BleedingTears
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Arcanist - Chapter 49
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 06:22:40 +0000 UTCCaptain Edric, much to his credit, allowed Valens to check the other patients suffering from the sickness down in the church’s basement. A dozen of them, as Harlow said, creeping ever so slowly to the death’s door, smarting from a number of blisters and bloody holes, bodies seemed to be intent on devouring themselves as though in a race. Each had the same strange rhythm interfering with their unique Resonances, the source of which Valens couldn’t trail when he tried to peek into their chest cavity.
The Priests tending to them, a good-natured Father Harmon with a shining pate, and his disciple whose name was Simeon, offered similar observations about the sickness that the only way to prevent it from spreading to the whole body was to keep constant care, which was, in their case, not entirely possible with a dozen men in hand, and another dozen whose legs would be chopped off tomorrow.
Valens could understand the root of their reasoning even though he didn’t appreciate the way they treated him. Not only did they see him as a stranger, they acted as if he had an insidious quality to him, a sort of lingering filth that would splatter over their sinless bodies through the simple act of breathing. They didn’t curse at him, nor did they draw swords and try to hack at him to cleanse his abhorrent existence, but they did seem relieved when Captain Edric escorted him outside.
Before he left, though, Valens did mention to both clergymen that their limb-chopping practice wouldn’t bring the wanted results. When a man’s own body had turned against itself, relieving him of his legs would only accelerate the inevitable.
“For all the glamor and righteousness of your order, Captain, your Priests never fail to amuse me with their deeply inept practices. I couldn’t help but wonder if this is the real reason why you banished the Healers from the Kingdom. To hide the truth of it,” Valens said as they trudged off toward the inn, with Garran keeping a close ear to their conversation from behind them. Mas and that towering guy, Dain, was nowhere to be seen.
“They’re doing the best they can,” Captain Edric didn’t seem to care for Valens’s biting remark as he breathed in a long, deep breath. “But this one is beyond their abilities.”
“So you do have an inkling of an idea as to what’s behind this sickness,” Valens said with an arched eyebrow.
“I have a theory,” Captain Edric said, then gave him a look. “But I’m curious to hear from you on this matter. Surely you’ve seen cases like these before, considering you’re on the brink of your Trial?”
“I’m afraid not,” Valens said simply. “But if I am to offer an opinion, I would say this matter is likely tied to an occult practice. Perhaps a spell that can afflict the core of a man with dark intentions, one that seems to be close to curses in nature. Or it could’ve emerged from the system itself. Pity that my knowledge in those fields is painfully limited.”
“The system doesn’t have the habit of cursing people,” Garran said.
“Indeed,” Captain Edric muttered. “But I don’t think what we’re dealing with here is a deliberate attack against the Brackley mines. I believe they were caught in an unfortunate coincidence.”
Sounds like another cult. I wonder if those evil classes Garran mentioned could be behind this case.
Valens tapped a finger to his chin as a heavy silence settled between them. He hadn’t felt so ignorant for a long time, like a child who until recently was living with his parents in a little town, and just came out to the wide world. He hated being in the dark.
And what was my Trial again? She’s sleeping under the crimson waves, is it?
That sounded much like occult to him, now he thought about it. He had to learn more. To dig deeper if he wanted to get close to the truth behind this system.
“I want in, Captain,” he broke the silence. The captain and Garran snapped suddenly at him, but Valens wasn’t done. “I have no intention to interfere with your work here, but for the good of people, and the Codes to which I abide, I shall come with you. Not to mention you might need a Healer in that tunnel.”
“Bold,” Garran chuckled. “Bold for the prize.”
“And what makes you think I’d bring a strange Healer with my team when I have not the slightest of an idea as to who he really is?” Captain Edric seemed almost amused. Almost, but not quite. “And didn’t you say you’re planning to fix Selin’s memories?”
“That can wait,” Valens said confidently. “Missing a day or two wouldn’t be a problem as her treatment can last for months. In any case, it’s best to take things slow.”
“We can use some fire in the mines, Captain,” Garran suggested with a grin on his lips. “You can leash Mas to the inn to make sure the woman stays there. Not like that dog would be a better use in the mines.”
“If you’re that suspicious of me, Captain, then I’d say the sensible thing to do is to keep me close at all times,” Valens pressed now that he had Garran on his back. “After all, you can’t be sure a single Templar could stop me from bolting out in the night. You might have leverage against Celme and Marcus, and use their ties to the guild to make life a living hell for them in Melton, but as far as you know, I'm nobody in this kingdom.”
“You can’t catch a nobody,” Garran’s grin spread wide to his lips.
“Wipe that stupid grin out of your face,” Captain Edric reprimanded. “Or I’ll have you strapped round to the Wraithspike with the Healer to keep you company. That’d be a sure way of doing this.”
“You’ve seen how he dealt with the Wailborn,” Garran said, this time with a more serious look on his face. “I don’t know what an Arcane Healer is, but it seems to be that he has some quality that he shares with the Hexmenders. You know he could be useful in the future. You hate knocking on Lenora’s door just as I do.”
“Enough.” Captain Edric swept them with a fierce gaze, then gave a look at Valens. “I’ll think about it. For now, I need you two out of my sight. Get back to your rooms, and be ready at the first light.”
“Both of us?” Valens perked up. “Didn’t you just say you’d think about it? What’s on your mind, Captain?”
“Uh… You just have to say that, don’t you?” Garran shook his head at him.
