"Tis good to be back in Veron after the whole debacle in that stuffy cave," Astrid mused, taking in the still vibrant city life around them.
Mikoto grunted in agreement, his eyes lingering elsewhere for a moment. "I'm guessing we'll have to meet up with Guinevere so we can get rid of the rest of these Astrothians."
"That's right..." Breaking her silence, Mai spoke, still throwing cautious glances Mikoto's way. "But Mikoto, are you feeling well?"
"I am. Why wouldn't I be?" He questioned with a tilt of his head. ("Seems like she might be aware of where I really ended up. Odd my mana should be hidden, and I don't sense any kind of difference in my body. But then again, she is using that odd power of hers. It's more refined than pure mana but less destructive. Even so, it's a foreign power, so maybe she has a way to detect the unseen.")
"It's just that you-"
"I'm fine, really," Mikoto interrupted. He doubted Astrid's heart could handle that he was sent to the Abyss due to her. She was just too kind for her own good. "Anyway, you two go on ahead without me. I need to do something real quick."
Astrid tilted her head at Mikoto's request. "Well alright, take your time, Mikoto. We'll relay how our hunt went with Lady Guinevere." Mikoto nodded as Astrid gestured for Mai to follow her. The woman cast one last glance at Mikoto before walking off.
Left alone, Mikoto turned on his heel and walked in the direction of the white cobblestone building he had seen earlier. Pushing past the weathered wooden doors, he was witness to quite a somber sight. It was a wide space without furniture, just the stale wooden floor.
("Futons?") Mikoto noted. Numerous white futons were strewn about on the floor. Atop them were the people he had seen before, some still in their tattered white uniforms, while others attended to them. There were also stairs leading to a second floor, no doubt more of these people were there.
Of course, his entrance gained some attention. The people in the white uniforms stared at him with apprehension. The ominous armor did not help his case as he took another step inside the building. He took note of a woman rushing towards him with a powerful stride. She seemed middle-aged, dressed in an outfit reminiscent of a nurse's uniform. Only it seemed a lot more elaborate, navy blue in color and adorned with patches of black. The woman had long chestnut brown hair and eyes, a heart-shaped cute face, but what stood out most were the rabbit ears atop her head, seemingly blending in with her hair.
"Uhm, sir, this is a restricted area," she voiced, a nervous undertone lacing her words as she stared at him with a hint of fear. "We're tending to wounded individuals, and you're contaminating the space."
"Relax, rabbit lady, I'm here to help."
"R-rabbit lady?" The woman echoed incredulously. "Listen, sir, I am a proud Lepus native to Bushido! I am not merely a rabbit lady!" She exclaimed, the outburst drawing the attention of the injured and those attending to them. They stared at her incredulously; she was talking so boldly with such an ominous-looking individual.
("Ah, shit, she's from the east? If she's anything like the elders back home, I'm in for a earful.") Mikoto cleared his throat. "Ah, my bad." Mikoto gave a formal bow, bending his torso to a 30-degree angle. "Mikoto Yukio, a pleasure, and I'm here to help."
She blinked rapidly, realization quickly sinking in upon hearing his name. "O-oh, you're from the east as well?" Her personality took a 180-degree turn as she smiled politely, giving a small but formal bow. "A pleasure, Yukio-kun. It seems I'm your senior based on how young you sound. I am Aoi Honoka."
"Honoka-sama, apologies for the rude behavior earlier. But I couldn't help but notice all the injured here. I'm quite the advanced sorcerer with an expertise in healing arts, so I was wondering if I could help, see?" Mikoto explained.
"Oh? I presumed you were another member they've sent from the Church of Isadora, despite your ominous attire," Honoka smiled politely. "Though it would be unprofessional, we honestly could use all the help we can get. Things have been difficult." She admitted with a sigh, gesturing to the various injured behind her. "Many of them are missing limbs, and most of their wounds are already infected. Our healing pace simply cannot keep up."
"Where did this many injured even come from?" Mikoto could not help but wonder.
"A young man in black delivered them to our church. He first arrived with over a hundred, and then he came back with many more. We had to rent out this building just to attend to them all because the church could not house everyone," she sighed. "Though it will be difficult, we aim to tend to all of them. The advanced healing arts it would take to heal this many people..." She trailed off.
"I can handle it. I've got no reason to be hostile, look." Mikoto raised his right hand slightly, a green glow illuminated his gauntleted palm. Something rapidly began taking shape, its form coming together in an instant. A green ethereal translucent butterfly flew from his grasp with a mind of its own. Gliding gracefully towards an injured man with numerous deep gashes littering his body, he slightly recoiled at the sight of the butterfly as it landed on his nose. Its form disassembled into a large vibrant light that engulfed the man. The effects were instantaneous as the light died down quickly, his notable wounds absent. All looked at Mikoto somewhat awestruck.
