"Two years. That’s all I can tell you. As for why it’s accelerated, I think you already know the reason."
"...."
Vanitas listened carefully, unbothered by his personal doctor Yves’s words. He wasn’t surprised at all. It was most likely the ti he had spent in the Rivers of Fate that caused his terminal illness to progress this far.
"At this stage," Yves continued, his voice quieter now, "I can only advise you to live your life to the fullest."
There was a bitter edge to his tone, and his eyes carried a glint of regret—like soone who had already lost sothing irreplaceable.
Vanitas looked at him for a mont before speaking.
"You’ve been keeping things from . I get it, and I respect that. I wouldn’t want to antagonize you, Yves."
He paused.
"But now feels like the right ti to ask... What was your relationship with my mother?"
There was a mont of silence.
Yves was caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Vanitas to ask so directly, nor did he think the boy knew of the connection. But the surprise disappeared quickly as it appeared.
When he truly thought about it, the answer was simple.
Because he was Vanitas Astrea.
"Where should I start?" Yves murmured.
And with that, he began to speak, this ti without holding anything back. Though he admitted there were still things he couldn’t rember, he did his best to recount the truth.
"Clarice and I t back at the Silver University Tower. She was already close friends with Roxanne by then."
Roxanne, his wife.
There wasn’t anything romantic about their beginnings, nor any fateful spark or love at first sight. It was simply that they shared many of the sa lectures. They were all pursuing the sa major, and through that, Yves naturally got to know Roxanne.
And knowing Roxanne inevitably ant becoming familiar with Clarice, Vanitas’s mother.
"Through that connection, the three of us basically did everything together," Yves continued. "And it wasn’t long before we beca acquainted with our senior, Empress Julia."
"...."
Vanitas swallowed hard. Just hearing that na tugged at sothing deep within him. Sothing he didn’t care to explain.
"We were offered an internship," Yves went on, "and that turned into our full-ti job after graduation."
Vanitas nodded slowly, listening.
They had been brought into a research facility owned by Julia Barielle. At the ti, she wasn’t yet the Imperial Queen, though she was already engaged to Emperor Decadien. Even after their marriage, Julia continued her work at the facility for many years.
Yves spoke steadily, recounting every detail he could rember about Clarice.
"She was a beautiful woman. If I’d t her before my wife, I probably would’ve fallen for her instead."
"...."
Vanitas ignored the remark.
"Anyway, on certain days, she brought you to work," Yves added. "That usually happened when no one was ho to watch over you."
"I presu that was every day?"
"Yes."
Vanitas looked up, eyes narrowing "Did any of you know about my biological father?"
Yves shook his head. "No, but we knew sothing was wrong with their marriage. As her friends, we tried to talk her into divorcing him... but it didn’t go anywhere."
He paused.
"But in the end..."
"He died," Vanitas said flatly.
"...Yes."
"I killed him."
"...."
"Continue," Vanitas urged.
Yves took a breath. "After that, your mother fell into... depression, I’d say."
And with that, Yves continued, elaborating on what followed after Clarice’s husband died.
Not long after his death, she began to fall into a deep depression. Whether it was so form of Stockholm syndro or sothing else entirely, no one could say for certain. Not even Yves, despite being a certified doctor, could properly diagnose it.
"At one point, she even contemplated taking her own life," Yves said. "We talked her out of it. Reminded her of what would happen to you if she were gone."
Yves looked down.
"Don’t resent your mother for it, but I felt you deserved the truth. When we brought up your na... she was suddenly... afraid."
"Is that so?"
There was no need for Yves to say anything more. He already knew that Clarice Astrea had never loved her son. Under Vanir’s abuse, she had turned a blind eye, choosing instead to focus all her love and attention on Vanitas’s half-sister, Charlotte.
And that truth no longer surprised him.
"To give her so space to breathe... Empress Julia sent her to the Dominion for work," Yves said. "She thought that perhaps, in that autocratic nation, Clarice might find so stability. A change of environnt. Anything just to pull her out of that state."
Yves paused. Vanitas’s eyes shimred with a glint of athyst as Yves eventually continued.
"And that’s where she t Vanir Astrea."
"...."
Vanitas gave a small nod, already piecing the story together. "Do you have any idea what Vanir was doing there?"
Yves sighed. "I don’t. The Astreas were any high-ranking nobles for normal people like to pay too much attention to."
"Continue."
After Clarice eventually married into the Astrea family, sothing changed. She had started smiling again. Yves, Roxanne, Julia, and the rest of the researchers were genuinely surprised, especially when they learned she had given birth to Charlotte.
"But you, on the other hand... you didn’t seem too happy," Yves said, watching him closely. "Did you dislike your new family?"
"To call it dislike is an understatent," Vanitas replied flatly.
"I see."
Yves didn’t press any further. There was a pause before Vanitas spoke again.
"But Yves, you’ve never once told what your work under Julia really entailed."
"You’d believe whatever I say, right?"
Vanitas gave a subtle, humorless smile. "I’m a dying man. If you choose to lie to my face, then you’ll have to live with that guilt."
Yves let out a slow breath, his gaze turning toward the floor for a mont before returning to Vanitas.
"How well-versed are you in the concept of stigmatas?"
"Probably enough that it won’t surprise ."
"Then let ask, have you heard of artificial stigmatas?"
"I can’t say I haven’t."
"Good. That makes this easier." Yves paused. "Under Julia Barielle Aetherion, all of us researchers were assigned to a single, classified project."
He looked Vanitas directly in the eyes.
