Elsword's home was far less grand than what Aisha had expected from a Grand Admiral's house. It was very quaint, and what few luxurious objects there were, like a silver tea set, glass cabinets in the kitchen, or even an expensive-looking copper pan, were arranged in a way that was far more reminiscent of a cosy yet modest inn.

She was surprised to see Elsword light up the home with only one incantation, charging the El Lamps with enough mana to last hours. Yet, he immediately coughed, and some blood dropped on the floor. Aisha approached him as he headed down the kitchen, dragging his feet. He let out a long, tired sigh that curbed his back.

"Do you need help?" the mage asked, only to have him shake his head.

"Just go talk with your friend," he mumbled. "The room is the third one to your left."

His tone was dry, though it did not feel natural for a brat his age. It surprised the mage, but she figured leaving him to deal with his troubles was best. She turned away from him and followed down the hall he had directed her towards. Part of her wondered if it was all right to leave him alone. Aisha quickly shook her doubts away as she opened the door of her new room. She reasoned that, at his age, solitude was the best counsellor.

When she turned on the light, an old, El-powered lamp that barely did its job, Aisha was surprised at how open the Felfords seemed to be with kids around their room. She could spot a doll on the bed and a training sword neatly put next to the doll, almost as if she were supposed to grab it. There was a tiny note folded unevenly on the sword. It only took a glance for Aisha to tell that the note was the product of an even younger kid than Elsword.

A wooden sword and a doll… Was Elsword the oldest of three siblings, maybe two? Just thinking that an Admiral would let his kids roam about and play with each other's toys was a rather odd assumption, but the only one she could come to, given how the toys lay about instead of being locked away or generally out of reach for children. Was it a last-minute punishment before they went away? It was likely, but…

Aisha shook all those thoughts out of her head, reminding herself that Mathi started his rounds early and that she only had an hour, or perhaps less than that, to reach him before his duties began.

Aisha grabbed an El Stone and poured some mana into it, lighting the room enough to spot the Communication Orb on the desk on the opposite side. The marble was exquisitely carved, and the silver claw that held the yellow orb had little pieces of purified El encrusted within it. The Sanderian mage could not help but gasp at the sight of such a powerful communication station. With something like that, she could even call back home and…

The mage's gaze sank. She had spent so much time here that she had forgotten that her grandfather would never answer again. She closed the door to the room, locked it out of habit and decided to get down to work.

With a long sigh, she pulled the delicate wooden chair and sat in front of the orb, taking a small El Stone from her pocket and carefully focusing her mana so she would not start feeling the unpleasant effects of the lack of El seeping into her body. The orb glowed with such ease, and the golden swirls of sand were so finely tuned that they reminded her how perfect and refined magic could be. It was the first time she had had such ease weaving any spell in two years. The orb shone to life in seconds, and it did not take long for Mathi to answer.

"Oh, thank the El! Sir Felford, do you copy?" Mathi's boyish voice came from the orb with a sigh of relief. "Did you return to Ruben?"

"Why would the Admiral return here, silly?" Aisha asked him with a smirk.

"Aisha?" He gasped, suddenly lowering his voice. "What are you doing in Ruben? Aunt Vapor didn't—!"

Aisha rolled her eyes, kicking her feet under the table and almost wishing she had hit him on the shins for asking such a dumb question. "That old hag doesn't get to tell me what to do. If you and Yuria can come here, why can't I, huh?"

"Because your—!" His voice lowered by half an octave, but he cleared his throat. He was a late bloomer, but even now, it seemed he hated to adapt to the fact that he was finally starting to look and sound like a man. "We can't just waltz into Lurensia, Aisha. Yuria and her research group have a special permit. I was offered a position in the Earth Temple, but how did you even manage to cross the sea?"

"Geniuses don't need to explain their methods," she huffed. "But wait, why are you worried about Sir Felford if you're with the Church?"

