Chapter 74 74: Corruption
Golden Temple, Erdtree Cathedral.
As the sacred sanctuary closest to the roots of the Great Tree, it commands the most concentrated and pure manifestation of order across the Lands Between, a place where all golden incantations are magnified to their absolute zenith.
At this moment, within a silent, heavily guarded chamber on the third floor of the cathedral, a massive, intricate network of runes was carved deep into the stone floor. Twelve high-ranking priests sat cross-legged upon the specific nodes of the array, their faces pale with strain as they continuously poured the full measure of their faith and strength into the glyphs.
The golden light flowed steadily along the ancient channels, eventually converging upon a slender, golden-haired boy dressed in pale silk robes at the absolute center of the formation. Miquella stretched out his small hands, casting a gentle, mist-like golden rain that drifted downward through the quiet room.
Basking beneath the golden drizzle lay a petite girl. Her face was deathly pale, providing a heartbreaking contrast to the vibrant, rose-red hair spilling across the stone. Her delicate skin was mapped with dark, pulsing scarlet veins that coiled outward like toxic vines, and large patches of raw, weeping scars marked the boundaries where her golden prosthetic limbs were pinned to her flesh.
Whenever the pure light managed to penetrate her skin, the wretched lines and corrosive marks would temporarily recede, only to violently surge back the moment the glow flickered. In this agonizing, invisible tug-of-war, thick beads of cold sweat constantly broke across the little girl's forehead, her expression tightening in silent pain.
This precarious balance held for nearly two hours, pushing the physical limits of the twelve priests until their strength was almost completely spent. Only then did the scarlet rot tearing through the girl's body finally lose its aggressive momentum, gradually being driven back into its original boundaries by the persistent rain of light.
The moment the runic array ceased its hum, more than half of the priests collapsed from absolute exhaustion, and the boy at the center of the chamber stood swaying on the absolute brink of fainting.
Miquella bent over, his small frame trembling violently as his bloodshot eyes scanned the marks scoring his sister's flesh. Verifying that the corruption had desisted from its outward spread, he finally let out a long, weary sigh, dragging his feet toward the heavy oak door.
The exact moment the door creaked open, Lucia rushed forward, his hands locking around the boy's trembling arms as his voice broke with intense anxiety. "Miquella, speak to me. How is she?"
"Driven back for this watch... but it is a temporary respite," Miquella whispered, his voice dangerously thin. "The priests have given everything they have. If the rot fractures the seal again tonight, our hands will possess zero means to hold the line."
Lucia's brow knit into a tight, dark knot. He turned his face to look at Aegis, who was standing a short distance down the corridor. "Is there still zero word from the Lord Consort's chambers? Where is Radagon?"
Aegis shook his head, his features exceptionally somber. "Your Highness, according to the outriders who reported three minutes past, the Lord Consort is nowhere to be found within the capital ring."
Lucia's expression hardened, a string of silent, bitter curses tearing through his thoughts. That man had already abandoned his family across the borders of Liurnia once before, and now that Malenia was hovering over an absolute precipice, he had inexplicably vanished from the court again!
The solitary force capable of truly suppressing the nightmare inside Malenia was Miquella's unalloyed golden faith. But now, the boy's own reservoirs were completely empty; he was forced to rely on the ritual array to aggregate the residual power of the cathedral priests, manually purifying the light through his own flesh just to keep the curse at bay.
But the priests were entirely spent, Radagon was missing, and the faith of the remaining palace guards lacked the purity required to touch the rot. If the scarlet flower bloomed a second time tonight, they would be left entirely weaponless.
Suddenly, a sharp thought struck Lucia. "What of the Finger Readers and the envoys serving the Two Fingers? Their connection to the higher order is absolute—surely their light is pure enough to cleanse the flesh? We have four demigods present in this palace; we can directly petition the high envoys to intervene..."
"It is futile, Lucia," Miquella said, shaking his head in deep exhaustion. "Your line has not known the envoys long enough to understand their nature. They share nothing with the golden priesthood. They are an entirely separate classification of existence, and the power they wield operates on a completely different frequency from our own. Even the high envoy who watches over my sister's destiny is entirely powerless against this affliction."
Lucia's hand froze, his fingers gripping his silver hair as his back slid down the stone wall in a state of sudden, helpless dejection.
