“And here I present you our new invention: The Cleanser!

This wonderful artifact can generate up to 200 Waste eating slimes per day! No more clogged sewers, no more workers needing to be paid to care for them nor hunters to protect them!

We’re sure that further funding will be able to improve this wonder even further! And all thanks to its only inventor, one who had worked himself to the bone to create this artifact, Aran Lawbringer!

Let’s all give him the applause he deserves for having brought civilization one step further from those barbaric monsters!!!”

-Aldrastian announcer, shortly after a fake scandal involving Aran and a presumed monster, 400 or so years ago.

Nashariel and Life number ??? pov

Nashariel’s name was… Ryahkera.

She had been born in a poor family, with two brothers and a little sister. Much like Nashariel in her present life, the dragokin had awakened her draconic side at five years old.

Alexandros, the nation of civilization and faithful of Aldrastor, didn’t see monsters with favor. Ryahkera’s evolution had her father being unfairly fired from the factory, forcing him to accept to work in the sewers, especially in the smelliest and most dangerous places.

Nashariel felt an ocean of rage rising within her…

No, not her, not in this life.

Ryahkera’s anger. Nashariel had to remind herself of the difference.

Years passed.

Ryahkera awakened within a lab built to be more akin to a containment cell. She had been approached by a Judge, one very interested in her nature as an Omnidragon.

Nashariel watched as the man recruited the kid into becoming a researcher in his lab. She noticed that the elf always avoided the question about the little girl's pay, promising her a great future. He said that this was a big opportunity, so he expected her to work hard and often. That this would have helped her family.

She, the present she, got a bad feeling.

Years passed.

Ryahkera the Omnidragon was all but living in Ilas's lab, content with being away from the smelling place of her birth. She had also become close with the Judge's son, Aran. They often slipped away from their colleagues' gazes to simply enjoy some time together.

One day, Ryahkera’s youngest sister knocked on her door in tears. She told the dragoness that their father had been slain in the sewers. She asked why Ryahkera had always refused to answer their letters.

The omnidragon was shocked to her core. She had never received any letters, and Ilas had told her…!

At the funeral, Ryahkera felt everyone’s hateful gazes upon her. She told them that the Judge had told her that he was handling her pay… her mother had slapped her, hard enough to leave five red marks. She told her to never show her face again.

Nashariel was as devastated as Ryahkera. If Lianna, her present mother, had told her something like this… she felt the strong urge to hug her parents.

Months later, Ryahkera and Aran had separated from Ilas and his lab. The elf had bought out a contract that the omnidragon didn’t even know she had signed, and they had built a facility only for the two of them. Ilas had been furious, but he believed this to be his son reaching for independence, so he let it be.

The couple had always been very careful to not be seen together in their most tender moments.

Ryahkera had decided to honor her father by dedicating her first research to solving the mortality of the sewer workers. Their job was one of the most dangerous, often having to fend off monsters while in complete darkness and submerged in sludge.

Ryahkera was aware that those workers needed their work to feed themselves and their families, so she couldn’t simply replace them. Instead, she decided to replace the hunters.

Alexandros had to force them to take a certain amount of jobs in the sewers each year unless they wanted their license to be revoked. And still, the difference between their numbers and the workers needing protection played a massive part in everyone's mortality ratio.

Ryahkera’s work would shake things up.

The massive array of runes had been powered for years with the energy extracted from her evolution into a Mature dragoness, giving the duo and their other researchers a large quantity of mana for all the experiments they could think of.

Hopefully, by choosing the Mortal Faction, fewer people would die in the meantime.

They worked for years.

Finally, their research gave fruit!

Even the System recognized the result of their labor, naming the slime for its designated work.

Ryahkera smiled at the small Acid/Hunger-Waste eating slime that wiggled in her hands. They would protect the workers almost like a hunter, but they would come in multitudes. Adding to that, they could swim within the sludge without any negative consequences. Ryahkera was sure that this being only the prototype, she and Aran could come up with hundreds of possible improvements.

Things were looking up!

Nashariel felt her heart swelling with pride as if she had accomplished the deed herself.

She groaned, centering herself with thoughts regarding her friends, family, and the bloodiest battles she had ever been part of.