“What?” Valens asked.
“Off with you now,” Edric’s scowl deepened. “Before I change my mind.”
…….
The Lifesurge threads seeped slowly through the rib bones, down the veins worming across his chest, into the heart as Valens kept the Lifeward active. For all the bumpy journey from the Rift to Brackley, and the troubles that came with it, sleep evaded his best efforts, so he decided he might as well check his own body to see if there were any answers waiting for him.
His mana pool was strong. A gurgling river sloshing right over his chest cavity, close to his heart, sitting well in a fleshy cage, waiting for an indication of a will to pour forth into the spell formulae. He could feel the Inferno’s raging intent, Gale's soothing existence, and Fireball's violently charged fury.
Each one was clear in the Resonance, and Valens was becoming more and more sure that they had been engraved into his chest cavity in a way that turned them into parts of his body.
They’re like limbs. Fingers, mostly, that I can use without any complex process.
Yet, when the Lifeward tried to ooze into the dark nothingness, it once again dissolved into threads of mana that scattered about his body. He felt a certain pressure from inside of that space, a response to his probes that put a sharp end to his attempts.
What’s in there, other than my unused stats and the system’s core? Am I bound to a greater whole by strings just like those Skeletons? Does this mean I’m under an illusion that I’m in control of my body and mind, while in fact, I’m being guided by this genius mastermind?
That was a wild guess without any merit, as, unlike those Skeletons and Oarfangs, Valens could act as however he fit. His remarks and his way of talking, his spells, and his identity. None of it seemed to be different than before, save for his lately growing impatience against anyone trying to cross his lines.
Is it because of Warmagic?
He shook his head. If anything, Warmagic gave him the tools with which he could barricade those lines with real power that was surprisingly effective at keeping people at bay. Even the Templars, warriors who were way stronger than him, acknowledged the power Valens held in his hands.
But even against such new-found strength, he was more bothered by the fact that there was a part of his body that he couldn’t pry into with his skills. It wasn’t just the curiosity that forced him, but also that sickness that seemed to have changed those men’s Resonance from within.
If it’s a skill, then there has to be something similar I can use against it. Or is the issue the level of my skills? Perhaps Lifeward is too low of a level to breach that gap, or the strength of my mana is insufficient. If that is the case, I need to find a solution to this Trial.
Which was why he tried to force his way into Captain Edric’s team to take a look at that tunnel. Celme wasn’t happy to hear that the Captain accepted, and she tried to persuade Valens to stay in the inn with them, telling him that the Templars often dealt in dark things.
At least this one seems relieved, Valens thought as he sneaked a glance at Selin, who was sleeping soundly in the bed by the door. Just now she’d knitted her eyebrows and clutched at the bed, but a simple Lifesurge nursed her mind back to her sleep, this time with happy dreams.
It would take a long effort for her to regain her memories. Months of work, likely, if Valens were to take the safest route. They didn’t have that much time, which was why he decided to go with another approach. One that was strictly forbidden by the Empire’s laws.
I think it’d be safe for both of us that I’d be the first one to see your memories. Though that’s another Code I’ll be breaking.
He sighed out a long breath as he turned over the bed, gazing from the dusty windows out into the dark night, squinting at the moonlight barely spilling from the thick shroud of angry clouds. It would be raining soon, but then, it was always raining in this world.
……..
Valens dragged himself out from the inn’s hall, breathing in the foggy air of the morning, body sore from the night-long conversation he had with himself that didn’t go anywhere as usual. More questions, and some thoughts that could perhaps be worth a time, but beyond that, he didn’t have much to show for it.
Golden plates welcomed him on the porch, three of them shining brightly as though to provide the missing light to this sickly town. Helmets were removed and tucked neatly under the armpits, faces thick with expressions that spoke of mild expectation and a certain reluctance, this one mostly coming from Garran.
“You’re late,” he said the moment Valens took a glance at him. “You can’t be late to God's work.”
“Good thing I’m not a Templar, then,” Valens smiled as he stepped over to their group, clearing purposefully away from Dain’s towering body. “It’s silent here. Soothing, even. I wonder why?”
“Mas would be keeping an eye on your little group,” Captain Edric said as he gave him a look over his shoulder. “He told me to send his regards to you. You two have a bone to pick.”
“Oh, he didn’t tell the Captain anything. That’s not how a normal man speaks, right, Dain?” Garran scoffed.
“Bark!” Dain boomed so suddenly that Valens nearly missed a step as he tried to close his ears. Garran banged a hand across Dain’s chest piece, then both men giggled like fools with one of them missing half of his front teeth.
“Shut it,” Captain Edric mumbled sourly, then shaded his eyes with a hand as he gazed toward the wooden shacks. A man came trudging off from the street, clothed in miner’s rags. He looked to be about similar in age with Harlow, but less rugged with eyes glinting somewhat lively.
“There’s our guide,” the captain said, and that seemed to be the signal as all three of the Templars started toward him. Valens followed them silently, collars of his coat tight over his neck, cold wind nudging forward. Onward like an insisting child, through the streets and up to the mountain that loomed in the distance.
That’s a mean-looking mountain.
Certainly looked like a dark one as well.
…..
Here's an early chapter. My fingers are itching... Something sinister awaits in that mountain. This chapter can be seen as the real transition to the Second Arc, which 'might' have our Healer face the reality of his skills and his identity. I'll be publishing another bonus chapter today since we're about to break that 3000 followers line on Royalroad!
