Without Archons, humans largely live lives resembling that of herds. Survival is for the fittest; the strong eats; the weak dies. Unorganized and starving humans have little use of their intelligence, especially in this age of gods and monsters. Left with their comparatively less adept physiques, humans end up as prey more often than predators. Thus, godless individuals have to gather in order to combat the harsh world of Teyvat. 

 

Tribes aren't uncommon as a result. However, those gatherings seldom grow large. This is why a godless village such as Deadwater is a rather miraculous existence. 

 

Its visitors are either traders or scavengers, but if there ever will be a visitor curious enough to ask how the village has come to be, the few sociable residents would for sure proudly explain: “We may not have an Archon, but we have a guardian! Lord Night Crow will protect Deadwater, for it is his home just as much as it is ours.”

 

This day, a group of merchants arrive at Deadwater; behind them, their merchandise follows. 

 

“Quite a nice set of walls here.” A merchant says to his companions. “Wouldn’t think that a place like this exists out here in the wild.” 

 

The leading merchant has a pretty big moustache. On his belt, a worn helmet and a flail are strapped to his side. The group he is travelling with is all armed and armoured to a similar degree, except for their merchandise. 

 

“You think we’re in an Archon’s territory?” Another merchant asks.

 

“What does it matter?”

 

“If, and I mean if, this place is godless, it sure would make a good place to settle.” The other merchant puts his hand on the handle of his machete. A glare flashes in his eye. Beside them, a deep scar is seen. 

 

A malicious smirk spreads across the merchant’s face, elevating his moustache. 

 

“For now, let’s just focus on our trades.” 

 

The group approaches and is stopped by the guards at the gate of the village. It’s the systematic check-up sign-up thing that cities and nations do for security measures.

 

“Stop right there. Who are you, and why are you here?” A guard questions. 

 

The merchants size up the guards: wooden plates hanging in front of their chests with rope as armour, stone-tipped spears in hand, and no helmet is seen on anyone. The only item that’s slightly menacing on those guards is the daggers sheathed on their leather belts. Some of the merchants can’t help but scuff. 

 

“Good sir, we are a group of travelling merchants, here to seek a place to rest for a couple of days. Possibly trade some of our goods in the meanwhile.” The leading merchant explains while twisting the tip of the moustache. He gestures with his other arm to their merchandise. The guards look over and see a cluster of little girls. 

 

They huddle close together, and one can’t discern whether they are trembling from the cold or fear. Their rags are caked in mud and stains. Their arms and legs are laced with cuts and dabbed in bruises. Most are burying their faces, but a few brave ones look straight at the guards with their watery eyes. They know that only when they are chosen, will they finally be free from those merchants. 

 

The guards look at each other, and one nods. 

 

“You may enter after two things. First, hand over all your weapons for the village to store as long as you reside here, and second, read over the rules of Deadwater carefully and follow them.” A guard instructs, and he can sense how the first requirement stirred up some frowns from the group of merchants. 

 

“Look man, anyone who travels out here needs weapons for self-defence. Never mind the elemental creatures, those things that rise at night know nothing of mercy. How could you expect us to just hand over our weapons?” A skinny merchant wiggles his way to the front and confronts the guards. He is spinning his dagger. The guards did not see where he pulled out that dagger from. 

 

“Out there is out there, inside Deadwater, we have rules to follow. Even us guards need to store our equipment when not on duty. Those are the rules of our village. Accept them, or leave.” The guard replies. 

 

“Tch.” The skinny merchant clicks his tongue, half-revealing his badly-stained set of yellow teeth. 

 

“Then I take it must be very safe inside this village? Deadwater was it?” The leading merchant inquires with a smile. “Surely those flying eyeballs can leap over the walls at night?”

 

“No one needs to be concerned for their safety in Deadwater,” a guard proudly explains. “For our walls shall protect us at night.”

 

“But more than our walls,” the other guard adds, “Lord Night Crow is watching over us. No one who breaks the rule of Deadwater goes unpunished. No monster who breaches the walls’ defence will live to see the next day’s sun.” 

 

The merchant with the moustache raises an eyebrow. Lord Night Crow? Stupid name. Obviously, he isn’t saying that out loud; so instead, he asks: “Your Archon?”

 

The guards shake their heads: “Hand over your weapons, one at a time. Then go read the rules. It’ll tell you all that you need to know.”

