We can't let this happen. But we can't advance without information. We need analysis. We need...
"We return to Sanctuary," Nyxaria decided. "Fetch Lumi and Lazarus. Quickly."
Seris nodded, relieved at a clear order. "But your [Shadow Step]? Its cooldown?"
"Five minutes have passed since the earlier casting." Nyxaria seized Seris's arm. Her touch was light, but the elf could feel the raw power pulsing behind the [Veil] illusion. "Stand close."
She wasted no time on ritual or words. Her power, which had been tightly contained until now, flowed just enough. The world around them vibrated, then folded. The sound of panic, the cloying stench, and Ironveil's feeble light vanished, replaced by familiar silence and cool air.
They stood in the center of Obsidian Sanctuary's throne room. Smooth obsidian floor, high ceiling filled with softly glowing crystals. The shift in atmosphere was so drastic Seris coughed.
Home sweet home. Now, where's the kid?
"Lumi!" Nyxaria called, her voice slightly sharper than usual.
It took only ten seconds. Small footsteps echoed from an adjoining corridor, then Lumi appeared, her white hair tousled, her heterochromatic eyes blinking. She still wore Nyxaria's oversized robe, dragging its hem. Upon seeing Nyxaria, her golden eye gleamed faintly.
"Ghost Mama returned," she murmured, then immediately clung to Nyxaria's waist, her tiny hands fisting the robe's fabric.
"Where is Lazarus?" Nyxaria asked.
"Here, my lord!" That dramatic voice issued from behind a pillar. The necromancer emerged with hurried steps, his black robes swirling. "Is there an emergency? This servant felt the use of [Shadow Step] was somewhat... abrupt."
"Plague in Ironveil. Not natural. I need your analysis." Nyxaria did not mince words. "We return at once. Hold on."
She extended a hand. Lazarus grasped it without hesitation. Lumi already clung fast. Seris nodded, braced.
This time, the [Shadow Step] felt heavier. Carrying four beings, including one entity with a level 999 aura that must remain concealed, strained the fabric of reality. But Nyxaria did not care. She forced it.
They landed upon the roof of a low building in Ironveil's Eastern District. The view from above drew a hiss from Lazarus.
"Oh... oh how wicked."
The eastern district was a dense residential zone, row houses crammed between small factories. Now, its streets were littered with corpses and the dying. Dozens, perhaps hundreds. Their skin blackened like charcoal, some had already crumbled to dust, leaving dark skeletons. Those still alive writhed in agony, their moans forming a horrifying chorus. Some groups of players and NPCs bearing Church symbols tried to quarantine the area, their faces masked with cloth, but clearly terrified. No healing worked.
Lumi wrinkled her nose, then buried her face in Nyxaria's robe. "Bad smell," she whispered.
"Of course it reeks, my dear," Lazarus muttered, his green eyes glowing as he activated a necromantic analysis skill. "This... is no disease. It is a curse. But its structure... is strange. Like light that has been inverted."
"What do you mean?" Seris asked, her scout's eyes tracing the spread pattern.
"Curses are typically dark, corrosive. This... feels holy. But holy that has been twisted, poisoned. Like water of life laced with arsenic." Lazarus extended a hand, trying to sense the mana flow. "The Church. It must be them. But to enact this... on such a scale... they must command vast ritual resources."
Nyxaria listened. Lazarus's analysis matched her suspicion. Holy magic warped into a biological weapon. They create a plague, then blame 'demonic corruption' spreading from my Sanctuary. Or, they will 'cure' it and emerge as heroes. A win-win for them. Except...
"Can you neutralize it?" she asked Lazarus.
The necromancer shook his head, his expression grave for the first time. "This lies beyond this servant's expertise, my lord. This is not the domain of death, but of corrupted life. This servant can perhaps slow its progression, but not reverse it."
Lumi tugged Nyxaria's robe again. Nyxaria bent down. The child whispered, her voice so soft it was for her alone.
"Not sick. This is reversed light. They reversed it. So it became dark."
Lumi's dead-gray eye looked at her, then shifted to the crowd below. "Seeing code. Red and white intertwined. Poisonous white."
Her Glitch Sight perceives system code. So it is truly holy magic (white code) that has been manipulated (red). Mara drew a sharp breath. Then how does one reverse what has already been reversed?
The answer came instantly. A memory from her skill bank. [World Edit: Corruption]. Her authority to rewrite the nature of an area into a corrupted zone. But that authority worked both ways—if she could define 'corruption', then she could also define 'purification'. Not Church-style purification. This was a reversion to a neutral state. Returning chaotic code to zero.
But that means wielding my major authority in the heart of the city, with the [Veil] active. Detection risk. But if not...
