Clean Water

At the center of Sacred Flame Square, a bitter wind whipped up dust, but it could not smother the sharp smell of quicklime and charred wood.

Fabien and several army chaplains stood rigid in the wind, their faces pale from overusing their Divine Power, their eyes fixed on the enormous structure newly built in the middle of the square.

It was a massive stone trough with four stepped tiers, crude and strange in shape. Gray-white Alchemical Clay plastered its seams, making it look like some pieced-together Heretic construct.

"Pour it in," Shien said from the top.

Two Convicts hoisted a heavy oak barrel and poured the groundwater they had just hauled from an abandoned well into the funnel at the top.

Murky foam churned through the dark-red stream. The stench of blood and rotting entrails struck their noses.

After a year of exposure to the Blood Moon's radiation without maintenance, the groundwater beneath Blackpine Fief had long since become a poisoned abyss.

The water was full of hallucinogenic toxins. One swallow was enough to rot a living person's organs.

For the past few days, the fief's six hundred-odd people had survived only because the chaplains cast Purification day and night.

But under the suppression of the Long Night Law, purifying one barrel of poisoned water cost three times the usual Divine Power.

The chaplains had already been drained dry. Some had even vomited blood and fainted mid-spell.

If Demonic Beasts attacked the camp tonight, the medical tent would have no Divine Power left to draw on.

Shien had put an immediate stop to this spellcasting, which was little short of slow suicide.

Then, with the help of the Canon of Grace and Righteousness, he replicated Victor's [Lv.2 Alchemy of Materials] and [Lv.3 Alchemy of Architectural Constructs] skills.

Drawing as well on the sedimentation and filtration systems of modern waterworks on Earth, he built this makeshift wasteland water purifier.

Without industrial filter cartridges, he substituted high-temperature-calcined Activated Charcoal, Quicklime, and low-grade Holy Silver Slag, modeling the entire structure in his mind.

With no precedent to go by, he was uneasy himself, unsure whether it would work.

The dark-red poisoned water flooded the first stone trough and dripped through a clay pipe into the second. Quicklime and slag gave off a faint hiss, forcing the dark-red, flocculent toxins to settle out.

It then entered the third layer. Dense charred wood and Holy Silver fragments formed a tightening net, binding the rot-stench and shadow particles fast.

The square fell silent as a grave. Every gaze followed that slowly moving line of water.

At last, the water passed through a fourth layer of fine quartz sand and flowed toward the refined-steel outlet valve at the bottom.

Drip.

A clear, transparent drop gathered at the valve and fell into the clean wooden basin below.

Then a steady stream began to flow. The stench vanished completely.

Only the faintest trace of crisp, cold air remained, like springwater just drawn from a deep well within the Great Wall.

The Convicts' throats bobbed. The chaplains slowly loosened their grip on their Holy Emblems.

On this land cursed by the Blood Moon, this crude stone contraption had somehow washed out clean water. At least, it looked clean.

Drip... drip.

The sound of falling water seemed impossibly loud in the deathly still inner keep square. The liquid flowing from the refined-steel valve was crystal clear, neither bloody nor viscous.

Shien looked at the chaplains who could barely stand. "Cast Purification on it."

A young chaplain swallowed against his dry throat and trudged forward. He raised a trembling hand and managed to squeeze out the last wisp of platinum Divine Power.

In their experience, the moment that little Divine Power touched poisoned water, the Blood Moon's radiation would strike back, forcing the caster to endure the agony of having his soul seared.

But nothing happened.

The faint Holy Light spread across the water the instant it touched the surface, passing easily through the entire basin.

The Quicklime and charcoal had already stripped away the rotting-corpse toxins, while the Holy Silver Slag had neutralized the lingering shadow aura.

All the chaplain's pitiful scrap of Divine Power had to do now was erase the last trace of Blood Moon particles at the bottom.

Power that would once have struggled to purify a single cup of poisoned water covered an entire basin with ease.

Every member of the clergy was stunned!

Purifying Blood Moon contamination on this scale in an instant would normally require at least ten times as much Purification.

Yet that fourteen-year-old silver-haired boy had achieved the same effect with nothing but stone, coarse sand, and charred wood.

Fabien strode forward. The church knight, usually so careful of his bearing, plunged both hands into the icy basin, scooped up a great handful of water, and gulped it down.

Icy. Sweet. A crystalline coolness that reached his bones.

For the past few days, the poisoned water the chaplains had forcibly purified with Divine Power had been free of lethal toxins, but it always retained the ashen taste of rotten flesh burned by Holy Light. It was painfully hard to swallow.

This water was entirely different. The sweet liquid rolled down his parched, burning throat into his stomach without the slightest sting. It was even cool and fragrant.

Fabien stood frozen as a few drops slid down his stubble and struck the Holy Emblem on his chest with a plop.

Before this stone trough was built, drinking water in the entire camp had been strictly rationed. Each person got only a shallow bowlful a day.

That ashen-tasting water was just enough to wet lips cracked and bleeding, barely enough to keep someone alive.

Thirst had driven everyone to the edge of reason. Even breathing brought pain that seemed to tear through their chests.

So Fabien's few loud swallows became the signal that snapped the last taut string.

The deathly still square erupted.

Soldiers with a greenish gleam in their eyes crawled toward the trough, clawing at the splashing water and stuffing it into their mouths.

Even several weakened chaplains dropped to their knees beside the basin and buried their faces in the water.

Hasty, greedy gulps rose together, threaded with sobs no one could hold back.

This machine cobbled together from scrap had ended the Long Night's slow strangulation of Blackpine Fief.

It had secured the bare minimum needed for more than six hundred people to survive. More importantly, it had freed the chaplains' Divine Power.

Those drained casters could finally stop wasting their strength on purifying water.

In the coming defense, veterans with their bellies torn open and knights with their chests pierced through would have a chance for the Holy Light to pull them back onto the battlefield.

At the same time, feedback surged into Shien's vision like a tide rushing in.

The Deep Blue Blessings above Fabien, the chaplains, and the soldiers and Convicts drinking so frantically began to roil.

Shien paid no attention to the changes. He merely raised a hand. "Fill the waterskins and return to the outer positions at once. Mike, take the craftsmen and build the remaining purifiers.

"The rest of you, pick up your shovels. Get the first trench dug through before dark."

They were the simplest of orders, yet they jolted everyone out of their frenzy and back to reality.

The crowd quickly regained control, silently picked up their tools from the muddy water, and turned their awe into brisk obedience.

Just as order returned, a sudden clatter of iron boots rang out.

A light cavalryman assigned to the outer watch rushed into the inner keep and headed straight for Shien. He lowered his voice and whispered a few quick words in the boy's ear.

Shien nodded slightly and motioned for the cavalryman to leave. Then he turned to Fabien. "Fabien, gather every knight in the camp at the Resonance Realm or above."