I Became the Sect Master’s Shadow

Chapter 003 - The Council

[Inside the Hall: The Council]

Deep in the walls of the village's great hall, where a previously merry din of voices and movement had now grown quiet, a council of people gathered. The hall was lit by the faint light of candles, their flames licking at the stagnant, heavy air. The dense stone walls exuded an oppressive stillness, the gravity of the situation weighing upon all those seated at the table. All members of the council appeared to be exhausted and haggard, as if they had gone months without sleep. But their eyes, dark and deep as they scanned their environment, showed some level of alertness to them. They were holding their breaths, as if they feared one misplaced action would break the tenuous peace that surrounded them.

The air in the room was thick, the burden of a millennium pressing down upon these five aged men. In a corner of the room, an old man sat hunched over, elbows on the table in front of him, fingers laced together. As if sensing someone watching him, he raised his eyes to gaze out the window to his left. Outside was the night sky, filled with a million shining stars, a field of stars spread out across infinity and darkness. The old man looked at them with great attention as if trying to find something, as if trying to find something that had been lost for eternity.

"Chief Arlen?" one of them called him, and he swiveled his head in their direction. He sat at the far end of the long, heavy wood table. His face was etched with the weight of leadership. His eyes were weary, shadowed from sleepless nights spent poring over maps and records, trying to find a solution to a problem that had no answer. His hair was as white as snow, but still grew far back of his ears. A smile crossed his lips for an instant, then vanished as soon as it appeared, replaced by a serious expression.

He glanced over at his side. Before them, in a semi-circle, sat five of his most reliable members—men and women who had been at his side from the earliest days of the epidemic. hey were the only ones left who still had the strength to continue. Among them, in the farthest corners of the table, sat two students—young and inexperienced but selected for their sharp minds and for being willing to attempt the impossible. The atmosphere in the room was tense with a sense of grim resignation, as if all of them understood that whatever was being planned this evening would be their final opportunity.

Arlen's voice cut through the silence, and its low pitch conveyed the seriousness of things.

"We are all aware of how bad things have gotten," he started, his eyes scanning the room. "The plague is not merely a sickness—it is a pestilence. And it moves more quickly than we can keep up with it. Entire families, entire districts have been wiped out. Next, the last of us will be dead. It's already too late for the majority of the town."

Helena, a woman of quick mind and the best one to discern the truth in a given situation, nodded. "We've witnessed the death toll mount in all directions. We can no longer hold it back, Chief. The quarantine efforts, the isolation—it all proves futile. People keep getting ill even before we can give them our cures."

Arlen's fingers clamped down on the tabletop. "But what if we can stop it? What if there's something out there, something we just haven't found?"

The others looked at each other nervously, their own faces reflecting the same fatigue. One of his most experienced and faithful members, Kora, leaned forward. "What are you saying, Chief? That there's some sort of miracle cure? After all we've attempted, you really believe we can find it?"

A silence filled the room, thick and heavy, as everyone waited for Arlen’s answer.

“I’m not suggesting miracles,” he said finally, his voice lowering. “I’m suggesting that there is one last hope. A cure so powerful, it can stop the plague in its tracks. It's called the Exilium Pill.”

The name of the Exilium Pill seemed to hang in the air, like a distant dream that no one had ever truly believed in. Everyone was quiet for a moment; the words had been thrown in the face of despair, and they found themselves unwilling to believe the news.

The Exilium Pill is a cryptic and nearly mythological medicine, rumored to possess the ability to heal the most devastating plague humanity has ever known. This tiny, glowing, rainbow-colored pill is rumored to be crafted using scarce alchemical materials that may be obtained only in the deepest, most secluded recesses of the world. Its outer coat emits a soft, otherworldly glow, as if containing the very essence of life and death within. The pill emits a soft, ethereal thrum in one's hand, like a pulse that seems to vibrate in the soul.

The Exilium Pill holds a nearly mythical legend: it is the only remedy to an epidemic that wreaks havoc among the population, inflicting unthinkably immense suffering. The plague itself does not relent, infecting with fever, rot, and insanity. The Exilium Pill promises a swift and complete recovery, stopping the illness in its tracks and restoring health to the infected.

It is said that the creator of it—an unknown man of unparalleled brilliance—never wrote down the formula, choosing instead to lock it away within his own mind. The man himself has disappeared long ago, leaving behind only the pill and no other record of his existence. And now, with the plague running wild, the Exilium Pill is the world's only savior.

The formula, which is claimed to be so complex that it cannot be understood, exists only in the alchemist's mind. Anyone who will try to replicate the cure has to pull out the formula out of his memory—a feat impossible to do, for the man is elusive and perhaps even lost in time. So the only way to be saved is to take hold of the Exilium Pill itself. It is the only and last dose, and it is certain that there is only one in the world.