"There's been some, uhm, special circumstances. I'm temporarily working with the Centurion Guard as a healer."

"What do you mean by special circumstances?" Aisha asked, tilting her head slightly.

There was some mumbling on the other end, most of which she could not understand. It lasted for a minute before Mathi's voice came back to her, loud and clear. "Oh, well… I just wanted to help them out, and they let me. Uh, before I answer your question, could you tell me how you got into the Felfords' summer residence?"

"The Admiral's son invited me in," she answered with a shrug. "I got manners, unlike your idiot friend… What was her name again? The one who thinks she's an adventurer because she broke into the Water Temple once."

"It's Lithia, but that's beside the point. So, Elias Felford invited you in? Is his sister with him?"

"Huh?" Aisha furrowed her brow at him, tilting her head briefly to the side as she tried to understand why Mathi asked about anyone but Elsword. "No. Elsword Felford invited me in. Who are you even talking about, Mathi?"

Before she could get an answer, the sands shifted unnaturally. The link was connecting elsewhere and transmitting her last message to a new destination. No matter how focused, she could not make the link return to what it was. The sands stabilized and remained still for a moment.

"Uhm, hello?" the mage asked, wondering how anyone could hijack such a stable link.

The sands shifted again, but Aisha did not stop them. Her orb was reconnected to Mathi's, and his voice chimed in again, calling her name with a tinge of concern. As strange as the hijacking was, she assumed Mathi knew as little as she did about the hijacker's identity. Asking about it was pointless.

"I'm here, I'm here," Aisha sighed. "Don't worry."

He sighed. "Glad to have you back. The connection was cut off for a minute there… So, uh, are you with the Felford twins?"

"No, I'm with Elsword Felford," Aisha corrected him. "Y'know, he's loud and a redhead, like his mom, I suppose."

Mathi remained silent on the other end, and it did not take her long to worry about him.

"Mathi?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry, Aisha. Uhh…" he apologized as the mumbling around him grew louder. Though most of it was unintelligible, the young mage could hear worried gasps and quiet orders to keep trying to locate the Admiral and his family. "So, you're with Elsword. Got it. What was it you wanted to ask me?"

Aisha bit her lip, looking at the door leading to the room. She hoped that Elsword had not heard anything so far. The mage combed her braids behind her ears and explained the situation to Mathi, including her theories on how she could perhaps reverse the effects of the lack of El on the people who were not too far gone. Before she could get through half of her theoretical hexes, Mathi interrupted her.

"Please give up on that," he told her without hiding his more masculine voice. "Healing magic has its limits."

Aisha scoffed. "Well, duh! But the limits the healers here have are only due to how weak their magic is!" She clicked her tongue, scanning over her work so far. It would require perfect magic circuits, and only high nobility or the Landars could cast them. She had to make him understand that they were only a step away from saving an entire village.

The mage licked her lips and put her hands together, almost in prayer. "If you or I were to figure out the real limits, we could save lives here." Aisha paused, pursing her lips. "I need your help," she whispered. "Please, Mathi. I promised to help these people. I can't go back on my word."

"There are only two types of healing magic, Aisha," the healer on the other end of their link told her after letting out a deep sigh. "Neither can reverse what has been done to someone. Healing magic only speeds up the body's natural recovery."

"There's a third type," the purple-haired mage countered. "Don't lie to me."

"You shouldn't use it, Aisha. Nobody would blame you for giving up now, so—"

The Sanderian mage frowned, gritting her teeth at how Mathi seemed utterly ignorant of the seriousness of the situation. "We're at the end of the rope here, Mathi," she hissed, clenching her fists tighter on the desk. Aisha exhaled, but instead of calming down, she grew more tense, and her voice grew louder. "What am I supposed to do, tell everyone that they're just gonna have to wait in line for their funeral?!"