 

The merchants are reluctant to part with their weapons, but their leader’s command is also absolute. Seven men of various physiques line up and drop their various equipment into a wooden barrel that one of the guards rolled out from a nearby building. Soon, it’s filled to the brim with daggers, sabres, flails, throwing knives, swords, claws, grappling hooks, and whips. 

 

The little girls all feel a bit of relief when they see the merchants hand over their whips. It’s obvious that those merchants are more unhappy to give those away than their other weapons. 

 

The guards’ eyes widen when they take the helmet from the moustache guy and see, that covered beneath it, a shining red gem is hanging by the side of his belt. The gem is round and smooth. Around it are golden rims. Beneath the reflective surface of the gem, a symbol of flame is seen. 

 

“A Genshin!” One of the guards exclaims, invoking a series of smirks from the group of merchants. 

 

Indeed, while weapons are forbidden in Deadwater, there are no rules against people who hold a vision. Those people, gazed upon by gods, are granted the power to control the elements around them. The guards are thinking twice about letting them in. They can’t demand that the merchant part with his vision, not even temporarily. However, letting an Allogene (AKA Genshin, AKA People with vision) inside, even if unarmed, is a threat. No one can stop him should he decide to stir up trouble. 

 

A guard looks to his colleague and sees that the other guard nods after a moment of thinking. 

 

“I trust Lord Night Crow.” the colleague says. 

 

And so the merchants enter with their merchandise, after a rather quick check-up. The guards didn’t bother checking the children, not even curious about the sole hooded little figure among them. The kid at the very back receives a hard kick from one of the merchants, and the whole group enters the gate of the village. 

 

The leader walks to a metal sign that’s nailed on the stone wall beside the gate. On it, carved lines of text stating the rules of Deadwater.

 

Rules of Deadwater

 

All who reside in Deadwater must obey these rules for the peace and freedom of everyone. 

Those who break the rules shall be severely punished before being cast out of the village.

 

1. No one is to deliberately harm another person or another person’s property. Except for Dr. Albright Corvus, who is allowed to perform necessary physically harmful procedures for medical purposes.
2. No one is to steal, rob, damage, destroy, or in any way tamper with another person’s property without the owner’s permission.
3. If one is to see a fellow villager in need of help, such as starvation, injury, or disease, help must be offered, and no fault is to be placed upon the helper as long as the help is given in good faith. Please note that injuries and diseases should be sent to Dr. Albright Corvus to handle.
4. Everyone is equal to another in the weight of their words, and numbers decide the outcome of debates. However, never forget that should Lord Night Crow ever places a command, it is to be obeyed above all else.
5. Work must be done daily to the best of one’s capacity, ensuring the prosperity and survival of Deadwater.
6. …

 

Twisting his moustache, the leader of the merchants thinks to himself: “A guardian. Sounds like that is the key to controlling this town. For one to lead this many people and build up a gathering as such, perhaps that Crow also has a vision. As for the Dr. Probably one of the few that should be kept alive.”

 

The leader turns away, omitting the rest of the rules specifying guidance on marriage and property allocations, and the various miscellaneous stuff. A short discussion later, the merchants scatter to sell their goods. Passers often cast worried gazes at the not-so-friendly-looking newcomers, but many men are interested in what they have to offer. 

 

Wives. 

 

That’s right. Although the merchants have bits of herbs, gemstones, and animal goods on their street stalls, what they are really selling are the little girls they herd. Some men are scanning through these girls, carefully contemplating which one should they spend their hard-earned Mora on. Others look back at the direction of their homes and farms, debating whether or not a new member to their family would be worth the investment. 

 

Women take their daughters back home and away from the merchants. They aren’t willing to have their kids witness something this distressing, and most boys are currently hard at work in the field. 

 

The initial hesitancy of the villagers soon dissolves once the merchants start to loudly announce their goods. They don’t shout out how they are selling children, instead, they shout out every other item they offer besides the main course. A few men walk near and dabble around, pretending that they are only checking out the trinkets. After all, even in a time like this, where lives are fragile like leaves in a snowstorm, most people have a basic fundamental sense of morality. 

 

They felt that trading children like this was somehow wrong, even if it isn’t written in the Rules of Deadwater. But then again, Deadwater is at a shortage of women right now. The old are married, and the young aren’t grown. If they want to secure their future, or even just to have another helping hand on the farm, those men need to find a mate. Or in this case, buy one. 

