It took almost an hour to clear the city. It only took five minutes after Caeden landed for the rest of his schoolmates to join in, but there were just so many Plague Rats that it was overwhelming. It turned out that the people who were running through the streets were only there because the rats had come through the floors of their homes. They were chased out of their own houses.

The streets were cleared in the first twenty minutes with the number of people working on it. Most every shrouded had a way to deal with such fragile, exposed enemies. The Plague Rats had little in the way of defenses, and the streets offered excellent firing ranges for anyone with a ranged attack. Despite how many people had joined in, there was no doubt that the vast majority of rats had been killed by Cat's specters and Caeden's Toolset.

What took the most time was hunting through every nook and cranny, killing all the stragglers. This city was equipped with a sewer system, a concept that Caeden was unfamiliar with. It appeared that the rats had used these damp, dirty underground passages as a breeding ground, their numbers growing out of control and unchecked.

At the end of an hour, the sewers had been cleared, every inch of the city thoroughly checked with aura sense for any hidden rats. Then things got heated.

Caeden was surprised to learn that this was not the first time the rats had appeared. They were incredibly weak individually, so the townsfolk had just dealt with them on their own. They had no way of knowing that the rats were festering under their city. The ones they killed were the bold and stupid, nothing compared to the main mass seething in the sewers.

Due to the monsters' presence, there had been a massive uptick in the sick and diseased. That alone had crippled the community. Those that were healthy were busy caring for those that weren't. They had little time and energy to think about pest-level monsters.

This close to the sea, most of these people were used to smaller monsters appearing. Nothing big or powerful would ever be this close to the edge of the continent. So they had assumed the rats were a similar style of creature, similarly beneath their notice.

For the most part, they were correct. An individual Plague Rat rated only 2 IP. Most wild animals were more threatening on a one-to-one basis. It didn't help that there hadn't been a patrol out to this continent in several months. They were long overdue. In any normal circumstance, this situation wouldn't have occurred.

That critical oversight, the lack of knowledge on the part of the residents, and the lack of patrols on the part of the CA had led to a tragic loss of life. Plague Rats were monsters that were part rat and part disease. All the sicknesses that the city folk had contracted were literally a part of the monster. As such, when the rats broke out and went berserk, they attacked the weakest prey first.

Every single sick person in the city was dead before they had even arrived. Those that had fled their homes did so as the people they had been caring for were eaten. That is why the rats went through the floors and why the healthy had time to escape. The monsters deliberately went after the sick first.

The worst part of it all, at least as far as Caeden was concerned, was that there were three shrouded in the city already. Considering this continent was a mining center for ether, the family that owned the mines had several personnel stationed in the city to oversee the removal of the ether. Mostly to make sure all of the magical material made it into shrouded hands instead of going to the people who actually mined it.

The shrouded stayed locked up in a manor overlooking the city, set into the mountain that overlooked the city. Like most shrouded homes out on the continents, it was a little slice of Central City tucked into the wilds of the Starry Sea. At least, that's probably how most islanders would see it. To Caeden, it was just ridiculously garish. The house, which could be more aptly described as a mansion, was designed in the same visual style as Central City with various bits of impossible architecture and vibrant colors. In a city of similar buildings, it would have been beautiful. Here in the stark greys and blacks of this rocky continent, it was eye-bleedingly over the top.

Upon hearing that when this had all started, the shrouded in residence had locked their doors and turned a blind eye, and after looking around the city at all the people crying over the partially and fully consumed bodies of their loved ones; Caeden was sorely tempted to go make a visit, weapon in hand. Lily had stopped him, but barely. It wasn't just that they hadn't interfered in the actual attack; it was that even the slightest bit of attention on their part would have exposed the Plague Rats immediately. They might hide from normal people, but to a shrouded's aura, they couldn't be more obvious.

The absolute lack of care it took for them to be that oblivious was astounding. At least, Caeden hoped they were oblivious. If those shrouded had noticed the rat infestation and done nothing about it, he was going to…he didn't really know what, but it was enough that he might even be fine with killing them, as much as he hated it.

So there they stood, the four of them all together as they watched families go through the motions of tending to their dead. They had come back together once all the work they could do was done. Cat and Erik had been able to assist more than Caeden and Lily as their shrouds were more versatile in these situations. Cat could literally summon a workforce to perform manual labor, and Erik was a trained doctor with the Stitch shroud. He alone helped dozens of people recover from potentially life-threatening injuries.

"So, what's the word?" Caeden looked to Erik, knowing he was the most likely to have gotten useful information. Cat looked a bit shell-shocked, while Lily was entirely neutral.

Erik shrugged. He was subdued compared to his normally boisterous nature. He took his medical profession incredibly seriously, and the number of people he hadn't been able to help must weigh on him.

"It's what you'd expect. This is a coastal city. Most of what they deal with are minor insectile monsters that an adult with a shovel could take out. The rats were new but not unknown. It's probably happened before, from what I could glean, but a few generations back. It sounds like a patrol took care of it in the early stages, so they weren't ready for something like this."

Caeden nodded solemnly. "I would have guessed. Swarm types like this are rare, so close to the sea. Maybe a hundred years in between? No one would remember. Especially if it got handled last time. The oldest might have heard a story from a parent or grandparent, depending on the life expectancy. Anything they knew might have understated the threat. Hell, they were probably more aware of a sudden pout of illnesses than the rats."

Erik nodded sharply. "Yup. Once I caught on, I started asking for stories about sudden waves of sickness. Three different tales, all of a similar bent, and they sound like they spawned from the same original."