"The third method would kill them all the faster, Aisha," Mathi coldly informed her. "To cure the incurable, you must transfer the damage to someone else. Someone who's still alive. The knights won't let you do that. I wouldn't let you do that."

At that information, Aisha almost wanted to crumble into a pile of dust, like the leaves and the trees around them. Her gaze sank to the floor, and she silently grabbed her head before covering her face. She let a shaky breath out, shivering at the memory of the bloated, rotting bodies of the villagers she watched the healers transport out of their impromptu healing ward. The faces of the families, and their screams, fuelled by grief and the state of their loved ones were all etched in her mind. Six had died in a single day.

The village did not look to have more than a hundred people, even with the knights now patrolling it. The number of days left before the village became a ghost town – if there was nothing she could do to slow the Withering down – was as crushingly depressing as it was fast to calculate for her.

She hiccuped, feeling her eyes burn and sting under the weight of tears. Aisha sobbed quietly, assuming the silence on the other end of her link was because Mathi had left.

"Hey, Aisha, maybe there's nothing you can do to save the people who've gotten sick, but," Mathi quietly began, catching her off guard. Aisha wiped her tears off and looked at the still-active orb. "You can stop the healthy villagers from getting symptoms," her friend explained. "I can't pull off, but Lithia's mother developed hexes to reverse and stop the natural decay of El energy in most enchanted objects. If you use them in El Stones to strengthen them, then…"

"Wait, let me get out my quill and ink."

Elsword awoke at dawn, curled on the sofa and smelling of his sweat from the day before. The house was silent, which probably meant Aisha had not woken up. He inhaled as he got up, scratching his head as his muscles, especially his arms, still screamed for him to rest.

Yet, he could not. Elsword was a knight of the El Search Party and had to act as such.

The boy groaned as his shoulder blades seemed to crack when he stretched, and he looked down at his calloused hands. His fingers were red, sore from swinging a sword or a shovel the day before. His nails were splitting; trimming them before they began to bleed would be best. The young knight headed to the bathroom, making a mental note to look at whatever was left in the pantry and only eat what was strictly necessary. The Withering had wiped down all crops, at least all those he could see.

Hunger. That was what everyone would feel when the food reserves inevitably ran out.

As he stepped into the tiny shower and let a cold jet of water soothe his sore body, Elsword realised he had never gone hungry. Meals were always a certainty, just like the sunrise. He exhaled as he rubbed the bar of soap on his arms. His superiors would come up with something, surely, to ration the food that was left. To make sure the elderly did not die, nor the kids.

'We'll be okay, right?' the boy questioned himself as he bathed, 'We'll only be a little hungry for a few days…'

Surely, things had to get better. Even with his family gone, even with Wyll and the Captain gone, and all that death, tomorrow was always a better day.

Once he had washed off his doubts and sweat, Elsword put on his spare uniform: a long-sleeved red shirt, white pants paired with his old leather boots, and a white gambeson instead of chainmail.

When he stepped into the kitchen, a sugary smell hit him, making his stomach grumble with hunger. As inviting as the smell was, panic soon swallowed his hunger when he saw the dozen ingredients Aisha had laid out in a neat row of small bags and flasks of all shapes. The mage was humming along a song he did not know as she cooked.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, crossing his arms.

The Sanderian mage looked over her shoulder and shrugged. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Elsword walked up to her and began to grab everything she had taken, one by one, examining the weight. Whatever she was making, it was for more than two people. He saw about six wooden plates with pancakes and dried berries already set apart.

"You're wasting our food; that's what it looks like," he hissed at her as he put each item – flour, sugar, honey, crushed nuts, butter, and salt – back in their place. "We can't grow anything, and you're here wasting what little we have!"

The mage frowned at him, and the flame that heated the pan where she was frying pancakes turned off. "Come with me for a minute," she calmly ordered as she walked past him. "I found how to deal with that."

