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[Villian] Book 2 - Chapter 40: Plague Doctor
🕑 Added 2025-06-26 01:43:50 +0000 UTC“Those are quite some injuries, scion of the Yaeldrin.”
Kharis suppressed a scream as the elderly man rammed his fingers into one of the deeper stab wounds he had self-inflicted on his leg. The old man stared at him with a fake reassuring smile. “Now relax and open your mana circuit for this old man… Let me help you!” Then with a chuckle, he added, “For a fee, of course.”
Kharis ignored the healer’s words as he lowered his mana circuits’ guard and let the healer’s Life affinity mana wash away the pain. Instead, he was focused on the burning building that warmed the night sky with its roaring blaze. His one remaining guard lay on the floor screaming, his suit having melted onto his skin, and his face was raw with charred flesh.
Nobody went to help him—the cost and effort one of these stuck-up healers would have to expend to fix his burns would be astronomical. Far greater than any mere guard could afford… Despite his pain, Kharis hailed over another white-cloaked person, this time a woman. She bore the healer guild’s crest, a golden sun wrapped in green.
“Heal that man. I’ll pay,” Kharis said as he nodded toward his last remaining guard. The woman gave him an odd look like one would give a person paying astronomical amounts at the vet to keep a dying dog alive. It was half pity, half judgmental as if he had a screw loose.
Kharis felt pathetic, but he still had his wealth. Being looked down on like that by a healer made him sick to his stomach. He exercised his authority over his spatial ring and summoned a platinum bar in his hand. With a careless gesture, he chucked it at the woman’s feet with a clang. The judgmental healer had owl eyes as she stared at the platinum bar resting against her feet.
“Heal him,” Kharis repeated. “By order of the Yaeldrin, you will join his fate if he is not healed. Do I make myself clear?”
The cogs seemed to run in the healer’s head until she tore her sights from the money and gave Kharis a once-over. To be fair, the blood, guts, and sorry state he was in greatly changed his image, but that tone of voice and distinct green hair… “Oh! Mr. Yaeldrin, my humble apologies for not recognizing you sooner!” She bowed, picked up the payment, and scurried off.
“Tsk.” Kharis concentrated back on his surroundings. I need to keep that guard alive. At least until my family arrives. Otherwise, my one witness that can testify under Truth magic will be gone.
On that thought, bells began to ring throughout the city. Kharis enjoyed the numbing sensation of the healer’s mana throughout his body as his skin stitched itself together, leaving only a nasty scar behind. Of course, Kharis could get the blemishes removed like he had in the past to maintain the perfect-looking body that he believed every young master should possess. But that was the old Kharis—it was time for a change. The scars would remind him of his past weakness.
Lying back slightly, Kharis ran a hand through his sweat and soot-filled hair and stared at the dusty night sky. For a moment, the bells, people’s screams, and the populace’s rushing feet faded into the background. Even the sociopathic healers trying to extort every coin from the dying became numb to his mind.
“STEP BACK,” a distorted voice cried from the skies.
Kharis felt someone grab his arms and roughly drag him back to the opposite pavement from his burning establishment, just in time to miss the tsunami of pressurized water that cascaded down and suffocated the flames. Freezing murky water reached Kharis’s leg, dampening his trousers before gushing down the gutter.
The water then rose again in a tornado and funneled back toward a floating figure in the sky, donning an utterly black hazard suit with a long beak mask that provided ventilation to the person inside. They were known as the city cleaners…but were, in fact, far more ominous than their name suggested. Cleaning meant everything: trash, fires, and even people.
They brought misery and salvation to the citizens, making them hard to deal with. Kharis had personally run into them a few times, but even the city cleaners had to bow before the power of the Yaeldrin clan.
“Body sighted!” the distorted voice rang out, and one of the other city cleaners dived down like a vulture, using wind magic to push away the debris and secure Akna’s corpse—it was severely burned, making it hard to even recognize the bundle of roasted meat as a human corpse.
Perfect. Kharis suppressed a grin and put on a fake expression of utter grief. The leader of the city cleaners seemed to recognize Kharis and floated down.
“Boy. What happened here?”
Kharis could see his miserable state reflected in the city cleaners’ goggles. The distorted voice and the somewhat intimidating appearance gave the city cleaners another name—the plague doctors, although they hated that name as it gave them a bad image. City cleaners sounded much more honorable and helped hide the dirty work they conducted for the royal family and nobles behind a facade.
Damien Nightshade wanted chaos? Well, he was about to get it.
“Sir…I was with my sister in my establishment when a terrible fire broke out. Then, in the middle of the panic, we tried to escape through the only exit, but alas, some heinous beast stood in our way! Akna tried to stand up against it, as she was the strongest mage present, but she was torn to shreds by its claws! I think it might have been a werewolf!”
The plague doctor looked back at the corpse and made a noise similar to a groan of annoyance. The man then turned back to Kharis and asked very slowly, “Is that Akna Yaeldrin? Be sure of your answer.”
“Of course.” Kharis pretended to hold back his grief. “S-she was my sister. How could I wrongfully claim the death of my sister?”
“Shit, shit, shit.” The plague doctor stamped the ground three times while cursing the gods above. “Ahhhhhh!”
Kharis relished in the rare chance of seeing a plague doctor so distressed. The king’s birthday was in a few days, and it was their job to keep the city clean of anything dangerous that shouldn’t belong. To hear that a powerful beast had infiltrated and managed to kill the Yaeldrin clan’s princess was terrible news.
They had failed their jobs, which could spell a death sentence. Dressed-up thugs were only valuable to their owner if they did their job—otherwise, they served no purpose.
