Chapter 62: His Borrowed Time

The mental whisper faded, but the System exploded in front of him.

[CRITICAL ALERT: BIOLOGICAL INTRUSION DETECTED]

[TARGET: SPIRITUAL CORE]

[MANA SOURCE: IDENTICAL TO ENTITY “THE SHADOW” (ST. CELESTE CHAPEL)]

It wasn’t a random infection and it wasn’t a residue of generic black magic either.

That thing in the Chapel, the one Arawn had tried to kill, had left him a parting gift.

He tried to summon the [Paragon’s Light] to purge it, an instinctive survival reaction, but the System spat a blood-red error at him.

[FATAL ERROR: PARAGON BLOCKED BY CORRUPTION]

[CORE STATUS: 5% CONTAMINATED]

[ESTIMATED TIME UNTIL PERMANENT DEATH: 719 HOURS]

Thirty days.

An exact month before that thing ate his soul and turned him into an empty puppet.

The infirmary door burst open.

BAM!

Raziel jumped in the bed, heart racing, waiting for an Inquisitor or Death itself.

But it was Lucian.

The noble entered with his face red with fury and Lara came behind, pale but with clenched fists.

“I thought I told you guys to get lost,” Raziel grumbled, although the relief of not being alone almost made him vomit.

“And I decided I don’t give a shit what you say,” Lucian replied, kicking the door shut. “You are not going to die alone in this stinking room while we wait outside like idiots so speak up. How bad is it?”

Raziel sighed and let himself fall against the pillow.

He didn’t have energy to keep up the mask anymore.

“It’s a Shadow parasite,” he admitted, looking at the cracked ceiling. “It feeds on my core. The System, I mean… my magic says I have a month.”

Lara covered her mouth with her hands, but Lucian didn’t even blink.

“Thirty days? That’s enough time to find a solution. We can’t trust the Church healers, if Thomas couldn’t, nobody here will be able to without reporting you to the Inquisition.”

Lucian paced back and forth, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“Anya,” he said suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks. “You said she knows ancient remedies, things the Church banned centuries ago. If anyone can get that thing out of you without alerting Marius’s dogs, it’s her.”

Raziel shook his head.

“She is too far away, Lucian and we don’t know if her herbs will work, we need something stronger.”

Then Lara spoke, her voice trembling.

“A Purifier.”

Raziel and Lucian turned their heads toward her at the same time.

“What did you say?” asked Raziel, feeling a chill.

Lara swallowed hard and took a step forward.

“When I was waiting outside Sister Elena’s office… before Lucian found the diary. I heard her talking to someone, but she was upset and said the ’Purifier’ at the St. Sophia Sanatorium was ready, but needed more fuel.”

Raziel felt the puzzle pieces clicking together in his mind.

[CLUE OBTAINED: THE ST. SOPHIA PURIFIER]

St. Sophia.

The place where Elena sent the “problematic” students.

The place where Lara was going to be sent.

It was a trap, obviously.

But if Elena had an artifact capable of purifying or extracting energy at that level, it was the only real chance Raziel had to get the parasite out without dying in the process.

“It’s ironic,” Raziel muttered. “The place we must avoid the most is the only place that can save me.”

He calculated the odds.

They were shit.

But they were better than zero.

“Thirty days,” Raziel repeated, looking at his trembling hand. “It’s more time than I had last time.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Lucian frowned, his instinct activating instantly.

“What last time?”

Raziel froze.

The fever and stress had loosened his tongue.

He didn’t answer.

He just stared at the wall, while the counter in his retina went down one more second.

[719 HOURS, 59 MINUTES, 58 SECONDS]

Inside, Raziel cursed his own stupidity.

He had become careless, too comfortable with them, it was a mistake that in another life would have cost him his head.

’Shit! Think… Use his worry against him.’

He forced a dry and painful cough that shook his whole body.

“It means,” he said with a raspy voice, “that the last time I felt something like this, I ended up in a crypt with a necromancer trying to sacrifice me. Does that answer work for you? Or do you prefer we keep wasting time while this thing devours me from the inside?”

Guilt hit Lucian and his fury deflated instantly.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away.

“No… I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Raziel nodded, accepting the apology without saying anything.

He had won the round.

Now, to the plan.

“St. Sophia is a trap, we know that,” he said, his voice regaining a bit of firmness. “Elena isn’t going to hand over her ’Purifier’ kindly. We need to get in, find it and get out before she realizes we were there, for that, Lucian, I need your last name.”

Lucian looked up, his mind already working again.

“I think my father has properties near the sanatorium. We could use one as a base of operations and I can get blueprints, supply routes…”

“Exactly,” Raziel cut him off. “And you, Lara…”

His ability to sense emotions was a double-edged sword, but in a place as corrupt as St. Sophia, it could be his only early warning.

“I need you to be my eyes, my ears and you will sense if we get close to a trap.”

Lara nodded although she looked like a scared bunny.

The plan was suicidal madness, but it was the only one they had.

***

Meanwhile, at the main entrance of St. Celeste Academy, the sound of horse hooves on the cobblestones broke the silence of the afternoon.

A lone rider, covered in dust and sweat, stopped abruptly in front of the huge iron gates. His horse snorted, exhausted.

The man wasn’t a noble or a cleric.

He was a royal messenger, and his face was tense with urgency.

The academy guards, used to the monotonous routine, approached slowly.

“Business?” asked one of them, without much interest.

The messenger dismounted with a jump and showed them a scroll closed with a red wax seal.

The emblem of the royal house.

“Urgent message for Father Marius! From the Palace!”

The guard went stiff.

“Prince Aerion,” said the messenger, his voice trembling from fatigue and fear. “He hasn’t returned and it’s been three days. The King demands answers now.”

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