Camille de Chevreuse, the ever elusive prophet, the infamous prophet, the most beautiful prophet, and yet the ugliest prophet. It really is no exaggeration to say that those who attempt to harm him will see hell.
But what about those who actually manage to get past the point of just attempting— those who successfully caused this man some feeling of pain?
"Hey, why— why are you bleeding? The blade shouldn't have been able to harm you. It's a joke, that's all... hehe." Was he really so angry he was spitting blood? Izel didn't think that was possible. Spitting blood out of anger is just a figure of speech!
"Also, Gevaudan? Is that the name of one of your monsters? I didn't even know they had names... ha ha."
Camille's eyes were really shaking in their sockets as he laughed.
The drop of blood that had fallen on the ground shook with an eerie glow before suddenly expanding and stretching outwards into the forest.
"Oh Izel..." Camille's head swung back with madness permeating from his being. "The usual monsters come out when they sense their home is in danger. My entire body is a world of many things, and that simple drop of blood is a map— Gevaudan!"
The entire forest beneath her feet, surrounding her and the trees had turned into a different scene all together. Izel could see stars in the sky and a full moon, with a dark patch that revealed the true sky of the forest, before that patch also eventually closed up like everything else she could see.
Camille walked over to pick up a red bead from the ground when he soon realised that his clothes were as clean as ever.
"Tsk." He let out a scoff, checking his shirt again for the stain he swore was there a second ago, however he could only come to a conclusion that Izel had just faked the mark.
"What a bizarre method you've found, my lady." He looked into the red bead in his hand before throwing it nonchalantly behind him and marching forward, "Consider this payment for the next batch of clothes I'll be ordering.
In a while, Starlight."
———
'Izel Starlight— a Believer, a Concept Totem holder and a Charm smith. It is no wonder she has caught the eye of the heads of the other Sumeru lotus clans. If only... the heavens had blessed me with better luck.'
The golden skinned woman looked up, her ashen eyes glowing aggressively as she argued, "Remind me why we have to decide this over a stupid card game again?!"
The other Clan-heads of the Sumeru lotus looked up at her, then at each other, eventually all sighing as they shook their heads in resignation. They too were displeased with the results, but who would want to be in a real argument with the old hag.
"Ayaa~ Of all the people to harbour so much regret in their heart, it just had to be you, Karma. But there's plenty of fish in this pond, are there not? Hehe. Even if I'm the one who ends up catching the better ones."
Karma stood up from her seat with an unwillingness to back down, "Then let us stake another. But this time, with a challenge that I propose."
"Hmm." Dharma lifted her feet onto the table as she pondered. "Is there really someone else I would like to collect other than my Agony's Reply and the Endless Fault?"
Samsara added from the side, "Where The Monsters Sleep is obviously the best choice amongst all the options."
Moksha nodded, however added, "He does possess great Virtues and potential, but is very unpredictable, even for the likes of beings like us. Surely, The Inverted Grasp is the more practical choice."
The last one of the five mumbled with his face pressed against the table as it showed scenes of the ongoing anointment. He raised,
"Why is nobody talking about that child who entered the Grounds without following proper protocol?"
Dharma rose an eyebrow as she replied, "That is a curious fellow. But it— he is for the Grand-oracle to pass judgement upon. Or does anyone else but her know how to deal with creatures made by the Cyprus?"
———
"Sir Ivanhoe! We— we found another one." A middle aged man rushed to Ivan with a person on his back. This man had short white hair, dry chalky skin and amber eyes that just stayed wide open as they foamed out of their mouth and cried.
Ivanhoe had been recieving people like this strange man for a while now. Some of these chalky people came in better states before ending up on death's door for no discernable reason.
Nonetheless, Ivan had made notes. The better amber eyed people who they had come across would start with symptoms of hallucinations, imagining objects that weren't there. Then they would eventually start talking about events or lives that they obviously couldn't have lived— men talking about their husbands and the children they'd birthed; others looking for their parents in spirit infested places; and more asking for their king.