"A healing construct, such an advanced level too..." Honoka looked on, thoroughly convinced. She looked back at the boy; with such ominous armor, the last thing you would expect from such an individual was help. Still, she would admit she was a tad biased, seeing as she assumed this boy hailed from the east as well. "Alright, I'll show you to our most injured."
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[Galadriel]
[Capital City]
Knowledge, in its purest form, is the acquisition of information and the understanding of its implications. It's more than just memorization; it's the ability to analyze, synthesize, and apply information to navigate the complexities of the realm. This pursuit of knowledge is the cornerstone of superiority.
Knowledge provides one with the tools to understand and control the environment. To learn to predict weather patterns, harness energy, and cultivate food, allowing one to thrive in a world that would otherwise be hostile. Knowledge fuels ingenuity. Through inquiry and advancements, to constantly push the boundaries of what's possible, shaping the future. Knowledge empowers us by understanding the consequences of actions. In a rapidly changing world, knowledge is the greatest asset. It allows one to adapt to challenges, overcome obstacles, and thrive in the face of uncertainty.
Yet some would say knowledge was not absolute. He would agree, for wisdom would reign supreme. Wisdom was not about knowing everything; it was about knowing what mattered. It was about merely picking the wisest options, not letting pride or other emotions cloud judgment. Wisdom was everything.
The atmosphere of the capital city of Galadriel was almost serene despite the attack of his brethren not long ago.
His black robe billowed in the wind, his feet planted atop the church worshipping Octavia. It was grand in its design, its spires reaching towards the heavens, piercing the clouds like fingers, their stonework gleaming and sleek in the sunlight. The cathedral's exterior was a piece of Gothic architecture, decorated with stained glass windows depicting scenes of the warrior Goddess's heroic deeds. The statue atop its highest spire was the center. The statue, a magnificent sculpture of the ethereal warrior Goddess, stood tall and proud, her feathered helmet obscuring her face, but her ethereal blade held aloft in her hand.
He stood leisurely atop the statue's blade, a display of arrogance and what some may consider blasphemy. The Ancestor of Wisdom, Aelfric, gazed down at the masses blankly.
"Such a fickle race, they've not changed in the least since my last voyage here," The Ancestor mused to himself. He found this era boring; he reveled in the bloodshed of the great war in the Age of Gods. Things now, while not peaceful, were rather mundane. ("I've but my hatred for dear Lyra and Octavia to fuel me.")
"Back to the belly of the beast, so soon?" He suddenly heard a voice above him. He did not seem surprised, however. Aelfric leisurely threw a glance at the head of the statue. Gracefully perched atop it stood his brethren, her arms folded and red eyes piercing his being.
"Rhiannon, I'd say it's quite nice to see you, but I don't like lying." He joked with a snort directed at the golden woman.
"I'll not waste my time ripping out your tongue for that talk. Do be grateful, cur." She sneered down at him.
"I am so very grateful," He gave a mocking bow. "So here to see if this era's people hold a hidden beauty."
Rhiannon clicked her tongue in annoyance. "That ability of yours is bothersome. So you know of my deal, huh? Then how about making proper use of that power, the Inheritor of Strength, Dante. Who is he? I know that he is someone from the age of Gods, yet my memories are fractured due to my battle with the Forsaken One. Not to mention the Fate Walker's soul within me is irksome."
Aelfric gave a smile, it not quite reaching his eyes. "It's quite the coincidence, but he was a companion of your dear Morrigan."
"You forget yourself," Rhiannon's eyes narrowed into slits. "I do not want to hear her name be spoken by filth like you."
"Oh dear, my apologies, Rhiannon." The Ancestor of Wisdom gave another mocking bow. Rhiannon seemed on the verge of lashing out, so he quickly spoke. "The Blood Starved Knight, that's the identity of the 'Inheritor of Strength'." He informed.
"The Blood Starved Knight," Rhiannon's eyes slightly widened at that. "I see..." An unreadable expression adorned her face.
"The one who raked up the most massacres in the Great War." Aelfric chuckled as if finding something amusing. "Even the Gods were not safe from his thirst for their golden ichor. Honestly, that a wild beast like him lingers around, I find myself more on edge. I care not even for the offspring of Vagnir." He admitted.
"Hmph, do make sure not to make a bother of yourself. With a Primordial One like Astrea's spawn prancing about, you'll be hard-pressed."
Aelfric glanced back as those words left Rhiannon's mouth, only to see the woman gone, as if she were never there to begin with. He shrugged to himself as he gazed back at the city streets, his eyes lingering on a particular person with a head of long snow-white hair.
"Ah, the spawn of that filth."