Ryahkera wasn’t much of a fighter, even if she was stronger than Nashariel at the current moment.

Aran and Ryahkera pronounced their wedding vows.

Five years after the launch of her project, the couple had decided to take a vacation and to… well, formalize their relationship. Alexandros didn’t support the union between monsters and humanoids, but the couple didn’t care and neither did their colleagues and friends.

Ryahkera finally relaxed.

Her mother had died of sickness three years ago. The dragoness had managed to hold her hand in the final moments of her life. She had apologized for her outburst, even if her other children still treated Ryahkera coldly. The omnidragon understood and left them to their lives.

She was happily married. Nothing could go wrong.

So many years… how long still? Nashariel wondered if she hadn't been slightly… impulsive with her decision of immersing herself in another life.

Next time, she promised herself, I’m going to buy the entirety of the Spirit chamber. And Darklight. And…

A year later, Ryahkera had successfully escaped to Valkas.

Ilas, her husband’s father, had found out about their wedding. Saying that the man had been furious had been an understatement, and he made sure to make the couple aware of it. Their lab had been flooded with Enforcers, confiscated, and Ryahkera had been accused of using Mind magic against Aran. In court, when she tried to defend herself, all her funds had been frozen and she had been charged with tens of other crimes.

To top it off, her husband had been taken away from her.

In a day, everything she owned had vanished like sand between her fingers.

She had to fight to avoid being executed. She dashed away faster than she had ever thought possible, always slightly ahead of her pursuers.

Ryahkera knew that Paladins had a way to detect the truth, and counted just on that to protect herself from the law. The Enforcers, she could easily deal with. And willing.

Maturity had come with lots of benefits.

As she had predicted, the omnidragon hadn’t been pursued. Tired of the pretenses of civilization of Alexandros, she had rejected Aldrastor as a patron deity, embracing Kondar’s pure pursuit of knowledge.

She hoped that this God wasn’t as corrupted as Aldrastor.

Nashariel started to feel the strain on her spirit. Reliving these memories was like cutting opening an old wound, except that it had already scarred and was bone-deep. She tried to interrupt the flow, again, but…

Two years later, Ryahkera’s followers could be counted in the hundreds.

In Alexandros, one of the crimes she had been charged with was punished with the amputation of both hands. So, as a middle finger to those corrupted Judges and Arbiters, she had called her group ‘The Hand’ and dedicated it to her new God.

Thanks to her previous specialization (and her sharing it with her benefactors) the local Crusader had tasked the lot of them to cleanse the dark tunnels below their Stronghold.

The omnidragon had personally built the underground facilities, connecting the lot of them to the surface and between each other. She only had to tweak her artifact’s runes to produce stronger slimes.

Omnia was that wonderful of a resource.

The lack of these precautions had been her father’s main cause of death. If only the engineers had cared a bit more about safety, and less about consuming resources…

No matter, she wasn’t there anymore. And Aran wasn’t here either…

Nashariel felt every bit of Ryahkera's loneliness, and anger, but also her hope for the future. She had every intention to wait for her Adult category to go back to Alexandros and retake her beloved.

And to the Hells that place’s laws.

Nashariel also felt that her spirit was collapsing and regenerating in equal measure. At least it wasn’t painful, just… weird.

Nashariel instinctually knew that she was about to see the last years of this incarnation of hers.

Time to see myself die.

Again.

A bit later than her sixtieth birthday, Ryahkera finally recreated her first true artifact. It was made to produce a near-unlimited amount of greater slimes, enough for the tunnels to be fully scoured clean from the monsters lurking beneath the surface.

And the… less living, more stinking things beneath the cities.

The Cleanser 2.0 had an inbuilt security system that barred the slimes it created to grow above Lvl 150. The moment that a monster reached that level, then it would split into two slimes of Lvl 75. Also, they were barred from attacking mortals under any circumstances.

Ryahkera’s first Cleanser had the same security system inbuilt in it, and no accidents had ever been reported. She was working on a way for the slimes to recognize friendly monsters, when… well, she had time now.

In Valkas, things were much better than at home. Justice depended more on actual crimes than who was on whose paycheck. Still, Paladin's definition of justice could be a bit too… far?