 

The village needs new blood for sustenance.

 

“Kind sir.” A delicate little voice is heard. 

 

The villager checking the merchandise looks at the speaker and sees a dirty little girl. She’s hurt, but not too badly that would deter the villager. 

 

“Would you, by chance, take me in as yours?” she bravely speaks, standing out among the rest of the girls behind her. It’s a risky move because if the villager isn’t interested, she’ll be beaten badly tonight for distracting the customers. Luckily, the villager has been eyeing the girls since his arrival. The one who stood out had noticed that, and therefore she dared to propose. 

 

The villager smiles. “What’s her name?”

 

The merchant sees that his customer is interested, and a grin spreads on his face. Naturally, he ain’t wasting time to dabble with the villager, and so he says outright: “Her? 200,000 Mora. Clean.” 

 

The villager gulps. He wasn’t comfortable enough to straight up ask how expensive a girl would be, but now that the merchant has spoken, he somehow feels more comfortable continuing. 

 

The two throw words at one another, combating for the most optimal price. More girls from behind, seeing that a customer is interested, all hurry to the front in the hope of being picked. However, thanks to the first impression, that villager picked the first one who spoke up. 

 

180,000 Mora later, that little girl walks to the villager’s side among the envious gaze of her fellow girls. 

 

“What’s your name?” 

 

“Talia…” the little girl says. She isn’t entirely sure what awaits her, but she can’t help but hope that life from now on will be better than before when she was with the merchants. 

 

“Talia, what number of the winter will this be for you?” The villager asks. 

 

Talia is baffled for a second. What number of winters? When she finally reacts and realizes that he’s asking her age, she hurriedly replies: “Um, 16, 16 kind sir. I, I can-” 

 

She is one of the few girls who actually knows what the villagers want. While most girls back there are orphans who have never been told the meaning of the union between a man and a woman, Talia had both her parents before monsters wiped out her home. She wants to explain that she will fulfill the duty of a wife to the villagers. The merchants won’t refund, but should her new owner think that she wasn’t worth the price, life would surely be hell. 

 

However, the villager cuts her off. 

 

“16, 16, then Talia, you shall work at my farm and care for my parents at home. After your 19th winter, we shall wed.” The villager explains. 

 

Everyone on site is silenced by the villager’s words. What? Wed after the 19th winter? It sure is a choice not many people would make in this day and age.* Who wouldn’t wish for a son to help in the field or a daughter to marry out for a price, as early as possible? 

 

 

The merchant can’t help but ask: “Dear customer, dare I ask why the wait? I am merely curious.” 

 

The villager turns back and explains: “Well, I sure wish to marry sooner than later, but it is the rule of Deadwater that no woman who has seen less than 19 winters shall be wed.” 

 

“What? That’s a rule? Sure is one that we’ve never seen from anywhere else.” The merchant retorts. “And let me tell you, we travel far!”

 

“Oh yeah, one of the few rules that many of us aren’t too happy living with, but it’s how it is in Deadwater.” The villager says.

 

“By any chance, may I know who made those rules?” 

 

“We all did.” The villager explains. “Well, almost. That 19 winters thing is pretty much proposed by just Dr. Albright.”

 

“And the village listened?” 

 

“He spoke about how girls at a young age are not physically and mentally fully developed or whatever, and insisted on a minimal age before marriage.” The villager explains. “It was long ago when the village had that debate. I think the Dr. originally wanted it to be 21 winters. It took the entire village’s disapproval to lower that to 19.” 

 

“What!? His proposal became a rule despite the disapproval of the entire village?” The merchant is fascinated. 

 

“‘If this rule doesn’t pass, then I’ll just leave.’ Dr Albright said. And frankly, that was enough for us all to take a step back. Most of our lives were saved by him after all.” 

 

“Can’t go without him huh?” The merchant scuffs. 

 

“But honestly, what’s more than that was the fact that the following day after the debate, that rule was carved right onto our tablet by Lord Night Crow himself. It was the only time when Lord Night Crow appeared during the day.” 

 

The merchant falls silent in his thoughts, and the villager turns to leave. 

 

Another girl from the merchant’s side musters the courage to ask if the village is willing to take one more, but before the villager can even react, she receives a kick to the stomach from the merchant.

