Yuna looked out from her dorm window. The rain poured ceaselessly, the steady curtain of water blurring the world beyond. A barrier had been erected around the academy and dorms on the second day after the downpour began.
Students had started dressing in heavier layers to ward off the cold. Yuna followed suit, though not out of necessity. Her body, a pure elemental structure, adapted seamlessly to any temperature. She felt the chill, yes, but it could not cling to her as it did to others. Nor did the shifting concentration of elements in the air affect her.
Walking down the hallway, Yuna wondered how her book—and the one her Heart Class had published—were faring outside. She hadn't yet read her classmates' work, for reasons she had no desire to dwell on.
...….
"We've arrived at the Lalrem Empire, Celestial Maiden."
"Indeed." The Celestial Maiden of the Celestial Tower inclined her head, her gray eyes lingering on the window.
The night sky should have been bright with stars, yet the endless rain smothered them, veiling the heavens.
"Once we reach the capital, we should be safe. A barrier will be in place there."
It was only within the capitals of each kingdom that barriers strong enough to ward off natural phenomena were erected.
"This rain…" She fell silent, her brows furrowed. "It should be avoided. Tell the coach to find an inn. We will remain until it ceases."
"Is there a problem with the rain, my lady?" the knight asked cautiously, curiosity slipping into his concern.
"Perhaps." She offered nothing more.
Those of the Celestial Tower had long since learned that her intuition was rarely mistaken. Without hesitation, he obeyed, summoning a dome of shimmering light to shield them from the rainfall.
....
"Cough—cough—cough…"
The First Prince's frail body shook as another fit seized him.
Butler Zei stood at his side, steady and attentive, while the imperial doctor finished his examination.
"This year's rain…" The prince's voice was hoarse, ragged. "It's heavier than last year's."
"Indeed, Your Highness."
"It hasn't stopped since it began. Nearly a month now." His chest rose with a wheeze, another cough following. "Zei… don't you think something is amiss?"
"This servant cannot say for certain. But… the rain is highly suspicious."
"Suspicious, yes…" His lips pressed into a thin line. "Yet I cannot grasp where the strangeness lies. Has the Alchemist completed its study of the rainwater?"
"Not yet, Your Highness. But the results are expected tomorrow."
"…Good." The prince leaned back against his pillows, his breath shallow but his gaze sharp. "That is good."
....
The elder of the Imperial Alchemist sat rigidly, his brows drawn deep as he read the results of the rainwater tests. Each line seemed to press more heavily on him.
"Prepare the carriage. Immediately. Take me to the palace," he ordered without hesitation.
The report was delivered swiftly. Within the palace, the First Prince's pale hands skimmed over the parchment, his expression darkening with every word.
"All the rainwater in the Lalrem Empire is… contaminated?"
"That seems to be the case, Your Highness."
His voice was quiet, but sharp with tension. "What are the effects?"
"Exposure to the rain of this month for a week will induce sickness, Your Highness."
The prince fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he pieced the implication together. "Then… outside the capital—where no barriers stand—our people will fall into mass illness?"
"I'm afraid so, Your Highness."
"Can it be cured?"
"Yes, but…" The elder hesitated.
The prince exhaled slowly. "But with the numbers this vast, the apothecary stores of the cities and villages cannot possibly hold enough medicine."
As expected, the areas with greater populations suffered the worst. The rainwater had become poison, and even with warnings issued, the disaster could not be averted.
Water, the very thing falling endlessly from the sky, became unusable. Villages and towns soon faced shortages. Healers were in overwhelming demand, while mages worked without rest to purify water for consumption. Apothecarists and alchemists scrambled to study the illness, striving to produce potions that could counteract both the disease and the tainted rain.
But their numbers were far too few. Among the empire's vast population, only one in ten thousand awakened with supernatural ability. Of those, healers accounted for a mere fraction—0.0001%—rarer still than mages.
Supply could never match the demand.
And worse, the sickness spread with frightening ease. A cough, a drop of saliva, even close contact could pass it on. Headaches, bone-deep fatigue, and aching muscles were the first signs, followed swiftly by the body's collapse.
It was an artificial plague carried by the sky itself.
Erecting a barrier over every city in the empire was possible—if they were willing to burn through the treasury's supply of mana stones. Yet each stone could last no more than a week before it burned out, and the rain was predicted to continue for an entire month.
It placed the empire in a grave predicament. To use the mana stones now meant that, should war suddenly break out, they would be left without the very resources needed to arm their forces.
…..
A deep furrow etched itself into the First Prince's expression. His health, already fragile, worsened as his worries mounted.
"Your Highness," Butler Zei spoke softly, "The Child of Light, the Holy See, seeks an audience with you."
The prince paused before answering, his breath shallow. "…Bring him in."
The Holy See—Pope of the Temple of Light. The First Prince had met him only twice, but both encounters had altered the course of the Lalrem Empire.
The first time, he had stripped the Elysian Kingdom's Light God Temple of its influence by re-establishing the Temple within the Lalrem Empire. The second, he had spread an entirely new doctrine—teaching not of the God of Light, but of Light itself. Within a year, his influence had grown to frightening proportions.
Already, the people had begun to convert seamlessly from the God to the Light. His words carried conviction, and the Light Scepter—artifact of divine recognition—responded to him without fail. To the masses, he was irrefutable. Everywhere he went, so-called "miracles of Light" followed.
Yet beneath that brilliance, the man was twisted. A zealot, perverse in his faith, willing to do anything to further it. As a wielder of Light, his obsession made him terrifyingly strong. To oppose him was to invite ruin. That was the first prince sincere evaluation of him.
For now, however, he and the Empire stood in uneasy collaboration. His doctrines brought no harm, only benefit—soft where the God of Light's church had once been rigid, generous where the old temple had been disdainful. Thus the First Prince tolerated him. But Lucion Arien's ever-growing influence left a bitter taste in the mouths of royalty.
Footsteps echoed against the marble floor of the bedchamber. Golden eyes met amethyst as Lucion stepped forward.
"Your Highness," he greeted smoothly.
The First Prince lifted a brow. "What brings you here, Your Holiness?"
"The Empire seems to be in dire straits of late." Lucion's smile was slight, unreadable. "I wondered if Your Highness might require… help?"
The prince remained silent, thoughtful. A long minute passed before he spoke again. "…What does Your Holiness want?"
A flicker passed through Lucion's golden eyes at the directness of the question. Rather than answering outright, he said mildly, "Our temple's priests and priestesses wish to aid the sick and purify the water in your cities. If we were permitted to build temples, they would have places to stay, and places of prayer to strengthen their faith. It would be far more convenient."
The prince's gaze sharpened. Sly fox.
Even the believers of the old Light God had failed to persuade him to authorize temples beyond the capital. Yet Lucion had chosen his timing well.
Tsk.
He had no choice but to compromise. But not without conditions.
"Very well. But first—let us sign a peace contract."
The prince had prepared for this moment. From the beginning of the plague, he had anticipated Lucion's move. The healers under his banner were unmatched in purification and healing. Unlike awakened ability users, they bore stigmata of Light itself—marks that corresponded to their faith, granting them portions of divine power.
Their stigmata were stronger, more radiant, than those borne by the old God of Light's followers. Strong enough to stir whispers: perhaps the divinity worshipped by the Temple of Light was greater than the God of Light Himself.