No... the trajectory is entirely wrong. In the old records, Malenia managed to securely lock the corruption away through the mastery of the Waterfowl blade... but that event lies winters down the road.
What of Miquella's Unalloyed Gold? He hasn't even mastered the foundational principles of the Golden Order yet. How many years must pass before his mind can forge an independent law to save her?
Why has the crisis advanced to this watch? Did my presence across this world cause a hidden shift in the scales? Did my ascension across the battlefield strip her of her natural protection, transmuting her childhood into a sacrifice for my glory?
A chaotic torrent of dark, agonizing thoughts swirled through his mind. Looking through the half-open door at the silent, motionless girl lying upon the stone, a freezing sense of self-doubt and absolute despair gripped his heart for the first time since his arrival. If his presence in this world meant this innocent girl was conformed to perish before her time, how was his shield supposed to face the future?
The memory of her clear, bell-like laughter still seemed to vibrate along the corridor. He could see her bright, un-clouded smile the moment his eyelashes dropped. But a microsecond later, those beautiful images shattered into dust, replaced by the terrifying vision of a colossal, blinding scarlet flower blooming amidst the ruins of the capital.
"There manifests an alternate path we have yet to test."
Just as Lucia's thoughts were sliding into the abyss, a calm, clear voice softly resonated from the far end of the hallway.
Miquella and Lucia lifted their eyes simultaneously, watching Princess Ranni stride through the archway. Her previous traveling garments had likely been stained with blood while her hands assisted Rykard in managing Radahn's wounds; she was now dressed in a fresh, light blue sorcerer's robe, the half-wolf boy Blaidd tracking her slipstream like a silent shadow while carrying his massive greatsword over his shoulder.
"My brother is resting securely under Rykard's watch, so my boots turned toward this cathedral to verify your situation," she spoke, her tone maintaining its trademark ice-cold, aristocratic composure. "Judging by the expressions mapping your faces, your intellects have hit a total wall. Why not permit my voice to introduce a different strategy?"
Lucia gazed at the moonlit, aloof girl standing before him, his heart turning over a complex web of emotions. Although her physical form had not yet been bound to the porcelain features of the Snow Witch doll, her calm, un-bending demeanor already perfectly mirrored the legendary witch he remembered from behind the screen.
If an intelligence like hers was looking at the board... perhaps there truly existed a path?
"Speak," Lucia said, drawing a deep, grounding breath to clear his mind. "My house is listening."
"Why must your calculations permanently restrict your options to the use of Erdtree prayers to suppress this affliction?"
Her initial inquiry instantly caused both Miquella and Lucia's focus to sharpen.
Before they could formulate a response, Ranni stepped closer, her blue robes shifting smoothly across the stone. "A curse emerging from the domain of an outer god can strictly be countered by an equivalent weight of an alternate divinity. If the golden prayers of the current law are failing to hold the line, then our hands must look to the frost sorceries of the Cold Moon, or the primeval red lightning clutched within the lineages of the Ancient Dragons."
Her blue eyes locked onto Miquella. "Among the three of us, your golden faith is the most peaceful and stabilizing force; it must function as the foundation substrate to anchor and isolate the rot. Concurrently, my own frost magic will be deployed to freeze the energetic activity of the curse to its absolute lowest baseline, preventing its venom from spreading through her veins."
"In addition to those two elements," she turned her visor to fix Lucia in a piercing stare, "my calculation demands a third force—an energy that operates in direct, absolute opposition to my frost to maintain the structural balance of the seal, while systematically burning away the newly forming scarlet rot before it can take root. Do your thoughts grasp the layout?"
"Are your processors certain that the red lightning of the Ancient Dragons can execute a delicate task of that nature?" Lucia asked, his brow furrowing in genuine bewilderment. "My steel can hardly execute a Dragon Thunder Slash across Malenia's bare chest, can it?"
Hearing his response, even a princess commanding Ranni's absolute, ice-cold temperament could not prevent a sudden surge of profound annoyance from flashing across her face. Her blue eyes scanned the dragon youth from his silver hair down to his boots, her small teeth grinding together as her voice emerged in a sharp hiss.
"My intellect genuinely fails to compute how an entity with your tactical density managed to break the guard of my brother Radahn across that lake... operating as the most noble Ancient Dragon currently drawing breath under the heavens, does your throat lack the basic biological capacity to breathe a simple fire?"
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