After a night's rest, as dawn barely broke, Ritsuka set out from the small town with Mephistopheles and Jeanne d'Arc Alter in tow.
This trip had two goals. First, to see if they could stumble across any lone Heroic Spirits wandering the wilds. Second, to take Jeanne, who's got a knack for dealing with demons, back to that forest from before and see if they could break through to the cave. With Jeanne's Noble Phantasm, they might just be able to sweep the area and wipe out the demonic forces in one go.
That left Nero to hold down the fort in town. Not that "holding down" meant much—Nero wasn't about to sit around in the lord's mansion all day. After waving goodbye to Ritsuka and the others, she hit the streets alone.
It's the mid-14th century, a time when civilization's light hadn't yet pierced the dark, ignorant haze of the Middle Ages. The town's sanitation was, to put it mildly, a mess. Even if you ignored the grime lurking in the corners, the streets themselves carried a faint, foul stench. Combine that with the town's lifeless vibe, and the whole place felt like a stagnant, rotting pond.
There wasn't much to see on streets like these. Unlike Jeanne, Nero wasn't some saint eager to help the townsfolk for free, so she quickly got bored. She wandered aimlessly, already wondering when she could head back.
Then, a faint but shrill cry hit her ears. Nero's brow twitched, a bad feeling creeping up her spine. She quickened her pace toward the sound.
On the town's outskirts, in a filthy alley, an old woman in a headscarf cradled an unconscious young man, tears streaming down her face, utterly helpless.
"What's with the waterworks?" Nero's silhouette appeared at the alley's entrance, backlit by the sun, casting a long shadow over the pair.
The old woman looked up, let go of the man, and scrambled toward Nero on all fours, sobbing, "You must be a noble, right? Please, I beg you, save my son!"
Nero's eyes flicked to the man. At a glance, he seemed out cold, but a closer look revealed he was awake—just not there. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the sky, oblivious to the world. His lips twitched, letting out faint gasps and jumbled words.
The sight made Nero's gut tighten. "He sick or something?"
Being half-demon, Nero wasn't worried about catching anything. She stepped past the mother, knelt by the young man, and tore open his rough cloth shirt without hesitation.
What she saw made her suck in a breath. His body was covered in large, dark patches. She reached out, touching his forehead—burning hot, as expected.
No doubt about it: the Black Death. The plague that tore through Europe in the 14th century, a brutal rat-borne disease. Aptly named, it left victims with agonizing black spots, robbed them of their senses, and killed them in two to three days. Highly contagious, deadly, and fast—it was the grim reaper of the Middle Ages, cloaked in black.
"Damn it, today of all days?" Nero gritted her teeth, standing up and brushing past the sobbing mother and son. She made a beeline for the lord's mansion. She wasn't Jeanne; she couldn't call down miracles to heal the sick. For someone already infected, the kindest thing she could do was end their suffering quick.
But for the town of Ratvench, this wasn't just about one life. Nero remembered the man's clothes—same as the lord's serfs. This first case of the Black Death meant those rats that attacked the other day were definitely carrying the plague. Anyone bitten or scratched during that attack, including Ritsuka, could be next to fall ill within days.
If that happened, this town would become a living hell.
Nero tapped her comms to Chaldea's support team. "Mash, you there?"
After a brief pause, Mash's voice crackled through. "Miss Nero, is that you?"
"No time to chat," Nero cut in. "Those rats from the other day were carrying a plague. The Black Death's about to hit this town."
That was all Mash needed to hear. "I'll inform the Master right away!" she replied, her voice tight with urgency.
The connection cut off. Nero shoved open the doors to the lord's mansion, ignoring the startled gasps of servants and random nobodies as she stormed straight to the lord himself. "Lord, we've got a plague coming."
The lord, who'd been about to scold her for barging in, froze. His face paled, and he leaned forward. "A plague? How do you know?"
Nero's lips parted, ready to say she'd seen a victim. But she wasn't a doctor—how could she claim a single sick guy meant a full-blown epidemic? The Black Death had been creeping through Europe for over a year, but this was the Middle Ages. News traveled slow, and the lord probably didn't even know the symptoms. How could she make him believe her?
She bit her lip, then leaned in. "Because this is the work of demons."
Bingo. The perfect play—lean into superstition to make the lord listen. It wasn't even a lie, not really. Those freaky rat swarms from the other day were proof enough.
"Demons…" The lord's face darkened, his voice low as he repeated the word. His expression twisted. "I knew it!"
Nero pressed on, not wasting a second. "This disease comes from those cursed rats. Infected people get black spots all over, lose their minds, and pass out. If you can, isolate anyone who's sick or got attacked by the rats. Now."
The lord waved a hand, signaling he got it, then turned and strode deeper into the mansion, his face cold as stone.
With that, Nero's job was done. She let out a heavy sigh and headed outside.
The rest was up to the others. If the lord acted fast and separated the infected, and if Jeanne could pull off another miracle, they might just keep this plague from swallowing the town whole.
All she could do now was wait. A little while later, Mash's voice came through again. "Miss Nero, good news!"
"Hm?" Nero raised an eyebrow.
"The Master's team found a new Heroic Spirit by the coast. Sounds like they've got the power to control plagues!"