On the eastern shore of the Dark Continent, by the endless Eastern Sea…
In a nation of baths made up of tens of thousands of large and small hot springs, there lay a "city of purification" that welcomed and sent away an endless stream of customers stained with all kinds of "filth" every day—
The western outskirts of Valentia, famed as the "Pure City."
On Mizuran Alley No. 7, bathhouse 54-09.
Vanessa dragged her exhausted tail, forcing a smile as she saw off the last group of customers—[Toadfolk].
She told her younger sister Laura to close up, skipped dinner altogether, and headed straight upstairs.
Her serpentine tail, covered in silver-white scales, rasped softly against the wooden steps as she climbed.
Creaaak— The door shut behind her.
Unlike Vanessa, the slightly smaller Laura hung the "Closed" sign properly, then followed her sister upstairs.
She found Vanessa facedown on the bed, tail coiled tightly into a ball. Laura's heart ached.
"You really don't have to work this hard, Sis. Even if they downgrade us, worst case I'll just find some guy to marry, squeeze him for a hundred, two hundred thousand Kin-maru as a price, and that'll keep the springs running!"
Laura planted her hands on her waist, making the proud curve of her chest even more prominent as she spoke triumphantly. She was cut off mid-boast by a pillow flying straight into her face.
"You think I need to sell you to keep this bathhouse going?" Vanessa scolded, feigning anger. "Go sleep in your own room and stop pestering me."
"Hee-hee, nooo~ I wanna sleep with Sis~"
Laura's emerald-green tail slid sinuously across the floor. In one bound she was on the bed, clinging to Vanessa like a big monkey, using both hands and tail to hang off her.
Two tails—one white, one green—twined together. Vanessa flicked Laura's forehead with a mock-annoyed look.
"Get away from me. And don't you drool on me in your sleep."
Laura stuck out her long tongue and licked Vanessa's palm with a grin.
"Too late~"
With her fooling around, the sisters played and tangled for a while.
After some time, Vanessa held Laura in her arms, watching as her sister dozed off and began to snore softly. She gently brushed the hair away from Laura's ear, and that bright, gentle little face was once again overshadowed by deep tiredness and worry.
Valentia, the "Pure City," owed its fame to the Siren clan.
By dripping their inherited Nen ability, "Siren's Tears," into the baths, the Sirens could wash away the [pollution] lurking in their customers' bodies—pollution born from [Faith] being punished, "backlashed," by [Nature].
In other words—
The Sirens were one of the Dark Continent's most renowned clans of [Exorcists].
It was said that if the "Great Siren" truly awakened, even beings on the level of [God] that had gone awry could be cleansed or healed. That alone showed how vital the Siren clan was to faith-based monsters and believers alike.
They were the "doctors" of this world.
They rescued people from sliding into mindless beasts or full-blown "Disasters," and spared them from being wiped out by the "Cleanup Squads."
But—"a healer cannot heal herself."
"Exorcise" did not mean "erase Nen."
The Siren clan used "Siren's Tears" to flush their customers' pollution into their own bodies. The filth was stored there temporarily, then siphoned off bit by bit via offerings of Kin-maru—tokens bestowed by the "Great Siren" through his believers.
If they didn't receive enough Kin-maru regularly—
If the filth built up too long inside them—
The Sirens themselves would eventually lose their minds and transform into monsters or Disasters, and then they'd be on the wrong end of the Cleanup Squad's work.
And if that time came, Valentia would simply… let nature take its course.
What Vanessa hadn't told Laura was this:
Their parents had once faced this exact choice.
Years ago, their "performance" had fallen short. The family wasn't issued enough Kin-maru to siphon off their own pollution. When they felt themselves nearing the limit, they chose to leave Valentia of their own will before the Cleanup Squad came—while they still had a shred of sanity left.
They went east, out into the deep reaches of the Eastern Sea, to find some other way to live.
And now—
It was Vanessa's turn to stand at that same crossroads.