They absolutely despised her work with runes, even if they tolerated it. She had been forced to ask for permission for each kind of rune, for the Eye’s sake! That had delayed the artifact’s creation by months, at least.

Not that their caution had been entirely unreasonable. She had read the lines of her Curse skills, after all.

Also, judging from the many assassins that Ryahkera had been forced to paint the floor with, the Syndicates liked the tunnels as they were.

The omnidragon placed the artifact well deep in the earth. You could never take too many precautions, after all.

The Hand cheered with her. They had been a pleasure to work with, even if they were a bit more obsessed than her with learning new things.

Months passed.

Somehow, the artifact went out of control. It no longer generated simple slimes, only a formless mud that melted everything in sight. Although, sometimes, things crawled out of it.

Ryahkera and her followers had been deemed guilty of high treason, ironically getting cut out of any possible way to help fix it.

Obviously, the Omnidragon had lost quite some respect for laws.

She had helped the citadels nearby against the wave of corruption that emerged from below, personally seeing its terrifying propagation properties.

Once Ryahkera realized that the problem was only going to worsen, she decided to search for the Cleanser 2.0. The tunnels were filled to the brim with that caustic substance, forcing her into the Mire attunement to swim all the way.

The artifact wasn’t where she had left it.

Ryahkera tracked the thing for miles, sensing a foreign land. There, she found a Torment dragon… toying with her artifact!

His and Ryahkera’s battle erupted on the land above, one filled with trees taller than buildings.

Caves collapsed, city-trees fell to the ground, and corruption started to spread everywhere.

But Ryahkera’s spells prevailed.

The Torment dragon was defeated, but Ryahkera didn't fare too well either. She recovered the damaged artifact, then submerged back into the tunnels before the angry elves could pelt her with their arrows.

Ryahkera put back together her artifact, programming it to draw the corruption in. She then sealed the cave except for the smallest of openings. Only a mouse could fit through… or a slime. The Cleanser’s slimes would drink the corruption in, then they would replicate enough to resume their job. She knew that, given enough time, her little ones could solve this mess.

Unfortunately, she wouldn’t have been there to see it.

Armored steps echoed behind her. Paladins.

They accused her to be the culprit behind this all, and one of them felt frightening even for her senses. They didn’t listen, they were too angry, too… mournful.

A blinding flash later, all became dark.

Once again, the tale of an omnidragon ended.

But another soon began…

Nashariel felt her stomach area burning like the time she had fought against the Warband. A phantom pain, as her mother once taught her, but oh so real to her senses. She clutched her heart. Ryahkera’s last thought had been towards Aran. I wonder if he’s still alive…

Wood and Light attunements tended to prolong the users’ lifespans, as did vitality. Four centuries were a long time, but not too far of a stretch.

Nashariel found herself still trapped in the abyss. The other memories had shut down, leaving her in the dark. Like a candle in the night, Nashariel saw the small window of light where Ryahkera's memories faded to nothing.

A moment later, a small obsidian-black pendant dropped into her hands. Nashariel had never touched something so… gummy. A sapphire had been skillfully embedded in its center, proudly showing a cute black slime engraved on it. ‘To my beloved’had been engraved on it.

Nashariel’s heart skipped a beat. This was Aran’s wedding gift. How…?

Without giving her another moment to think, the abyss quickly crumbled.

Nashariel found herself clutching the pendant with all her might.

Nashariel opened her eyes, heaving for breath. A splitting headache pounded in the middle of her brain, and her body had gotten so sore that she crashed to the ground. Her muscles didn't respond to her commands.

She shifted to Healing, blasting herself with a fully powered aura.

After some time, her body recovered, but Nashariel found her soreness reaching deep inside her. She had rarely heard about soulache, but here she was, defying probabilities once again. Yay me…

Taking it painfully slow, Nashariel rose herself. Gods, I’m never doing this ducking crap again, not even in a million years!

/Primary mind, what happened!?/

Nashariel winced. Low volume only, please. She told the secondary mind all that she had experienced.

She had relived every day, every single moment of another’s lifetime. Decades of being another had left a scar within her, but she didn’t find herself wishing to set Alexandros on fire like Ryahkera. Perhaps a flame here and there…

It was a start, right?

How long was I gone for?

