same thing as him.

Celike wasn’t breathing.

***

Somewhere else inside the medical tent, unaware of the troubling evolution of the disease and its consequences, another spent time rethinking ideas that were not his own.

Merino had not left the place where he had chatted with Dominic yet. Not because he had nothing else to do – there were patients still coming in or getting worse every hour, and Merino still had more than a few remedies to test on them – but… something about the ideas the old ryuman had presented to him was hard to let go.

It didn’t feel like the foolish creativity of someone that knew nothing of his Class. Dominic didn’t come at him with the wild ideas of someone that knew only half of what an [Apothecary] could do, completing the rest with their imagination and magic.

No. The man had spoken as if he had known many of Merino’s kind – other minds that dwelled on how to turn an ailing body into a vessel of health once again. Didn’t he talk about knowing cures that used no mana?

What a weird idea. Merino knew his late master would have a fit if he even came close to thinking such a thing. The woman had been more [Witch] than [Botanist] by the end of her life, and she had had the temper to match – so being called a stupid brat would be the only outcome if he dwelled on the topic.

And yet, the man spoke with conviction – as if he had been there to see medicine evolve with little magic, carried on by the natural properties of a plant. As if he had met others capable of achieving such a thing.

Oh, Guinnie would have loved the idea, wouldn’t he?

The [Florist] had always told him that all answers laid on the Ground – an idea that oftentimes sounded almost blasphemous, but the Artisans did have much more leeway than the common citizen, and the youngest of them had always been far more of a rebel than the others.

Merino smiled sadly at the memory, taking off his goggles for a moment to wipe at his eyes with the sleeves of his tunic. The [Apothecary] put the contraption back on, watching as the world turned back into focus, and reigned in his stray thoughts. He will visit his grave tomorrow.

A Skill burned within him, brought forth by a silent call that came after taking a deep breath.

[Focused Mind]. A Skill for a once [Apprentice], someone that worked with the confusing knowledge derived from plants and the half-explained processes within pages of books.

Merino’s eyes turned distant as he imparted the Skill’s effects on his mind, bringing clarity and smoothness to his thoughts that made him relax his wings. It was easier to think with the Skill activated, fatigue and drowsiness cast aside by the Voice’s gifted reward.

Nevertheless, Merino prompted the main question to the forefront of his mind. How would Dominic’s idea work?

To the Imp, the [Death Doctor]’s thoughts could be divided into two statements.

1. It would be easier to treat particular symptoms of the Ashen Lungs instead of the entire disease.

2. The process of making these medicines should not use any magic, to avoid possible intoxication.

So, he began from the top. Would it be easier to treat only a few symptoms? The answer should be yes. A few of the symptoms already had well-known medicines for, such as the fever or the early-stages stuffy nose – and, in hindsight, it had been stupid of his part not to administer these remedies to the patients.

He had been blinded by his search for a complete, instantaneous cure. A panacea that would dispel the disease with a gulp – but that had been an unfruitful avenue that only left him feeling more anxious and lost, frustrated by his lack of advancement.

When was the last time he had even used the Skill? That he had stopped to think about what he was doing instead of mixing his dwindling storage of ingredients in the search for answers? Failing to imitate a Master that had been 30+ levels above him?

Blessed Sun, how stupid he had been. Merino grimaced at all the time lost in his research, when he could have simply stopped and thought instead of dragging his battered mind day after day in search of a miraculous remedy.

But then again, all that time wouldn’t return. And those were not the questions Merino had activated [Focused Mind] to dwell upon, so the [Apothecary] soon felt his thoughts shy away from the unfruitful topic.

Feelings had no place in the rational regime that his brain had become

Once more, Merino stretched his thoughts. The initial symptoms of the Ashen Lungs were fairly harmless. Oh, the fever could kill if it rose high enough, but rarely did it do so before your lungs burned – so, if Merino were to choose a symptom to focus on, he should go for the truly deadly ones.

And, after months of tending to the sick, he knew that there were two main ways the afflicted died. Either their aerial ways burned, turning ember hot and transforming their faces and throats into ash – or their body became unable to deal with the growing temperatures, organs burning as the lungs became sources of heat.

Two horrifying ways to die – but that were connected by a single principle: heat. And what could better defeat heat than cold?

An opposite affinity. But the idea was not new. The medicines of his own making already followed such principles of balance, respectful to the teachings of his Master, but… it still hadn’t worked.

Merino paused, thoughts running wild. It clicked soon, after he took a mental step back to evaluate what he knew. If the problem Dominic had warned him of was due to the broad effects he had been hoping for the medicine, then he should also transfer that idea to the new recipes.

No longer would he use ingredients that were mana neutral or complimentary. No more water as a solvent or any bonding agent that was not touched by winter itself. He would search and evaluate, run proper trials that wouldn’t cause his late master to have a fit of nerves, and beat his ass with a ladle.

Merino would attempt again, this time by using only ingredients from which he could extract the property of frost in opposition to the Ashen Lungs.

He would try again. But this time… this time at his own house. If anything, the [Focused Mind] Skill was going to leave him exhausted – and now that he had a new hypothesis, the [Apothecary] would also have to check on his stash of ice-related ingredients, especially Lindria’s Tears.

Scorching sun, Merino prayed he still had some. With the merchants utterly avoiding Kiringar, he had no way of acquiring the precious flowers – and few were the people strong enough to go north towards the Endless Falls.

Later, later. He would send a missive to the Council if it turned out he was out of Lindria’s Tears – for now, he would return home and… well, not sleep, but check on his Master’s books for any ways of making the medicine with none of the usual magic involved.

Merino stopped, the last dregs of his Skill burning out as he fell upon the ramifications of the original question once more. Should he even look at that idea?

Dominic had stated that his kind found solutions with no magic, and even if Merino was more than curious about the exact how to do such a thing, the concept felt not only foreign – but also impossible.

How would he even do anything without magic? And he wasn’t talking about active, Voice-given Spells – but the innate qualities of his ingredients, his tools, the very atmospheric magic… how could the ryumans do it?

And was it worth it? Merino adjusted his goggles, thinking of an answer. The worth of looking for such solutions lay in the possible outcomes of it all – and what was the worth of a magically neutral medicine, when he was trying to use the natural magic of the ingredients to counter the Ashen Lungs?

No, this was the wrong time to think about such things. If he had been trying to counter some kind of Sulphurborne, a titan of old that turned all he touched into fiery versions of themselves, then the [Apothecary] could see the worth in sucking the magic out of things.

But right now? No, it was not the time to look into such a solution. Maybe later, after he solved the current crisis that ate at his sleeping hours and the very foundations of Kiringar.

Merino needed magic to fill in the gaps his knowledge would be unable to complete – and, if he was going to tackle an ancient blight of his people, the level 17 [Apothecary of Herbal Remedies] would need all the mana he could get.