"Artificial stigmatas."
"Stigmatas are connected to the soul," Vanitas replied. "So to create artificial ones, you’d need to work with the very foundation of souls themselves. Are you telling what I think you’re trying to tell ?"
"No," Yves said quickly. "It wasn’t what you’re imagining."
He leaned back slightly.
"To put it simply, it was more like engineering spirits. Creating them synthetically, then binding them to hosts to simulate a soul-like bond. That bond was then condensed until it took the shape of a stigmata."
Vanitas narrowed his eyes.
"So, reverse-engineering the connection between spirit and vessel."
"Exactly," Yves confird. "We attempted to imitate it. But even imitation has its cost."
"...."
"We failed more than we succeeded. Most of the ti, the host couldn’t handle it. Soul instability, ntal degradation, mana system collapse. So would go insane. Others..."
"Who were the test subjects?" Vanitas asked.
"At first, it was criminals on death row."
"At first?"
"...."
Vanitas’s voice rose. "Aside from criminals, who else did you use as lab rats?"
Yves hesitated, then answered. "You know her. Astrid. Julia’s own daughter."
"...."
Vanitas’s fists clenched. For the first ti since their conversation began, irritation surged within him.
He rembered that Astrid had frequently visited the facility as a toddler. And he had been the one who kept her company, playing with her, and watching over her.
"And what ca out of it?" Vanitas asked.
"At first... failure," Yves said. "We nearly killed that child, Vanitas. Not once. Not twice. I’ve lost count."
"...."
"But eventually... we succeeded. Though it ca at a cost."
"Succeeded, huh?" Vanitas’s tone was cold.
That explained Astrid’s powerful, and unexplainable stigmata unlike any other. Among all those he had encountered, hers was the most destructive. Even more so than Margaret’s or Ezra’s in terms of devastating power.
"The facility didn’t survive," Yves continued. "When it finally manifested, the radiation from her stigmata contaminated everything. The researchers, the equipnt, Julia, even my wife and... your mother."
"And ."
"...Yes."
Vanitas stared at him. "What about you?"
"I wasn’t there," Yves replied. "I had an appointnt with a patient that day. Everything I’ve recounted to you ca from Roxanne."
He lowered his gaze.
"And from what little the survivors rembered before the facility was wiped from existence."
It didn’t need to be said. Everyone who had been present that day had died months, sotis years later, depending on how close they had been to the epicenter of the radiation.
All of them passed unaware, never realizing they had been slowly dying from exposure.
And now, Vanitas understood.
"Astrid is the origin source of Mana Core Degeneration Syndro."
"Yes," Yves replied.
And it all made sense.
Because of Julia Barielle’s political power and influence, she had silenced everyone who tried to speak out, everyone who dared attempt to reveal the truth, fabricating the actual origins of the terminal illness.
"Did you know that was going to be the outco?" Vanitas asked quietly.
"No," Yves admitted. "Truthfully, I didn’t. We were... persuaded, so to speak. Astrid was a frail girl back then. And given my expertise, I was naturally assigned as her doctor during her early years."
He paused.
"That little girl didn’t have many years to live."
Vanitas narrowed his eyes. "So that experint...?"
"Was Julia’s way of saving her daughter."
Astrid Barielle Aetherion, the child saved at the cost of many.
* * *
Araxys.
The cult was nad after the Black Dragon himself, Araxys.
It was an organization built around the worship of a supposed deity, led by a prophet who claid to have been chosen by Araxys. That man had perford miracles, saved lives, taken others, and spread terror in equal asure.
But in the end, he was nothing more than another follower.
To resurrect Araxys ant finding a suitable vessel. Those who truly understood the legend knew that Araxys was not a god, but a spirit.
In the past, that spirit had possessed a vessel, an individual whose body and soul were overtaken, transforming them into the entity known as Araxys.
And that vessel had been sealed away long ago by none other than the Archmage Zen himself.
But to seal a spirit did not an to banish it. Spirits would never truly cease to exist. They whispered and haunted like phantoms lurking behind the curtain of an opera, playing cruel gas with the hearts and minds of people.
To those who followed Araxys, there was no greater authority than the prophet known as Fyodor. To them, his words were the law. Every cultist referred to him as the Chosen ssiah, the one who spoke on behalf of the Black Dragon’s will.
And Fyodor, in turn, regarded them all as his children.
"It always pains ," Fyodor said, "to see a child severed from their roots."
He stood before the congregation, eyes closed as if in mourning.
"A sapling cut before it can blossom. A branch lopped off before it bears fruit. That was what he was... my dear Lance."
His tone rose ever so slightly.
"Lance Ableton, he was one of my finest. Raised in the shade of the great tree. And now, he has returned to the soil."
He opened his eyes then, a pale, luminescent hue in shades of gray. His long hair that could be mistaken as a woman’s fluttered in the breeze.
"To the one who clipped him from our garden..." He raised a hand, curling his fingers into a fist. "May the roots of Araxys wrap around you in ti. May you see the truth when your own leaves begin to fall."
The gathered acolytes knelt deeper as Fyodor’s gaze swept over them.
"Soon, my children. Araxys shall return."
For years, their experints had progressed. Countless lives had been lost in pursuit of this goal. But now, finally, their work was bearing fruit.
They had not only replicated a stigmatas, but they had refined it, multiplied it, embedded it into vessels created from chiras. Constructs made from demons, spirits, beasts, and unwilling humans.
"We have co far. Too far to fail now. The roots we’ve planted in blood and bone have grown into sothing far too sacred."
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