 

The merchant knows that this villager has no more Mora to spend, and therefore is angry at the girl’s daring attempt to escape. 

 

The villager looks back and warns: “Don’t do that in Deadwater. Our rules forbid harming another person!” 

 

“And no one here herd their sheep and cattle with whips?” The merchant scuffs. His attitude is noticeably colder now than before. 

 

“That doesn’t matter, but here in Deadwater, any person falls under the rules. I suggest you respect them, or else Lord Night Crow will surely hand out his punishments tonight.” 

 

The merchant is at a loss for words. The villager leaves. After hearing his explanation and finally realizing what the metal tablet on the wall meant, all the girls were vastly more eager to remain in this village. 

 

-------

 

Deadwater has a pretty busy street during the day, with shops and trades happening between villagers frequently. The leading merchant is holding a little hooded figure by the chains leashed on her neck. Giggling of metal rings sharp as they walk. The merchant’s eyes swing side to side, taking in everything about everyone: this one looks like a fisherman; that one is a mother; he is a potential customer; this one sells gemstones. 

 

Where the f@*k is the doctor?

 

They finally cross paths with a young man with a large basket on his back. Twisting his moustache, the merchant carefully observes the young man. 

 

His attire resembles that of his fellow villagers, but noticeably much cleaner. Even with a basket full of herbs with muddy roots dropping crumbs, none can stain his clothing. The man emits an aura of wisdom, yet the merchant can't discern what is his occupation.

 

The young man, on the other hand, glances at the little hooded figure and frowns, as if saying: “How could you treat a kid this way?”

 

The moustache guy doesn't give a sh!t, and they both resume their walks. But right after their shoulders cross, 

 

“Dr. Albright! Oh, thank lord you are back and safe! What will become of my mother’s illness?” the merchant hears a worried voice from behind. 

 

“Mrs. Stone, yes I recall. Fear not, for I have found the right herbs for her condition.” the man with the basket happily replies. 

 

“Oh thank you! Thank you, doctor, When-”

 

“You are Dr. Albright Corvus?” the moustached merchant turns and asks. 

 

Corvus looks back and not-so-patiently explains: “I am, but excuse yourself while I am speaking with my patient’s family.” 

 

“My, where are my manners? I am terribly sorry.” The merchant yanks the chain in his hand, forcing that little figure towards him. 

 

The little one stumbles a bit but quickly stabilizes. She gets what the merchant meant by that tug and lifts her head up just enough for her eyes to show. 

 

“Eek!?” that man feels a chill running through his spine, freezing every nerve fibre in his tarsal when that little kid laid eyes on him. As if spoken to by a being from beyond, the villager senses a sudden urge to leave. 

 

“Um, well, doctor, I’ll come to chat later then. I have something to attend to.”

 

He hastily runs away, and Corvus glares back at the merchant.

 

“Oh ya? I suppose he must have forgotten something. But anyhow, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Albright.” The merchant speaks. 

 

“Let’s talk. Her condition isn’t one that you can handle. None of you can.” Corvus speaks as he walks towards his clinic.

 

The merchant follows, dragging the little hooded girl with him. His smile dissolves as his eyes narrow upon Corvus’ words. He already knows what’s going on with this little girl from a single glance? That’s impossible, right?  

 

The little girl, meanwhile, hesitantly looks at the Doctor, but most of him is blocked by the large herb-filled basket on his back. She twitches her head slightly, yet no matter what she does, she can’t see Corvus’ expression. The girl recoils a bit. She hates being with anyone whose face she can’t clearly see. 

 

“Where did you find her?” Corvus asks without even looking back. Not that it'd be easy carrying a basket that large. 

 

“Is that important to her diagnosis?” The merchant nonchalantly replies, yet retaining a tone that says “Don't poke your nose where it doesn't belong.”

 

“Her disease comes from the land itself. You all may have contracted it to some degree by now.” Corvus replies. 

 

“Yeah right, doctor. But no extra fee here, just hers.” the merchant dismissively replies. 

 

They arrive at a little house near the centre of the village. Around it, the merchant sees a field of sunflowers. Some appear mature, while others look like they were only recently planted, with their newly stirred up dirt having a different texture than that of other, larger flowers. 

 

They enter, and Corvus rests his basket beside a grinder. 

 

“Take it off.” the doctor says. 