/A few minutes. I was just about done reading the Darklight chamber's skills when you woke up. You got me worried for a second when you didn’t reply to my voice/

Yeah, it was… intense. Still, a few minutes… did anything happen in the meantime?

/Nothing, really. I did hear something snap and Dan cursing a few times, but nothing else. Where does that come from?/

Nashariel lowered her gaze to her right hand. The pendant sat right there, as real as the world around her.

After a moment of shock, Nashariel replied. A memento, I’d say. Let’s think about it later. I need to see the others.

She had lived decades without them, after all.

“Sorry for not telling you about this earlier, but I needed to be certain that it still mattered before speaking about it.”

Dan cursed in a low voice. “Damn, we just can’t catch a break.”

Veliel bumped into him. “What did I tell you about those words?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, you were right. Happy?”

Ignoring the two’s antics, Dorel scratched his chin. “What do we do about it? Hector might be well-disposed towards us, but not the rest of the Hub. I’m not sure about asking them to guide us to something that Valkas is searching for.”

“No need for it,” Nashariel tapped her head. “I remember where I put it.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I remember where to find it. Still, I’d like to talk with Hector. He might help or know something.” Ryahkera was a researcher for the betterment of others; I’m sure that she hired like-minded people.

“And if not?”

“We go anyway. Two people have already been killed, and I saw how fast this thing spreads. I won’t take any chances.”

Nashariel enjoyed her friends’ company for the rest of the afternoon. Perhaps for the first time, she understood the depth of her closeness to them.

When she had trained under Felassiah she still visited them every few days, so she hadn’t felt their absence in the least. She liked her independence, after all.

This time, things were different.

Decades and decades passed as a powerless observer had put her life in a different perspective. Ryahkera’s life had been turned upside down in an instant, losing everything but her own life. Nashariel had the luck to still be with her friends, but she had never fully appreciated nor understood the depth of her fortune.

She knew that skills were leveled, stats had been gained, and, judging by how much her system pinged her at the corner of her eyes, she had reached some important milestones and such.

She also knew that she had all the time of her life for those things.

But for how long she would have been able to see her friends bicker with each other?

Veliel’s songs?

Dan’s silly antics?

Dorel’s incessant roll of eyes, hiding his smiles?

These were memories she wanted to treasure the most. And, if one day something got her, she wanted her future self to see a bit of light in this sometimes dark world.

Hours later, someone knocked on the repaired door.

Like the opposite of a hurricane, Dorel had finally unleashed all his inner creativity on the poor, innocent house.

Everything had been fully rebuilt, as he had taken full advantage of his newfound Omni- affinity. He had created wood, metal, and even glass, blending all the materials into a three-storey house worthy of a rich merchant. Perhaps even a lesser noble, if he had had the time to work on some jewels.

The rest of the gang had been his powerless assistants, watching in awe and washing everything after his passage. Is there a [Soap creation] Skill, I wonder?

Dan, being the closest, opened the door. “Hello?”

“Hector waits for you if you're willing." A ratkin announced with Shal's same raspy voice. He also looked at them with scorn. "We'll understand if you're not."

“We’ll be on our way soon.”

The ratkin didn’t look too pleased. “Very well.” He skittered away a moment later.

“I wonder what the heck happened to these people.” Dan half-asked, a moment after he closed the door.

Nashariel hadn’t seen many ratkins in Ryahkera's memories, but they weren't this hateful. Then again, her other self hadn't been affiliated with Paladins or Templars.

“I don’t know, but it’s better to not ask. I feel like that would spell trouble.” Vel said.

“Shall we go, then?”

Now that the group had some time to rest and wasn’t in a hurry, they used their walk to really look at the Hub’s aesthetic.

As opposed to a medium district of a normal city, here all houses were distant from the others. However, each house was also attached to a smaller building that served some purpose.

The group passed in front of a greenhouse that only grew different kinds of shrooms. Someone scrupulously annotated something on a slab made of bark, oblivious to the world around him.

Another house was surrounded by what seemed to be normal trees growing a bunch of white gems. They gave off a gentle blue glow, similar to the one lightning other buildings in the distance.

Nashariel thought that more than a village-like settlement, the Hub was more akin to a messy group of houses randomly thrown together. It would have benefitted from some amount of city planning, but what did she know?