He raised an eyebrow at her, watching her walk to the room he had lent her. Elsword shook his head, hoping she had not made a mess out of it. The boy jogged down the hall, and the sweet fragrance of Velderian Sentinels made him rush all the faster towards his parents' room.

The sight was like something out of a dream. Aisha had taken some of the potted flowers outside and had revived them. The pots themselves glimmered with El Energy, and the previously wilted floral emblem of Velder was back in full bloom.

"I don't think we have enough to revive an entire field, but," the purple-haired mage said, caressing the soft, crimson petals of the Sentinel, "we could save at least part of the crops."

Elsword slowly walked into the room and crouched in front of the potted plants, touching their blooms and leaves to ensure they were real. "This is what your friend helped you with?"

"Well, it wasn't what I initially asked him for, but yes," Aisha sighed. "As for the extra food I made… I thought the village kids who lost family needed something to cheer them up. You wouldn't mind helping me deliver those, right?"

Elsword got back on his feet and gave her a nod and a thankful smile. "You're surprisingly thoughtful."

The mage blushed and turned away from him, storming out of the room as if he had insulted her.

The young knight tilted his head at the paradoxical reaction. Were compliments considered insults in Fluone?

It was a possibility he had never considered. He ought to remember it going forward.

Old Hagus was the village chief. Elsword had always known the man as a laid-back, round, bearded man whose brown hair had not greyed at all despite being almost sixty. His daughter, Ann, was equally cheerful as her father, with bright pink hair, round blue eyes, and the same hearty and loud laughter as her father, albeit less deep.

The Hagus standing next to Leyla now had nothing in common with the old man Elsword knew. He carried a portrait of his daughter as solemnly as every other knight carried their swords. She had not survived the night, and neither had three other villagers. Sadly, he knew about the latter victims first-hand.

Of all the pancake plates Elsword and Aisha had set to deliver, half caused more tears than they did smiles. The young knight glanced to his right and saw that the mage, while forcing herself to keep a straight face, still had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Men," Leyla solemnly began, "as it stands, most of our remaining Squad Leaders are injured, missing, or have unfortunately fallen in our battle against demonkind."

The green-haired knight paused, eyeing the entire crowd, commanding their attention. "In this crisis, I can only ask that you remember your oath and do what you must to uphold it. No code or law has ever been put in place to deal with the hand we've been given, soldiers. I cannot stop you, should you choose your own survival over that of your fellow knights, of the innocents in this village. The only factor in that decision lies in your conscience. Yet, before you make any decision, I ask that you remain for now and listen to the truth. The cause of this catastrophe is, unfortunately, our burden to carry as an organisation."

Elsword clenched his hand over the handle of his sword. Those who left would become the worst cowards the world had ever seen. Leyla called for Aisha, and the mage walked forth while Hagus took the stage.

The old village leader looked down at the painting he carried, remaining silent for a minute before facing the crowd of soldiers himself. "I trusted Lowe the same way I trusted your Captain." Hagus licked his lips, glancing at the image of his daughter again before continuing. "I'm not a noble or a rich merchant; I'm… I'm just someone who's gained the trust of the village to lead them. Maybe that's why I can't understand how Lord Sunderland and Lowe think."

The bearded man let a shaky breath out, "My daughter, Ann… I welcomed her as my own, even if her real parents would have rather have her gone from this world. Your Captain also welcomed two sons, though you might have only known them as two of your comrades," Hagus closed his eyes and shook his head softly, "I don't know all the details, but what I do know is that Lowe wanted to make those boys disappear and that Lord Sunderland wanted something valuable from our village. In hindsight, I should've known it had to be the El Shard. They made a deal. The lives of those boys in exchange for the El."

Low murmurs spread through the crowd of knights, some in disbelief, others seething angrily. Elsword, despite it all, could almost sigh in relief, knowing that the Captain had not been the one to betray them. Yet, he now had a clearer idea of why Wyll did not want to make his past known. Being the Captain's son would have drawn scrutiny and envy from others. Gesson was probably a fake name. Still, with both Wyll and Liam gone, the boy now wondered if they were still alive. He hoped so.