 

The merchant and the little girl are both slightly confused, until they understand that Corvus meant the little girl's hood. 

 

She hesitantly lifts it off, but as if she naturally wishes to conceal what's under there, her dusty hair falls to cover her eyes and nose.

 

However, that doesn't really matter. Corvus saw everything he needed. Beneath the girl's hair, hide three faces. 

 

The one on the left: skin that's stained purple by the endless hatred for life, converted into the swaddling clothes that nourishes evil. Gluttony and wrath possess their host, feasting on its flesh and hope. 

 

The face on the right: drenched in blood, with the redness permeating from the flesh to the spine. The bones are transformed to support the never-ending hunger for dreams and fantasies of the monster that lives within.

 

Each evil occupies one of her shoulders, extending to what's left of the little girl's face. Her hair is messy because the skull underneath is becoming deformed by the growth of fangs and eyeballs. 

 

“Those bastards!” Corvus whispers, “They actually did it.”

 

“So, what do you make of it? Doctor?” the merchant asks. 

 

“Not much for now, she one of your merchandise?” Corvus asks. 

 

A speck of light briefly shines in the merchant's eyes: “Everything we have is merchandise, for the right price.”

 

“Oh? Is that a sales pitch, or did you mean that literally?”

 

“There's room for negotiation.”

 

“Then what about that vision? What's its price?”

 

“My my, the eyes of a shopper.” the merchant compliments, “shall I know what you can offer for the price of this fiery drive for travelling and profiting?”

 

“How about a message that can save your life?” Corvus explains while taking out a syringe filled with an iridescent green fluid. 

 

“Regarding this girl?” the smile fades from the merchant's face. 

 

He isn't stupid enough to believe that this girl's existence was any natural occurrence. When his group came across the village during one of their previous travels, she was found locked up in an abandoned dungeon. On its walls, carved incomprehensible symbols and squiggles. 

 

The merchants were disgusted by her at first, especially considering that her deformities were clearly revealed at the time. In fact, the village at the time offered the merchants a heavy price to rid the village of her. However, after witnessing her power, the merchant knows that she would be worth much more if kept on a leash instead. 

 

The group travelled on, and the price for taking this little girl with them was the enslavement of that entire village. 

 

“I’m afraid I’ll need a better offering than that.” The merchant replies to Corvus about his life-saving info proposal. “After all, when a Genshin loses their vision, what use would staying alive then be? What more can their lives be but an empty husk, void of dream, aspiration, and even memory?”

 

“Then what about her price?” Corvus asks. He doesn’t care about the vision at all actually. That question was merely to tell the merchant that this girl isn’t one that he’d want to handle.

 

“I’ma afraid that she won’t be a satisfying purchase. Are you really considering taking this one in?” Merchant doesn’t answer. 

 

“It is you who need to consider letting her go. First, you ain’t gonna take over this village, even with her on your side. Second, don’t be foolish enough to think that those little sparks of yours can actually contain what’s within her.” Corvus explains as he finishes preparing the syringe.

 

“I’m…not sure I know what you mean, doctor.” The merchant’s voice now grows stern. Clearly, Corvus knows what that little one is, likely more than even herself. 

 

“Her condition is one that assimilates her surroundings. From the looks of it, she’s perhaps only doing it mentally so far. But make no mistake, staying this close to her, and you will eventually contract what she has.” Corvus explains without casting a single look at the merchant. The doctor instead digs around a chest of his hiding under his bed frame. 

 

A drop of cold sweat falls down the Merchant’s cheek and gets absorbed in his moustache. How could this doctor knew that the little girl could affect other’s minds? A deepened voice demands: “Tell me, is there anyone else like her?” 

 

“I sure hope not. And if another one exists here in Deadwater, I have never encountered them.” Corvus answers. He takes out a cloth bag and throws it onto the table in front of the merchant and the girl. 

 

The bag drums a heavy thump upon landing, and the Merchant can tell that it is a substantial amount. Looking inside, the bag contains platinum Mora. 

 

In Teyvat, a currency is universally recognized, one which was invented by the God of Wealth himself: Mora. Mora is money; The. Money. Being an item that permeates throughout every human society, its intrinsic value is undeniable. People like the merchant understand Mora’s mechanics. 