Following the cheering noises through the maze, the Astillians finally arrived in what was the center of the Hub.

Hector was cooking a stew in a gigantic pot. His arms elongated a few meters, just enough to stir every side. The family that the group had rescued was chuckling nearby, glancing at a brand-new house nearby tinted with half-finished runes. He worked pretty fast, uh?

/I think that he and Dorel are on the same page/

True, true. I fear that an outbreak of house-sprouting is about to fall upon us.

The place was filled with people chatting more or less animatedly between each other, seated on a bunch of benches while eating their fills. There wasn’t heat, per se, only fervent passion for their respective topics. At least at the moment, Nashariel couldn’t know yet.

The moment they entered, silence fell.

The… researchers? Cultists? They all stared at them, some with fear, others with hate. Nashariel noticed that most of the ratkins had their hands gripping their weapons or hidden pouches.

You could hear a pin drop.

“This warmth is freezing the stew, guys.” Dan announced.

The rest of the group facepalmed.

Hector’s booming laugh startled Nashariel. “Ruining dinner would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Happy to see that you have decided to join us! Come, come!”

Nashariel was pretty sure that the man’s voice was inherently attuned to Sound. But still, after their leader’s loud welcome, most of the Hub relaxed some. The group still felt tens of eyes following them, but they were mostly anxious instead of terrified. Most ratkins didn’t change their stance, tho.

The Templars approached the bench pointed by Hector, where four steaming bowls of stew waited for them. “So, how are you guys doing?” Nashariel asked.

Alandra let out a fully tooted grin. “Wonderfully! Uncle Hector has already built us a lab, and we’ve already started engraving it!” She winced. “I should work on my blood production, tho. So many skills to work upon… So few points available…”

Nashariel strained an understanding smile. Yes, painting the walls with her blood. Cursed blood. Totally normal, yep. “I’m sure you’ll manage it, eventually.” At least she’s young and inexperienced. She can’t do too much damage, right?

She nodded. “Of course! There are so many books about runes in here! I already unlocked and bought a few more potent ones!”

Well, duck.

/Agreed/

Her mother gently grabbed her shoulder. “Dear, can you get me some more stew, please? I’m very hungry today.”

“Coming right up!” Alandra skipped to the pot’s serving line with her mother’s empty bowl.

“Please, don’t let her learn how to create undead armies.” Veliel sighed. “That would be bad, especially for her. We have seen what those energies bring to their user and the surroundings.”

Anthon followed the Cursed dragokin's footsteps with all the love of a grandfather. "She has a hungry mind and a free spirit, but also the wisdom to temper them. Worry not, Templars.”

Thar sighed. “Yes, we’re aware. A Hub didn’t take the threat seriously and… well, we had to collapse its entire ceiling to stop them. Hector had to send in some slimes too, just to properly get rid of everything.”

That had Nashariel perk up her ears. “Slimes? Is that his specialization?”

“No, he’s a Crystal Weaver. He uses gems to store spells and skills, mostly.”

“Kinda like a Core?” Dan asked. “Sounds useful.”

“In principle and yes, it’s incredibly useful! Imagine messing up an experiment while you’re low on mana. Usually, things would get pretty ugly and pretty fast, but with those gems? A simple word of activation and everything is solved. His work indirectly saved dozens; he’s a hero.”

/And he’s a fan/

No wonder he chose to come here. I can't blame him.Nashariel had the constitution to tank an exploding Core directly on her body, but not everyone could say the same. Especially dedicated spellcasters. “Still, slimes?” She insisted.

“Speaking about me?” Hector asked, towering on the bench. He wore a happy smile. “I hope you bunch didn’t talk badly behind my back!”

Anthon, the old man, chuckled. “Your work is so messy that a child could do better. You insult yourself better than anyone else could!”

The Slimekin replied with a hearty laugh, patting him on the back. “I can’t argue with that, old fart!” He recovered his breath for a moment. “Are you interested in slimes?” He asked the Templars.

Nashariel took a moment to reorder her thoughts and to carefully choose her next words. “Remember the house you lent us?” Something in her voice had the man losing his mirth. He nodded. “I found two lost souls in there. They talked to me about their deaths being caused by slimes. Big slimes. They collapsed the tunnel, but… what can you tell me about it?”