Hagus continued talking, mentioning the village's remaining grain and their best efforts to preserve some cattle and dried meat. The game was out of the question, as most of it had been affected by the Withering. Aisha then stepped forth to explain her solution to the dead crops. It was a process that mixed magic and gems and had something to do with rewinding time, though the intricacies of the process went over his head.

At last, Leyla retook the stage and called all the knights to order. All of them stood firm, looking up at her without question.

"Soldiers," she announced, her dark eyes filled with determination. "There is hope at the end of the road. I vow to do all I can to protect you and to lead us to a better tomorrow, but I can't promise that all of you will live to see it. Will you still follow me, men?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the knights roared in unison.

Ainchase spotted a trail of blood, footprints, and claws on the path ahead. It was awfully familiar to the one leading to the failed ritual they had uncovered almost a month ago. Luciela peeked out from behind him and furrowed her brow at it. Yet, when he used his powers to ascertain how much demonic energy they were dealing with this time, the Celestial's gaze widened at the familiar sting he felt crawling over his fingers.

"It's different from back then." She sighed, furrowing her brow, "This is… What in the world is this?"

"Is it in our way?" Ciel asked, crouching over the trail of blood, looking carefully at where it led. "We could try to avoid it, whatever it is."

Ainchase summoned enough energy to excise the corruption slowly taking hold of him, though the process felt different. What should have been a painless process brought a slight burning sensation, if only for a second.

"Avoiding it isn't an option," the Celestial informed them, forming a halberd in his hands. Grasping it brought the same bizarre burning feeling, though it quickly subsided. "It will spread if we leave it alone."

The Steel Cross sighed. "How can it grow with no mana? It's not demonic in origin, so—"

"Exactly," the Celestial cut the half-demon's protests short. "It's not demonic. It's far worse."

With that, Ainchase followed the trail of blood, soon joined by the demoness and her slave. The blood trail went off the beaten path and into the now desert-looking wilderness where the only signs of life were a few animal skulls and ashen twigs strewn about the dunes of ashes and dust. As they headed further into the arid land, the droplets of blood became full-on puddles and soon, they found a half-eaten human hand cut a little above the wrist. It had the same bracelet the knights often used, especially when venturing near the Tree of El.

The El could be closer than they thought, but that was all the more reason to proceed cautiously. The puddles stretched into thick smears of blood leading up to the last tree left standing. It had crystallised into a grey, ashen state, making it look like a granite statue.

At its feet, an injured Lowe was sitting down. His ribcage had burst open, his beating heart was set right in front of him. The blood around him still flowed, following a complex rune pattern. It was a living summoning circle, one made with blood magic that was not powered by mana at all, but rather its ugly, chaotic, and heretical predecessor: Henir's blight.

As they approached, the man's unfocused grey gaze lifted up towards them, and a bitter chuckle escaped from his lips before he ended up spitting blood, which spread into more runes. It was a living spell, which only made intervention all the more difficult.

Even the demons could feel that what they were facing now was unnatural. They took a step back. The spell had a countdown rune, but Ainchase could not tell when it would trigger or what awaited them when it reached zero.

"So you're the ones I'll be seeing last," the Lieutenant wheezed. "How unexpected."

"How in Sult's name are you alive?" the demoness asked, crossing her arms as her gaze sank to the beating heart and back to the gaping hole in Lowe's chest. "Blood magic can't even begin to explain this miracle."

The brown-haired knight sighed, though it came out as a raspy groan. "If you were feeling the level of pain I'm in, you wouldn't call this a miracle at all."

"Well, you're in luck." Ciel scoffed. "I'm the medic you need." He pointed his weapon at the beating heart, pulled the safety and shot it twice before Ainchase could think about stopping him.