She'd been taking fewer customers, afraid the pollution in her body was piling up too fast. But fewer customers meant failed quotas.
Failed quotas meant their bathhouse rank dropped, and bathhouses of a lower grade received fewer Kin-maru.
Fewer Kin-maru… meant the filth in her body accumulated even faster.
Round and round the vicious cycle went.
Vanessa stroked Laura's sleeping face and thought of their parents. For a moment, she even wondered if she should just… follow in their footsteps.
But Laura was still so young.
Was she really going to leave her sister alone in the world—to walk the same bleak road their family had already walked once?
Vanessa clenched her jaw. She couldn't accept that.
Bit by bit, sleep crept over her. Wrapped around her sister, she drifted off.
A faint, misty wisp slid in through the cracks and sank silently into her subconscious, hooking a strand of her awareness and carrying it away—toward Roy's dream-realm.
…
Northern reaches of the Dark Continent.
In the lands of the Kobold tribes—
Within the Howling Wolf King's domain, in the Bonebreaker Gorge, there lay a small settlement beside a thin river: a scattered cluster of a few dozen homes known simply as Kiiro Village.
That night,
On the west side of the village, Old Koller waited until his wife and children were asleep, then quietly climbed out of bed. He lit a flickering oil lamp and shuffled out to the woodshed.
Lifting a panel from the floor, he revealed a cramped stairway leading down into a narrow earthen cellar. He stood there for a long time, then finally bent his wrinkled dog head and climbed down.
Tap… tap…
His footsteps echoed softly through the ink-black night.
The cellar was damp and airless from years of being sealed. Old Koller coughed a few times, lamp held high as he made his way to the far end.
There, against the wall, sat an old wooden chest buried in dust.
It was locked.
He hung the lamp on an iron hook protruding from the wall, then fumbled inside his shirt for a key. Crouching, he slid it into the lock.
Click.
The lid creaked open—and a dull yellow Nen glow spilled out.
It was faint; after being sealed away for so many years, the Nen clinging to it had thinned to the verge of collapse.
Old Koller stared at it, transfixed. He reached in and ran a trembling hand over the contents: a battered suit of plate armor, and a rusted spiked mace. Relics of a time and a life long past.
"You were thinking of going out adventuring again?"
A rough, husky voice floated from behind him.
He flinched, then—before he even looked back—he pasted on a guilty grin. His wrinkled muzzle scrunched up until his eyes disappeared into the folds. He snapped the chest shut in a hurry, then waddled over to his wife, hands spread wide.
"Just one last time," he said, clinging to her. "I promise. Really, the last time…"
"This year's harvest was bad. And the other day Mark's boy…" His voice dropped. "He got dragged off and eaten by a pack of green-skinned beasts."
Old Koller's hand came to rest on his wife's swollen belly.
"You're due soon," he murmured. "We don't even know how many pups you're carrying. I just… want to do one more job. Bring home a bit of milk money before the babies come."
"You always have a good excuse, don't you?"
Jenny smoothed a paw over his head, following the deep furrows carved into his old dog face by years of wind and frost. He was no young hound anymore.
"Do you really think you can still lift that hammer? Still wear that armor?"
"What if…"
Her eyes turned worried.
"You heard what happened to Mark's family."
She leaned into him, pressing her muzzle into his, nuzzling his cheek. "Koller… I can't lose you too."
"Yes, yes… okay, let's not talk about it. Let's sleep," he said quickly.
That night,
Old Koller lulled his pregnant wife back to sleep and climbed into bed beside her.
As drowsiness took him, his consciousness began to float. A thin strand of dream-mist caught hold and lifted him away, out into the vast sea of collective subconscious.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a boundless, featureless emptiness.
Ahead of him…
Stood a young man whose face he couldn't quite see clearly, and beside him, a humanoid creature with the upper body of a woman and the tail of a snake.
Old Koller's dog eyes snapped wide open.