Hector frowned, sitting upright. “Shit, I thought that they had died in an accident.” He cursed again in a low voice. “Do you have any proofs?”

Nashariel shook her head. "I gave them peace. I have nothing but their word and the fact that they died violently. Still, if they told me the truth…”

“We have already re-engraved the entire grid last week, the Hub is safe. But why were you there? Did someone ask for your help?”

Thanks for not letting me lie to two lost souls.“That’s good to know. Your assistant brought us to that house.” She refrained from adding anything else.

Hector pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please, forgive her. The tyrants haven't been kind to ratkins for a while. I'll speak with her later."

Veliel interjected. “There’s no need. I’m sure that she had good reasons to act like that.” The priestess was the only one who could talk with Hector eye to eye, thanks to her height.

He slowly nodded. “Thank you, really, but she didn’t have the right to do it. Now,” Hector shifted his eyes to Nashariel once again. “since you were asking my friends about the slimes I used, do you think I have something to do with it?”

The rest of the bench squirmed uneasily.

Nashariel shook her head. “No, you don’t seem like a bad person. However, we need to know about their origin. We know that the tunnels below host an artifact related to them. Something that has been very, very problematic long ago.”

“I have a racial skill for generating slimes, one that I have improved with spells. I don’t know anything about some artifacts in the tunnels, but I can tell you right now that I would’ve moved everyone far away from here if I did. Paladins are attracted by problematic things like mushrooms by corpses.”

Do you think that he’s lying?

/I don’t think so? He might be a good liar. Let’s see how he reacts if we ask to go into the tunnels/

Good idea. Before Nashariel could open her mouth, a pair of ratkins appeared behind the giant Slimekin.

“Are they bothering-upsetting you, Hector?” Asked Shal, glaring at them.

“Do we need to handle-dispose of them?” Echoed another female ratkin. She didn’t bother to hide her thirst for blood, judging by her exposed fangs.

Nashariel felt Dorel shifting behind her. Knowing him, he was readying his Fighting style.

Ralf and Vala, the two kids, started sobbing at the aura full of killing intent.

Hector threw a hard look at the two ratkins. “Keep it down.” He ordered. The authority within his voice could rival Karda’s, in Nashariel’s opinion. “And, since you’re here Shal, why have you brought them inside an infested house?”

She stiffened. “They’re Templars. Isn’t that their job-duty?”

Hector sighed. “Shal… we’ll talk later. Please, leave them be.”

The two grunted in (reluctant) agreement, vanishing from sight.

/They’re still here/

I know. Keep an eye on them. “They’re very protective of you.”

“That’s something I’d rather not talk about. It brings us… bad memories.”

Nashariel softened her look. “As you wish.” She cleared her throat. “Now, would you be okay with us going into the tunnel that those two lost their lives in?”

Hector hesitated. He intently scanned the group. “I don’t know. The tunnels are pretty dangerous. Are you sure that you can hold your own down there? We would have offered you a guide or two to get to the surface.”

“We have seen what they’re capable of, Hector. The kids will do fine.” Catha said. Her children had calmed down, as she had caressed them until this moment. So much so that they had fallen asleep.

He nodded. "Very well, I'll trust your judgment, Catha. Tomorrow I’ll warn the guys guarding the exit to let you out. Have a good journey, Templars, and thank you again for your assistance.” Hector got up. “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” He concluded while talking with the others.

“We will, Hector. Thank you again for having us.” Thar replied, shaking his hand.

Hector winked.

As soon as the Slimekin walked away, Alandra returned. “Ehy, anything happened?”

“No, Al, only boring adult talk.” Catha said, receiving the steamy bowl.

“Ugh, I’m not a kid anymore.” The Cursed dragokin grumbled. “C’mon, spell it!”

“Just going inside the tunnels, killing some stuff… the usual.” Dan said, shrugging.

Alandra sat down with a pensive frown. “I do need some more points…” She hummed, then sighed. “Ugh, there’s too much to do to skip around.”

Thank the Goddess.

/Primary mind, the ratkins didn’t follow Hector. I believe that we’ll enjoy their company for a while. I also believe that they won’t be the only ones/

Nashariel warily sighed. No rest for the righteous…

/No rest for the righteous/