 

Mora can have many forms, and some will even infuse them into weapons and tools for enhancements. However, as currency, Mora comes in four types. At its initial stage, Mora’s material resembles that of copper. Copper Mora is the most commonly used unit of currency for exchange in this day and age, but large purchases involving millions do occasionally occur. As such, it’d be an issue having to carry millions of copper coins on one. Luckily, Mora can be fused, allowing more accessible transportation and transactions: When one has 100 of them, they can be fused into a single silver coin. 100 silver makes 1 gold, and 100 gold makes one platinum. 

 

The merchant takes a coin from the pouch and carefully examines it. Whether he is observing their size or colouration, it is undoubtedly that those are three platinum coins. He raises an eyebrow; Corvus just offered him 3,000,000 Mora for this little girl? 

 

“Those, for this little girl!” Corvus finally sits down on a chair. He tilts his head and rests on his fist, which the elbow is holding up on the table. 

 

The merchant is speechless. 3,000,000 Mora can rival an entire year of their profits collectively. Now it is only within his grasp for this little monster. Even he, as the leader of the travelling merchants, is baffled at the sight of those coins. 

 

The little girl nervously looks around. She can finally see Corvus’ face, but sensing a strange atmosphere between him and the merchant, she once again becomes uneasy. What is going on? She wonders. 

 

“Doctor, may I ask how come you have this much Mora?” The merchant inquires after a long period of silence. His mind has been screaming for him to take the offer, yet something remains at the back of his mind, telling him to be cautious.

 

Corvus lets out a lazy smirk and gestures his hands over a single platinum coin. Sparkling of lights emit, and the single coin bulges into a neatly stacked 100 gold Mora coins on the table, pushing everything else to their side. 

 

The merchant isn’t sure what Corvus is doing; perhaps he is demonstrating that the platinum coins are real? The merchant then sharply inhales when he sees that Corvus is removing coins from that pile. 

 

1

 

2

 

3

 

Each coin taken away raises the merchant’s heartbeats a little. When Corvus has removed 10 gold coins, he stops and once again looks back at the merchant: “Those, for this little girl!”

 

Huh? What the he||? A lesser offer than before? Is this doctor negotiating with him? Or is Corvus messing with him? 

 

“Doctor, what is the meaning of this?” The merchant is confused, not by the situation, but by Corvus’ action. 

 

“What? A merchant is baffled by a monetary exchange?” Corvus scuffles and gestures his palm over the money. He ain’t wasting his time with this merchant. That girl must not remain by that merchant’s side. 

 

Funny enough, for the merchant’s own good.

 

“But-” the merchant habitually lets out.

 

Hearing that, Corvus once again begins to remove coins from that golden pile. 

 

11

 

12

 

13

 

Each coin removed is dropped back into Corvus’ own breast pocket, and soon, muffled clicking of coins hitting each other is heard from the doctor’s clothing. The merchant listens to the sound of coins being dropped into that pocket, and it feels like blood is dripping out of his own heart. 

 

20 more coins gone, and Corvus once again gestures to the pile. 2 platinum and 70 gold: “Those, for this little girl!”

 

A sweat runs down the merchant’s cheeks, dripping over his moustache so much that it can hardly hold its shape. Take it! Take it! This deal may never occur again in his life. However, what’s more than just the amount offered, the merchant fears that when Corvus once again removes coins. The first time it was 10, then 20, and what will be the third time? 30! Or perhaps 40!? The merchant's eyes unconsciously fall upon Corvus’ hands, glaring, not daring to miss even the slightest amount of twitching. 

 

Corvus watches and discerns that the time has come. He extends his hand at the pile. 

 

“Wait! Don’t!” The merchant calls out. However, Corvus ain’t listening to his cries. 

 

To the merchant’s relief, Corvus does not remove any more coins this time, but instead, he pushes the entire pile towards the merchant himself. 

 

“Those, for this little girl!” Corvus says, “AND, I want to know where you found her!” 

 

This time, the doctor looks straight into the merchant’s eyes. Although nothing else is said, the merchant knows that if he doesn’t take the deal this time, Corvus is going to end the deal right there on the spot. The merchant has already lost 30 gold coins; that's 300,000 (copper) Mora. It’d be worse than killing him to see the rest of 2.7 million go away like that. 

 

“DEAL!” The merchant shouts out; his voice so forced that they exited through the spaces between his teeth. 