The bullets slowed more and more as they approached the circle. Even the spark of the explosion that sent them appeared slowly, and then… It reversed. The half-demon was surprised to find himself doing the same movements he had done to shoot but in reverse, as well.

"Don't bother," Lowe croaked.

The Steel Cross shook his head and emptied both weapons, but the result was no different from the first time.

"What the fuck," the Steel Cross cursed under his breath. "Time magic is fairytale bullshit."

The dying Lieutenant smirked. "It really is. I don't know how a spell this complex could be cast without a drop of El, but I guess I had to pay somehow."

"Pay?" the Celestial questioned him, furrowing his brow.

Lowe sighed and licked his bloodied lips. "Yeah. I bargained the El Shard in exchange for having two princes executed."

Ainchase tightened his grip around his weapon, unveiling his Spiritual form to this mortal only after he confessed to his atrocious crime. The sentence was already set in stone, but Celestials always allowed sinners to confess.

"To think a human would be far more foolish than a Glitter," the Steel Queen scoffed. "I hope those princes are made of El so you can at least restore this mess with their blood."

Lowe chuckled, only gurgling more blood out of his body, though he had lost enough already to be dead. Henir's influence kept him conscious, yet not alive; the Lieutenant had become an undead.

Once he spat more blood, the knight took a sharp breath and said, "A certain Admiral would've probably told me the same thing, though, knowing my Captain… He will not let those two die so easily. Which is exactly why we're in this mess to begin with." Lowe briefly squinted his eyes at Ainchase. Black skin and blue veins spread over the Lieutenant's cheek, but he did not notice.

Half of Lowe's face turned black, and his eyes filled with blood; his pupils turned as blue as the veins that now marked his face. "Well, not that it matters now. The village will die in a week, maybe less." The knight sighed. "Before you judge me too harshly, Lord Sunderland is building a lot of metal golems, some of which would've stopped this. The Captain probably did something to prevent the deal from going as planned."

Ainchase furrowed his brow at his words. He remembered the chip Rena had shown them two days ago. Though mere Nasods were not nearly enough to replace the El, the quality of the piece of El in that tiny fragment of Nasod machinery could be enough to revive half a field of crops at least.

"Well, too bad your plan went south, heretic," Ciel grumbled as he changed the bullets of his weapon to silver rounds embued with small pieces of the Earth El, the biggest and strongest Shard in the two realms. "Before we clean up your mess, how about you tell us who the necromancer is who put you here?"

"I wouldn't know," the undead replied, though his voice was now distorted, an amalgamation of those of women and men mixed with a guttural, inhumanly deep voice. "I was ambushed after I resigned from my position. Next thing I knew, I was here, watching my heart beat outside my body."

The influence of Henir was growing, accelerating the erratic beating of Lowe's heart. The countdown had started, and it was reaching zero fast. Ainchase unveiled his true form and pierced the vital organ with one swift strike.

Alas, he had not put enough of Ishmael's energy into it. The blackened blood exploded all over the circle, rising wildly into spikes only to slide back into the hole in the man's chest. Lowe's bloodied gaze widened, shedding tears of blood before his neck audibly snapped, his head tilting upside down. His arms dislocated as the corruption continued to spread all over his body. The once recognisably human body was twisting into a quadruped abomination, with long, ape-like limbs and a toothless jaw shaped like a lizard's. Before the transformation was completed, the Celestial unveiled his true form, transforming his halberd into one of Ishmael's sacred swords.

"Iuste iudex ultionis. Donum fac remissionis," he chanted through the burning sensation that the sacred sword triggered on his flesh. "Ante diem rationis."

He cut the vile creature in half with one strike, and not even the ashes remained.

"What was that?" Lu whispered, shocked at the ashes vanishing in the wind like the summoning circle.

"That is Henir's scourge," he coldly answered, regaining his human shell before turning around to face the two demons. "It's what we'll have to fight against when facing the Scion."