With the dark core of the Wrath-Weaver safely locked inside his sub-spatial storage vault, Markus led the team out of the hollowed-out volcanic basin. Behind them, the once-foul subterranean lake was already clearing, its black film dissolving into the pure, cold freshwater rushing up from the liberated aquifers.
The return march across the northwestern steppes was a display of effortless tactical velocity. Having completely replenished their mana reserves during the overnight camp, the five-man unit sliced through the remaining wilderness corridors, arriving at the primary northern transit gates of Aethelgard just as the triple suns reached their midday zenith.
But as their boots touched the smooth obsidian highway of the outer commercial ring, the heavy, oppressive atmosphere of the continent suddenly shifted.
The blistering heat of the suns softened behind a sudden, sweeping veil of pale, silver-tinted mist. Within minutes, a cool, gentle drizzle began to fall over the metropolis—not the acid-heavy, ash-choked precipitation typical of the industrial lower sectors, but a clear, hyper-pure rain that carried the faint, crisp scent of wild orchids. It was the direct atmospheric output of the planet's newly purified water table expanding outward.
As the pristine rain droplets caught the intersecting light of the triple suns, the sky above Aethelgard violently fractured into a brilliant optical display.
A massive, hyper-saturated rainbow erupted across the horizon. It did not originate from a random atmospheric layer; Markus's passive spatial awareness immediately tracked its physical anchor point. The base of the colossal iridescent band sprouted precisely from the coordinates of the cleared subterranean canyon, arching gracefully across the heavens to drape its shimmering dome entirely over the obsidian spires of the capital.
[SYSTEM REGISTER: REFRACATIVE ENERGY ANALYSIS]
>> Atmospheric Shift: High-Density Primordial Condensation
>> Spectral Origin: Coordinate Node [NW-Sector 12] (Purged Site)
>> Resonance Profile: Pre-Fracture Chromatic Matrix
>> Visual Amplitude: 100% Structural Visibility
The rainbow wasn't just moisture reflecting light; it was a physical discharge of pure, pre-elemental primordial energy sweeping the residual extra-dimensional static entirely out of Aethelgard's upper atmosphere.
The effect on the city's populace was instantaneous and staggering.
Across the sprawling outer, middle, and inner rings, the chaotic rumble of commerce ground to a total, dead halt. High-tier merchants stepped out of their floating mana-carriages, dropping their ledgers into the wet streets. Elite legionnaires fell out of formation, their heavy plate armor clattering against the cobblestones as they dropped their spears. Thousands of citizens—from the wealthiest nobles in the core spires to the poorest laborers in the lower trenches—simultaneously dropped to their knees, bowing their heads toward the shimmering arch.
A low, harmonic murmur of collective prayer began to ripple through the avenues, a wave of thousands of voices rising through the cool drizzle.
Markus adjusted the collar of his dark traveling coat, his acoustic sensors easily isolating the specific frequencies of a nearby group of high-tier guild elders who had collapsed onto the marble steps of a trading pavilion.
"...the Covenant of the First Sovereign," an elder whispered, his voice trembling with profound, reverent awe as he pressed his palms against the wet stone. "It is the Millennium Rainbow... the ancient scriptures were true. Every time the grand arch spans the capital from the sacred northwest roots, it blesses the land with a thousand years of unyielding abundance and economic prosperity. The hidden rot has been broken..."
"Three thousand years," another merchant choked out, weeping openly as the silver-white light reflected off his robes. "The imperial archives state it has not appeared once in the past three millennia. The continental leylines have awakened. The drought of the primordial soul is over."
Markus walked past the kneeling crowds with an unhurried, measured stride, his figure completely ignored by the weeping citizens who were entirely consumed by the celestial omen. The team followed closely behind him, their gold-flecked eyes cool and analytical, their faces showing zero emotion despite knowing the exact truth behind the planetary reset.
The humans were praying to a natural phenomenon, entirely oblivious to the fact that the "blessing" was simply the logistical byproduct of a Blackwell extraction operation.
As the silver-tinted rain continued to blanket Aethelgard, Markus did not simply watch the crowds pray. His Fate's Eyes remained fully active, scanning the biological and magical frequencies of the citizens who were currently bathing in the pristine, primordial downpour.
What he witnessed was a massive, real-time chemical and spiritual reaction.
As the rainwater made contact with the skin of the kneeling citizens, thin, wispy ribbons of matte-black vapor began to hiss outward from their pores, instantly dissolving into the wet pavement. The primordial energy condensing in the atmosphere was acting as a high-density solvent, actively neutralizing the extra-dimensional ink that had silently woven into the city's population.
However, as Markus ran a systemic sweep across the different rings of the metropolis, the limitations of the atmospheric phenomenon became statistically stark. The rain was not a universal cure; its cleansing properties were strictly bound by the depth of the target's internal contamination.
For the common laborers and lower-tier merchants who had only suffered minor, secondary exposure—primarily from drinking the lightly contaminated surface water or breathing the ambient city mist—the purge was absolute. Their clouded eyes cleared instantly, and their erratic pulse rates normalized as the Wrath frequency was completely scrubbed from their neural networks.
But as Markus directed his gaze toward the middle and inner rings, where the high-tier syndicate leaders and corrupted noble houses resided, the black vapor did not fully dissipate. The silver water merely sheared away the superficial layers of their corruption, leaving a heavy, stubborn core of extra-dimensional ink pulsing deep within their mana channels.
"The surface has been washed," Markus murmured, his voice a low, level current that easily bypassed the roaring cheers of the celebrating city. He adjusted the lapels of his dark coat against the cool mist. "But the true architects of this infection are buried far deeper than the weather can reach."
"Look at the spires, Brother," Rosanne noted quietly, her gold-flecked eyes narrowing as she looked toward the towering obsidian palaces of the high-tier factions. "The people down here are crying tears of joy, but the ambient mana radiating from the upper rings is still carrying a jagged rhythm. The infection there has only gone into hiding."
The shadow trailing beneath Markus's leather boots rippled, pulling inward as Nagini coiled herself tightly around his torso to shield her own spatial signature from the purifying drizzle. Her dual crimson eyes flashed with cold, calculated amusement within his consciousness.
"Ah... Master... the pretty rain only washed the dirt off the outside of the fat pigs," Nagini hissed with liquid, low-frequency malice, her spectral tongue flickering inside his mind. "The little street monkeys are clean and sweet now, but the big masters up in the shiny glass boxes... oh, their insides are still full of that greasy rot. They are just holding their breath until the clouds go away. It's a very big city, Master, and the ink has spent a very long time building its nests in their counting houses."