"Sorry." Cat interrupted. "What are you two talking about?"

"Oh," Caeden shook his head. "Continental shit. The story exchange is an old, old tradition when you go to another continent or another town. It's supposed to be fun, but it's also useful. Especially for this stuff."

Care to explain for some dumb islanders?" Cat stared between the two of them. Lily also started paying attention instead of staring into the middle distance. Caeden was reminded that she had seen much worse than what they were looking at now but hadn't spoken to many unshrouded or continentals.

"Yeah, sure. The story exchange is something every continental is taught as a kid. If you ever go to another village, you're supposed to exchange stories with them. Actually," Caeden paused. "I need to break this down further."

"So, the monster threats on the continents are kind of ever-present. You get that, right?" Caeden glanced between them, seeing nods. "Well, no one sits around and waits for them to come for you. So a long time ago, tens of thousands of years, our ancestors came up with a system. See, monsters come in all kinds of varieties, but in a given region, only so many types will appear. That's just how it is. But it could be centuries between a recurrence of a particular monster. Unshrouded don't live that long, so if they just left it be, people would forget about the monster and have to learn how to deal with it all over again."

"So our ancestors told stories about the monsters. Somewhere in between a factual guide on what it looked like and what to do if you saw it and a fictional children's tale. Simple details, easy-to-remember plot. Kid's stuff. And that's how they told it. Every continental grows up hearing dozens of stories about different monsters and a brave hero or heroes who dealt with it."

"Eventually, the transition evolved to include more general stuff to look out for, like how to avoid diseases and basic survival things that depended on where you lived. The core concept still remains, though. These people have stories for every kind of monster that's ever appeared here. That's why it's tradition that whenever you travel to another community, you hear their stories and tell them yours. It's a warning system couched in some fun storytelling."

"Ok, how do you know all of that?" Lily asked after a moment.

"The Story of Stories, duh." Erik jumped in.

"The what now?"

"The first story every child learns is the story of why the tradition exists. What I just told you is basically a super-short cut and dry version of the Story of Stories. It's so that kids get why they should care about learning and remembering the stories they're told." Caeden explained. "It's pretty fun, honestly. Some of my best memories as a kid were my parents telling me stories before bed. There are a lot of them."

They lapsed into silence as they watched the locals go through the rituals and traditions of their final rites. Cat and Lily had made offers to help and been shot down immediately. Caeden and Erik hadn't bothered. Death rites were a family affair, not for outsiders to handle. If the dead had no living family, their closest friends would take care of them. If even those didn't exist, then a neighbor would do it. Not strangers.

"I don't get it." Lily finally stated as they watched an older man lay a grey shroud over the bones of a child. They had been picked clean of meat to the point of being unrecognizable. Silent tears were running down the man's face. She sounded upset and confused.

"Don't get what?" Caeden asked, not feeling much better.

"What are they doing with the bodies? Why wouldn't they let us help get rid of them?" Caeden turned to look at her. She looked…frustrated.

"Do islanders not have death rites?"

"I…I don't know. Most of the population is shrouded, and we… don't do stuff like this. The Church says that the body is a vessel of the shroud and that our shroud is who we really are. Since our shrouds disappear when we die, they say that the body is just an empty vessel, not even really a person anymore. Then again," She paused, "They do also say that unshrouded aren't really people."

"Either way. Most just dump the body in the sea or something. I've never heard of anyone doing something special with it. Honestly, shrouded don't usually leave bodies behind when they die unless they're like us, really young. Once you get old enough, with enough shroud in you, dying requires your body's near total destruction to kill you unless your shroud is exhausted. Plus, anyone who's reached embodiment is technically immortal. You don't really age, and normal stuff like diseases can't touch you. We basically all die violent deaths, or we don't die at all. So no, I don't know what they're doing. It just seems to make them sad for no reason." Again, Lily looked like she wanted to understand, but couldn't follow the reasoning.

"Well," Caeden started slowly. It was difficult to explain because it was honestly something he had never considered. Death rites were just…something you did. A natural part of life. There were no stories about it, no explanation he was aware of. It just was. "I don't actually know why we do death rites, but I can explain what they are, at least on Alturus."

Caeden reached into the neck of his robes, pulling out a necklace of silvery metal with two cylinders the size of his pinky attached to it. "Back home, the dead go through a process we call Remembrance. Their body, if there is one, is taken and placed in a shroud like what they're using. Then everyone who knows the dead will gather together and have a party. Stories are told about the one who died, how they lived, and who they were. The body is placed into a massive fire and burned until only ashes are left. If there is no body, most people burn an empty shroud or sometimes just the wood. Then the ashes are taken and mixed into metal to make these."

He showed her the necklace with its two cylinders. "We call them remembrance chambers, so we remember those we lost. They're given to any immediate family of the dead. These two are my adoptive parents. The only ones who have them are my uncle and me."

Lily reached out and lightly touched the necklace. "What's it made of?"

"Lifenum. It's a weird metal. Super common with one distinct property. It's more durable the less of it there is within a certain area. When it's this small, it's practically indestructible. If you made a shield out of it, it would be decent, but overshadowed by basically anything made by a competent ethersmith. An ethership of the stuff would collapse under its own weight. You could break it by sneezing. It also doesn't hold ether for shit, so shrouded aren't interested in it."

"Weird." Lily shook her head.

The conversation had successfully distracted them from the somber events going on around them long enough for Samantha to appear. It looked like they were going to learn what was to happen next. As much as he was happy to have prevented further harm, Caeden would be glad when they left this city. It was too sad to watch.