The plague doctor angrily marched across the damp street and stood over the corpse with his hands on his hips. All plague doctors were dual mages, usually in wind and water to allow them to fly quickly to locations, and water was very versatile, perfect for putting out fires and great for fighting while confined inside a city. Fire magic was too risky as it could spread quickly, and Earth magic tended to damage buildings and roads.
The mask-wearing man raised his black-gloved hands, and water sprouted out of a spatial ring. It was a common requirement that Water mages had a large store of water on them in a spatial ring, allowing them to conserve much of their mana.
Creating water from the droplets in the air required far too much concentration and mana to be reasonable for large-scale spells such as the one the man used to put out the inferno a minute ago.
The cleaner directed the water to carefully wash the body of soot so he could see the corpse clearly. “Ack! Not good!” The man’s distorted voice rang through the street. “It’s really her!” The plague doctor turned to his companion, “Inform the king! A werewolf is on the loose!”
Kharis breathed a small sigh of relief—he hadn’t gutted his sister for nothing. He had hoped with the fire damaging her body enough, it would be hard to tell if the three wounds down her body were from a dagger or claws. It seemed his bet had paid off.
However, Kharis tensed back up as he saw a man wade through the crowd that had encircled the smoldering remains of his brothel—his family had arrived.
***
Olympia snuck up on a lit window and perched herself just below its windowsill before pressing her ear against the cold stone wall.
“A werewolf? In Kassinki?”
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s an order from the Yaeldrin clan.”
“Huh? What do the bastards from that clan have to do with this?”
“Apparently, their princess has been killed.”
“Oh…oh no.”
The voices were all a jumbled mess, but Olympia got what she needed…a hook to reel a guard away. Ruffling up her hair and clothes and depositing one of her shoes in a spatial ring, Olympia hyped herself up, hyperventilated to appear out of breath, and then stumbled to the gatekeeper's door.
“Guards! Guards! Help!” she cried as she banged on the wooden door. “My father…we got attacked!”
Olympia heard rustling from within as men wearing some armor tried to quickly shuffle to the door. After the sound of a latch being removed, the door swung wide open, and Olympia squinted as candlelight backlit three concerned-looking knights.
“A young noble lady?” One of the knights looked her up and down.
“Please!” Olympia threw herself at the nearest one, keeping her face down to avoid them seeing her fangs. “My father! Something massive and beastly came through our garden and attacked my dear father as he was having some late-night tea by the pond!”
The knight who was suffocated under the lady clicked his tongue and pushed her off. “Fine, fine. Lead the way.” He then shouted over his shoulder, “We’re going werewolf hunting, boys!” A joking cheer broke out, followed by laughter.
Olympia used her dangling strawberry-blond hair as curtains to hide a sneer. According to Damien, these pompous royal knights, sons of the nobles, paraded around the noble district in their fancy armor to feel important. Since it would be the last place to get attacked in the city, nobody questioned if they were skilled enough for the job.
Three knights suited up and hilariously let Olympia take the lead up the winding cobbled street. Grand mansions fronted with beautiful gardens flanked the avenue. The noble district was deathly silent despite the bellowing smoke over the city and the constant bells.
“Do you really believe the werewolf would be dumb enough to test the nobles?” a knight asked his companions.
“Good point. Hey, little girl, who is your father anyway?” the most boisterous of the knights shouted after the back of the girl that confidently led them to the higher nobles’ area, and then he licked his lips. “Never seen a pretty thing like you at any of my sister’s tea parties.”
Olympia acted distressed and increased her pace. “My father is Duke Ferdinand.”
All three knights faltered their steps for a second. “Are you messing with us? Is he really in trouble?”
“I don’t know! He was fighting the beast off when he shouted for me to get help!” Olympia answered while stomping her feet and increasing her pace. “I have remembered all three of your faces—either you help me confirm if my dear father is okay, or you will all be decapitated by tomorrow morning, so help me god!”
The knights silently nodded to each other. Nobles were given noble titles partially due to their heritage…but also their strength. Duke Ferdinand was one of the strongest in the capital… If he died, then they were all dead anyway.
Hurried taps of metal boots echoed through the empty street as the three knights chased after the sprinting girl. Within minutes they arrived at the top of the road, where a single house sat proudly. Its golden gates were enchanted with so many runes that it was practically blinding.
A butler standing patiently beyond the gate staring at the moon was startled as three knights, and an unknown girl arrived. “Butler, we have come to check on Duke Ferdinand, his…daughter?” The knight looked at Olympia, and she nodded. “Right, his daughter came running to us and said he was under attack.”
The aged butler furrowed his brows at the group. “Attacked? Heavens no, the lord is peacefully asleep in his chambers. His daughter went missing long ago…wait.”
The butler looked Olympia up and down and gasped. “You look so similar to her… Let me get the lord this instant!” A strong breeze surrounded the butler as he bolted to the mansion’s entrance with the help of Wind magic.
The knights all gave Olympia a strange look but dared not voice their concerns. Hopefully, Duke Ferdinand was fine, and if they brought back his lost daughter, was that not a massive plus next to their names?
A man with blond hair, still in a dressing gown and slippers, emerged and ran down the path to the gate, never taking his eyes off Olympia. “Baby? Is that you? Did you finally come back?” Tears streamed down the duke’s face as he reached the gate and placed his hand on the enchantments to remove the protections.
The gate swung open, and the duke, a tall man with long blond hair and serious brown eyes, looked Olympia up and down. “You aren’t my baby—”
A bang echoed through the empty night, and the duke’s head exploded, showering everyone in gray sludge and blood. A tall man wearing a suit emerged from the shadow of a nearby tree that lined the street and held a golden smoking weapon in his hand.
“Evening, gentlemen.”
Comments
NeoJungleLover
Cold blooded as it gets. Is he cold? Undead usually are
Marin Schmidt
Tyftc