 

Corvus lets out a smirk. Looks like the funds he stole from his previous home did come to big use after all. When he had examined all the newcomers to Deadwater, Corvus knew that they had only this one little girl with this worldly evil condition. In fact, this is the first case of such that he has ever encountered in his life. 

 

“Happy doing business with you.” Corvus says, and gestures for the girl to his side. 

 

The little girl is hesitant. She doesn’t fully comprehend the situation, and she quivers at the thought of getting close to anyone. 

 

The merchant tugs on the chain, though a little less forceful this time. After all, she is no longer his property. 

 

“Alright, listen, you are free from me. Now you belong to him. Be nice, and remember my teachings!” The merchant says. 

 

He grips the chains tightly, and the vision on his belt begins to shine red, as does his moustache. Soon, the entire chain from his palm all the way to around her neck, bursts into flame. The dark metal turns red, then to orange, then to a blindingly bright yellow in mere moments, and flame erupts out of the girl’s neck, incinerating her hair. 

 

“Ah-.....Eheh!-....” the girl lets out a couple of squeals. Her scream is forced shut by the chain tightening around her neck. 

 

“Hey!” Corvus angrily protests, but the merchant doesn’t stop. 

 

Just as the doctor rushes up, the chain around the girl’s neck breaks under the intense heat, and the merchant retrieves it. 

 

A smile once again appears, lifting the merchant’s moustache that has now returned to its normal colour. 

 

“Worry not, dear customer, I am merely releasing her to your side.” The merchant explains. “Oh, and, no need to worry about any damages. This is also a surprise for you.”

 

Corvus hurries to the girl’s side, and he sees that burn marks that cover the girl’s neck, shoulder and faces are disappearing in front of him as they are being covered up by the growing purple and red flesh. 

 

The merchant takes out a few gold coins to add to the pile on the table, and soon, the pile once again goes back to being a single platinum coin. He takes them into his pocket. 

 

“And likewise, Dr. Albright, I too am happy doing business with you. I’d tip my helmet to you, but unfortunately I don’t have it on me.” 

 

Corvus understands what the merchant meant by that remark: “I may not have my armour or weapon on me, but I have my vision. Don’t think that you can threaten me like you did back there.”

 

The merchant leaves a map with a red circle drawn on one of the towns. That’s where the village where they discovered the little monster girl. 

 

“Alright then, Dr. I shall now take my leave.” 

 

A few footsteps are heard coming from the wooden floor of the clinic, all ending in the creaking of an opened door. “By the way, Dr. Albright, this girl doesn’t speak much, though she can talk. I think her name is Cynthia, though I am not entirely sure. Good luck, and farewell.”

 

Corvus turns to the little girl. Her wounds are healed by now, but the crimson and purple corruption on her appears slightly more prominent than before. She herself is lying on her side in a fetal position, a thumb in her mouth bitten to the point it’s bleeding. She is shaking, and tears are rolling down in a zigzag path. 

 

After some attempts at communicating with her later, Corvus lets out a sigh. He takes his syringe, apologizing to the girl in advance, then inserts it right into her neck. 

 

The sharp pain makes her contour her body on the ground even more, but Corvus is skilled with his needle. Despite the violent movement, the needle stays inside her neck until all the liquid in the syringe has been deposited. He takes it out, and the little one falls asleep. 

 

Corvus examines her again. Indeed that’s the Crimson. And indeed that’s the Corruption. Before escaping from the cult, those lunatics were already throwing people they’d captured into those altars. What came out was nothing resembling humans. Seeing a girl this tiny baring both evil on her, how many must have parished before she emerged as she is. 

 

No time to dwell though; Corvus has a more pressing matter to attend to. 

 

He places a piece of cobblestone near each of Cynthia’s shoulders and lays her down on a patch of grass outside of the clinics. Corvus has a torch in hand, and he is watching, unmovingly, over any signs of the evil’s spread. 

 

Regardless of the result of this experiment, Corvus knows that there’s not much time left. The village on the map is not close to Deadwater, but it is even further from the previous Lunatic Cult’s centre. The cult has expanded, and with them, so will the Crimson and the Corruption. The doctor stares at the sleeping little girl, but part of his mind is already digging into his closet, facing the ocean-blue robe and the crow-like mask. 

 

For the next few nights, the Night Crow shall be busy because the inevitable is approaching quickly. 

 

“And So, the Pestilence Has Arrived.”