Magic, as a rule, is not kind. It has no need to be. It is a fundamental element to existence on Ninurta –areas with little to no mana density are barren of most life. My creation is not designed to cripple magic but rather to allow us mere mortals a chance to survive its whims. Perhaps this is a mistake. But it must be done. My hope is that humanity will never again fall victim to magic's mercurial nature.

  - An excerpt taken from the writings of the System Creator; dated 00SY.

  ~

  1452SY, Residential Wing of The Church of Nin

  Seer Verrin had come down with another fever—the second in as many weeks, and all the more devastating for it. The Sisters of Nin alternated watch, trading cool wet rags for warm ones nearly every fifteen minutes. The Seer was, thankfully, mostly unconscious, though they awoke occasionally, eerily still and silent, before the fever took them again into a fitful slumber. Every above-Journeyman [Doctor], [FolkHealer] and [Alchemist] from anywhere within wagon-travel distance had been summoned to heal the Seer. None of the treatments had worked. The HighPriest had organised a group healing chant to reach out to Nin themself. The only response the god had given was some paltry experience points. The Seer was dying, and nobody in the Church knew why – or how to save them.

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  Today the Sister watching them, a young woman who had only joined the Church shortly before the first fever had come, was named Cora. She was quietly fretting at their bedside. Head Sister Marriot had assigned her the night watch, for the Seer rarely came to when the Twin Moons were in the sky.

  Sister Cora all but fell off her stool in shock when Seer Verrin sat bolt upright and turned their pale, baldhead towards her, just as the clock struck midnight. Their voice, delicate and rough from a lifetime of limited use, was barely audible as they spoke.

  'She comes. He falls. Ninurta prevails, against all odds.'

  And then they...disappeared.There was no bright flash of light, no sound of thunder that cracked the air. There was, however, a notification blinking in the Sister's field of vision that disturbed her more than the sudden vanishing of the Church of Nin's highest-ranking member.

  //The Last Seer of Nin is one with the stars. Sister Cora Markusdotter, as the sole witness to Verrin's departure and final prophecy, you have been granted the Unique Title of {The Last Herald of Nin}. Spread their last words. Prepare Ninurta for what is to come.//

  Cora Markusdotter had not been a Sister of Nin for long. She did not have the [Skills] that most of them had to prevent emotions from taking away their sense of decorum. So, she did what most would do when presented with the concept of seeing the leader of their faith seemingly turning to stardust and being granted a high-tier Title in response. She screamed, loud and shrill enough that the stained-glass windows lining the Seer's bedchambers cracked in several places.