She saw a human mother trying to crawl away from her child's already blackened body, her hand outstretched, tears wetting her own skin which was also beginning to darken.
No. There is no choice.
"Lazarus, Seris, guard Lumi. Stay clear of the center," Nyxaria commanded, her voice like steel.
"What will my lord do?" Lazarus asked.
"I will restore balance."
Nyxaria stepped to the roof's edge. Below, a Church priest in white-gold robes was shouting, trying to calm the crowd, his hands making futile holy symbols. "Trust in the Light! This is a trial! Demons have poisoned our air!"
Demons. Always demons.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Nyxaria closed her eyes. Within, she released partial control of the [Veil of the Forgotten Queen]. Not completely, but enough for her inherent authority to permeate reality. She did not need her true form. She only needed will.
[World Edit: Corruption].
But this time, her intent was not corruption. Her intent was cancellation. She visualized the poisonous-white code Lumi saw, then imagined a simple system command: REVERT.
The energy that flowed from her was not the usual black-purple hue. This was a wave of silence, a nothingness in motion. Starting from her feet, it spread throughout the district like ripples across a pond. No dramatic light, no explosive sound. Just... a deeper quiet.
The effect was immediate.
People who had been convulsing went still. The black skin spreading across their bodies halted its advance, then began to fade, receding like a tide, leaving pale, weak flesh, but alive. The already blackened corpses did not rise, but they ceased rotting, becoming ordinary dead. That cloying, rotten stench was torn apart, replaced by the clean smells of iron and sweat.
The Church priest fell silent, his mouth agape. The holy symbol in his hand flickered out.
[System Feedback]
Anomalous Mana Signature: Neutralized.Large-scale Environmental Restoration Detected.Event Logged: Mass Healing Event — Ironveil Eastern District.No Authority Signature Identified — Scrambled.
Scrambled. Good. The [Veil] still holds.
Nyxaria pulled her energy back, locking it once more behind the illusion. She felt a slight dizziness—not from mana depletion, but from the precision required. Reversing a [World Edit] was like performing microsurgery with a sledgehammer.
She opened her eyes. The chaos below had shifted to stunned wonder. People looked at one another, checking their healed bodies in disbelief. Then, cries of relief began to sound.
Seris approached, her tone mingling admiration and anxiety. "Caelyn... what did you do?"
"What was necessary," Nyxaria answered tersely. She looked toward the Church priest. The man was now besieged by residents' questions, his face pale, his eyes wild. He had no answers.
But something else caught Mara's attention. An old human man, skin wrinkled, dressed in simple factory-worker clothes, was staring toward their roof. His eyes did not see Nyxaria directly—the [Veil] prevented that—but he stared in their general direction, as if sensing something. Then, with a slow motion, he nodded.
He knows. Or he suspects.
"We go down," Nyxaria said. "Quickly. Before they pinpoint the source."
They descended via the emergency stairs at the building's rear, returning to the street. The crowd now thrummed with gratitude and confusion. Some player-healers could finally work, tending to residual weakness. The atmosphere had shifted from horror to fragile relief.
Nyxaria kept to the periphery, avoiding the throng. Lumi clung to her side, while Lazarus and Seris formed a loose protective formation. As they passed through a narrow alley leading back to the Ink District, someone touched Nyxaria's arm.
It was the old man from before.
His face was etched with the marks of hard labor, but his eyes were keen. His voice was a hoarse rasp, almost lost in the recovering city's rumble.
"Thank you, miss," he whispered. "I don't know who you are, but I saw... that change came from your direction."
Nyxaria remained silent, waiting.
The man glanced around, then leaned closer. "But be careful. Those who made this... they already know their scheme failed. They will hunt for anyone who spoiled their work. And they have many eyes in this city."
"Who are 'they'?" Seris asked, her voice low.
"Those in white robes," the old man answered briefly. Then, with a swift movement, he slipped a crumpled scrap of paper into Nyxaria's hand. "This. For repaying the favor. That place... may hold answers you seek."
Then he melted into the crowd, as if he had never been.
Nyxaria unfolded the paper. It bore a scrawled address, not in the Ink District, but in the black market quarter. And a small note: "They seek a light box. Do not let them claim it."
Light box. Perhaps linked to the 'glowing box' Lumi detected earlier? Or something else? She pocketed the paper. Their mission to the Archivists' Guild now possessed a new dimension. The Rust-Knuckles gang ransacking the bookstore might not be mere thugs—they might have been sent by 'those in white robes' to find something specific. Something that could reveal the truth, or conversely, destroy it.
"We proceed?" Seris asked, looking toward the Folio & Dust bookstore, now only a few turns away.
Nyxaria nodded. The plague had been addressed. But the real battle—the battle for truth—was only commencing. And this time, they would not be late.