Not long after, they would succumb to despair the more time passed, eventually ending up unresponsive, in a state very much like this newcomer.
"Take him back to camp and have Esra informed."
At Ivanhoe's orders, the man nodded and did as he was asked, carrying the patient away.
Ivanhoe turned to the others with him, carrying a heavy look.
"There are too many suffering from this strange disease. So simply curing one of them at a time would be inefficient. But I have a clue as to where all of this madness originates. If I can strike that down, at the very least, it would prevent more people from having to go through this cruel fate."
The three looked at eachother, equally unsettled by what was happening yet nodding, wanting to get to the bottom of this matter and help their friends.
"This 'source' you're talking about, it's that beacon of light, isn't it Ivan?"
A woman nudged him as she corrected, "It's sir Ivan."
Ivan sighed, "Can you please stop telling people to call me that Anne?"
Anne moved closer and stretched her legs to whisper, "But you're from a high clan— one of the highest ones!"
"Ugh! Relax woman, the kid already says he doesn't mind." The same man rolled his eyes and folded his arms.
"The kid?! Show some respect Hans." The woman argued.
"Yeah yeah, the point is, I was right, wasn't I Ivan?" Hans asked, keeping his eyes on Anne's angry face.
Ivan gave no response, his eyes catching the bored look of the other woman standing in front of him. She shrugged.
"... Anyway, let's split up into four directions— you three going along the paths that haven't been checked yet, while I head for the crimson beacon. Flutter's Virtue will make it possible to communicate our findings. And if anyone needs assistance, you know what to do." Ivan briefed.
Hans folded his arms and nodded. "Sounds like a plan even I could have come up with. Still, great job looking out, kid."
"Thanks." Ivan laughed, amused by the expression on Anne's face. Why was she the one who was getting angry?
After a while of dealing with matters back at the camp and ensuring that everyone else had enough sustainance to last them for a while, the four of them split up accordingly.
Ivanhoe's steps quickened the further he went from the camp, eventually turning into short sprints— his red hair fluttering in the wind, his blue eyes gleaming with excitement and his freckled cheeks puffed up as he smiled brightly. Before long, his feet left the ground and he rose into the air.
"Whoo!" He cried out, embracing freedom and leaving all earthly worries down on the ground. The descendant of a great high clan travelled with a demeanor unfitting of his family's name, much less the severity of the situation his motley crew was in.
"Oh sweet sweet sky. Your child is here once again, begging for your soft embrace." He closed his eyes as he sang, spinning and swerving in the air.
The farther he left everything else, the less his worries bound him. Alas, Ivanhoe Sullivan is still a Sullivan. If that title which kept him grounded and disciplined was not enough to become a Virtue of his, nothing else would qualify.
The man soon found himself unable to fly any higher. His eyes still closed and his smile receding, the man knew in his heart that escape was futile. Dark clouds shaped like spirits dragged him down from the sky— those spirits also being pulled down to the earth by even heavier clouds.
Ivan struggled just a little to stay in the air, before being pulled quickly downwards, the spirits slamming his body onto the canopy of trees and making him crash on the rocky ground.
Ivanhoe pressed his palms against the ground and pushed himself out of the ground. Summoning his Instrument Totem — a black tray with red swirls around it— he drew out a dagger soaked in a thick red liquid and stabbed it into his neck.
"Tss!" Ivan hissed in pain, the wounds and scars on his body closing and healing up gradually.
Taking a few seconds to rest, he soon stood up and walked over to the thin amber eyed man on the floor. He tilted his head. This one looked somewhat different from the rest, but Ivan couldn't tell what made it seem that way. He just had a feeling.
Pulling out another red dagger from within the tray, he threw it down into the strange person's neck. However, before the blade could stab into where it was thrown, it was grasped by the hand of the very person Ivan wished to save.