-traditionally, Leithanian scholars divide Arts into six classical schools based on observable traits:
Beschwörung/Conjugation: The most ancient and widely-used form of Arts, capable of altering, deconstructing, and summoning objects by using Originium as the energy source and a target matter as its medium.
Hervorrufung/Evocation: Commonly known as "summon type" Arts, evoking energy to manifest physical phenomena such as fire, electricity, wind, and ice.
Umwandlung/Transmutation: Tracing back to ancient alchemy, this school alters matter on a molecular level, producing chemical substances, plastics, and even tissues.
Verbesserung/Augmentation: Enhances the biology of living creatures, ranging from physical strength to intelligence improvement, requiring deep knowledge in biology.
Wiederherstellung/Restoration: Often labelled as a sub-branch of the school of Augmentation, enhancing body recovery by accelerating metabolism, demanding a deep understanding of biological structures and medical science.
Wahrsagung/Divination: The rarest and least studied, involves mystic abilities and disrupting biological processes like mind-control and summoning of wild animals.
The classical method is based on natural observations and is easier for commonfolk to understand, while the modernist approach from Columbia seeks to apply Arts industrially, focusing on the nature of Originium, allowing everyone to master Arts and decreasing the margin between Casters and non-Arts users. By the turn of the-
...
The landship lay silent and still, an ominous shadow against the backdrop of the Winterwisp Mountains. The radio messages sent by Rhodes Island had received no response, an unsettling silence echoing back. Kal'tsit and Folinic disembarked with a sense of foreboding, the air thick with unease. The wind whispered through the desolate streets, carrying with it the scent of decay and neglect.
Folinic, her brow furrowed with worry, glanced at Kal'tsit as they made their way into Wolumonde. "Atro was my best friend," she murmured, her voice a thread in the silence. "We studied together, laughed together. I can't help but fear the worst. What if Wolumonde was hit by a Catastrophe like the one we barely managed to evade?"
Kal'tsit's gaze was steady, her voice calm. "We need information on the current state of Leithania. It's essential for our negotiations with the Kurfürsten and the Lichs. Focus on that for now."
The streets were eerily quiet, the gates hanging open as if abandoned in haste. The stillness was unnatural, the kind that cloyed and choked the senses. Folinic stopped, pointing to a small bakery. "Look here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "How long do you think it's been since this bakery was open? No one's been sweeping up the dust and leaves around the door."
Kal'tsit observed the bakery with narrowed eyes. "There's no functioning economy here. No daily life. I understand they've fallen on hard times, but no one wants to buy or sell bread? There's no public transit? This isn't normal."
The windows of the bakery were clouded with grime, and the door hung slightly ajar, creaking with the occasional gust of wind. The marketplace, once the heart of the town's social and economic activity, was now a ghostly tableau of empty stalls and abandoned wares. A child's toy lay forgotten in the dirt, a mute testament to the lives that once thrived here.
As they continued their journey through the marketplace, the emptiness pressed down on them like a physical weight. The once-bustling stalls were now silent, their goods left to decay. Rotting fruits and vegetables lay in heaps, a feast for originium slugs and vermin. The air was thick with the stench of neglect and abandonment.
Moving into Schaukelplatz, they were greeted by a makeshift barrier blocking off a street. Sets of automatic Arts defenses, 'gramophones', were installed on the top, and they began charging up at their presence. The barriers were hastily constructed, a chaotic mix of materials that spoke of desperation and fear. They stood as silent sentinels, their magical energies humming with latent power.
A shout broke the silence. A man stood at the top of the barrier, unkempt, with a long beard and heavily bloodshot eyes. It was evident he hadn't slept properly in a long time. His clothes were ragged, hanging loosely on his gaunt frame. "Who are you, and what do you want?" he demanded, his voice rough and edged with suspicion.
Kal'tsit stepped forward, her voice clear and authoritative. "I am Kal'tsit, and this is Folinic. We are doctors from Rhodes Island. We are here to pick up Dr. Atro."
The man's eyes widened in recognition before he disappeared from the top of the barrier. Moments later, the barricade opened, allowing them through. They could hear murmurs of relief and whispers about 'amnesia' and 'disappearances' as they were let in.
The atmosphere inside was tense, a palpable sense of fear hanging in the air. People glanced at them with haunted eyes, their expressions a mix of hope and dread. The buildings were in various states of disrepair, their facades cracked and weather-worn. Windows were boarded up, and doors were reinforced with makeshift locks.
Severin, the man who had challenged them, approached, his steps heavy with exhaustion. He looked like a man burdened by the weight of the world, his shoulders hunched and his eyes hollow.
"Thank you for coming," he said, his voice a strained whisper. "We need your help. We've been dealing with... strange occurrences. People disappearing, memories fading. The town's also been cut off from the outside world. We're short on supplies. And a gang of armed Infected are out there circling."
"A gang?"
Outlanders. All of them Infected, all of them armed. Leithanian, but there are also Sarkaz among them. Took out that monster for supplies, not that it did any good. Those fucking devils are merely vultures waiting to pick our bones- "
Kal'tsit nodded, cutting off the man's incoming tirade. "We will do everything we can to help. But first, we need to understand what has happened here."
Severin led them deeper into the settlement, the whispers following them like ghosts.
"Severin," Kal'tsit began, her voice steady. "What can you tell us about the disappearances?"
He sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair. "It started a few weeks ago. People would go missing, and no one could remember them. Infected or not, it didn't matter. No bodies, or anything at all. If not for written records or pictures and items, we wouldn't have know they even existed."
Folinic frowned. "And what about Dr. Atro? What happened to her?"
Severin's face tightened with grief. "She... she was investigating the disappearances. A week ago,, she vanished too."
Kal'tsit's eyes narrowed. "We need to see where she was last seen."
He nodded and led them to a small, dilapidated building on the outskirts of the settlement. The windows were broken, and the door hung off its hinges. Inside, the air was cold and musty, filled with the scent of mold and decay. Papers and medical equipment were scattered across the floor, remnants of Atro's desperate search for answers.
"This was her office," Severin said quietly. "She spent hours here, poring over her notes, trying to find a pattern."
Folinic knelt down, picking up a photograph from the debris. It was a picture of Atro, smiling and full of life.
Kal'tsit's gaze was sharp, her mind already working through the possibilities. "We need to gather more information. Talk to the people who still remember. Find out if there are any common threads."