She stepped forward, her shadow, misrendered by the [Veil], falling upon the street still damp from the suffering just washed away. Lumi gripped her robe tightly, her small steps eager. Lazarus adjusted his robes with dramatic flair, ready for the next act. Seris vanished into the shadows ahead, her elven eyes scanning every window, every rooftop, every potential threat lying in wait.
They walked toward the bookstore, toward postponed violence, toward answers that might prove more perilous than the plague itself.
They halted before the same door. The same shadow. But the violence behind it had ceased.
Nyxaria pushed, and the solid wood emitted a hoarse creak, swinging slowly inward. Dim light from the alley slipped inside, cutting a pale triangle across the dusty floor. The only sounds were the hum of the wounded city and the crunch of broken glass beneath their boots.
Empty. But not silent.
The interior of Folio & Dust looked as if a very personal storm had torn through it. Bookshelves lay toppled, spilling their contents like torn entrails. Papers were strewn everywhere, some ripped, some spattered with dark stains that gleamed wetly in the feeble light. The long wooden table at the room's center was split in two, as if struck by something massive. The stench of blood and sweat lingered, mingling with the scent of ruined old paper.
Seris slipped in first, her dagger already drawn, those elven eyes sweeping every corner. Lazarus held Lumi back, a slender hand shielding the child's shoulder. Nyxaria stepped inside, her [Veil of the Forgotten Queen] still humming softly, obscuring her presence but unable to mask the devastation.
"They're gone," Seris whispered, her voice flat. "Just now. Still warm."
Mara scanned the room. Five rough breaths earlier. Now, none. But there was one. A different one. Her level 999 senses detected a faint pulse of fear, choked, from behind a pile of books in the rear left corner. A tall wooden cabinet with its door slightly ajar.
Lumi tugged Nyxaria's robe. She pointed toward that cabinet, her golden eye blinking. "Someone alive. But... scared."
"Come out," Nyxaria said, her voice deliberately leveled, not threatening but offering no warmth. "We are not the Rust-Knuckles."
No answer. Only a soft scrape from within the cabinet, then a stifled cough.
Lazarus stepped forward, raising a hand with theatrical grace. "O soul in hiding, we come not as bearers of calamity, but as seekers of truth! Emerge, lest your own fear suffocate you!"
Seriously, Lazarus? Mara groaned inwardly. We need information, not a dramatic soliloquy.
Yet somehow, Lazarus's excessive manner worked. The cabinet door slowly opened wider. From behind a heap of robes and spare books, a human man crawled out. He appeared middle-aged, his brown hair streaked with gray at the temples, his round glasses cracked in one lens. His brown robe was torn at the shoulder, and a bluish-green bruise marred his cheek. His level hovered above his head: [Tobias – Level 52 – Archivist]. The numerals were pale, almost translucent.
NPC. Low level. Not a combatant. Mara instantly classified.
Tobias trembled, his eyes wide as they darted from face to face, stopping on Lumi who was half-hidden behind Nyxaria's robe. "W-who are you? What do you want? I have nothing left! They took everything!"
"We seek the Archivists' Guild," Nyxaria answered, maintaining calm. "We were told you possess access to... unusual information."
"Guild?" Tobias laughed, a broken sound. "Look around! This is all that remains of our guild! Only me! The others... they fled, or were injured, or..." He swallowed. "The Rust-Knuckles came earlier. They were searching for something. They claimed we hoard 'forbidden goods'. They demanded a 'security contribution'." His expression mirrored Grift's thin, mirthless smile. "The Archivists refused. We said we possessed nothing. But the Rust-Knuckles didn't believe it. Now, every time a shipment arrives or departs... incidents occur. Goods disappear. People are harmed."
"What were they seeking?" Seris asked, edging closer.
"I don't know! They only said 'light box'. But we have nothing like that! Except..." Tobias hesitated, his gaze returning to Lumi. The child stared back with that peculiar, vacant intensity. "Except... the one below."
"Below?" Nyxaria pressed.
Tobias studied them with a long look, as if weighing their intent. Then, perhaps moved by Lumi's non-threatening appearance, or by sheer desperation, he gave a slow nod. "There is... a basement. The guild founder's private library. Only senior members know of it. The Rust-Knuckles did not find it. They were too crude." He stood, swaying, then limped toward the shop's rear, behind a tattered curtain. "Follow me. If you are true seekers of truth... perhaps you deserve to see it."
They followed him through a narrow passage behind collapsed shelf walls, down creaking wooden stairs concealed by a cabinet with a false back. The air below grew colder, drier, thick with dust. Light came from small crystals set into the low ceiling, emitting a constant, pale white glow.