The old horse drawn carriage came to a stop at the end of the old dirt road, the small town was silent save for a single twang on a banjo played by an elderly man sitting on the worn wooden porch of a cabin at the city's edge, where he awaited the arrival of the one in the carriage.

The man in the carriage was a young adult with medium length blonde hair. He appeared European, worse a business casual suit, fashionable, but mobile. As if he wished to maintain an outward formality while internally expecting a fight to break out.

He approached the man playing the banjo, the man stroked his long grey beard and asked, "Where them there tools youngin'?"

"I don't need tools I have magics," the man in a suit replied.

"Well keep that between us," The man replied, "Folk round' ere', they ain't kind to mages."

"So the rumors," he asked, "Of... what it's doing to the victims."

"It appeared six days ago," the old man explained, "Mayor all hush hush ya' see. Quiet and secret like."

"Is he inside?" The young man asked.

The old man nodded.

"And my payment?" The young man inquired.

"When he's cured," the old man replied.

The young man nodded and entered. He instantly sensed death in the cabin. The air was putrid with it. It reeked of bile and, a horrid scent the young man knew but could not describe. What was it? He knew this scent somewhere...

He walked across the creaking floors of the damnable place, each step sent a chill up his spine. The air almost appeared green with a sickly miasma as he entered the bed room where a single Chrom sat in his bed, blood leaking from his flesh that has begun to peel from his body. The Chrom coughed up blood, black and putrid, tainted with disease.

"Hello," the young man greeted as he approached, "I am Swoods. Best healer from Fire Emblem city. I'm going to try to heal you. I'm also..."

Swoods, despite not having medical tools had some basic necessities. Vials, gloves, and a face mask, "Going to take a blood sample. Is that OK? Blink twice if that's OK."

The dying man turned slightly, wheezing, and slowly nodded, his eyes glazed over, nodded.

After collecting a smile vile of black blood and looking at it for a moment, Swoods almost felt as if something looked back at him, but brushed this aside as he drew a sigil in the air with his finger and blasted the man with powerful holy magic, to heal, but alas, all it did was momentarily stall. The man coughed and spoke, "Do you... hear them?"

"Them?" Swoods asked.

"Run..." The man replied, his voice raspy and weak, "Run..."

The man coughed violently, vomiting black blood, and drew his last breath.

"So this can't be solved with healing magic," Swoods muttered to himself, "I'm sorry. May you pass on to somewhere better."

Swoods looked around, trying to find some sort of answer in the room. The green malise filled the air as he searched to no avail, finding the room bare, save for a Bible, with the cross inverted on the cover.

He read from it on a random page, but it was not in English or any other language he knew, so he pocketed it, as he thought aloud, "This isn't a Bible. Some spell book?"

"You..." a voice growled, deep and haunting, weak but dangerous, "Not... God..."

Swoods turned in horror to see the Chrom standing now, as if healthy, but his arms dangled at his sides, his eyes black as the blood that dripped from his decayed flesh, "You... not... God!"

The Chrom charged, swinging his blade wildly, without rhyme or reason in a feral fury!

Swoods threw a knife at the undead's throat, slitting it, and leaving the man dead for good.

He decided it best to leave and headed outside as quick as he could to see the man with the banjo sitting, sadly playing his tune, "No good huh?"

Swoods shook his head and asked, "You can keep your money since I didn't do my job. Can you tell me anything about this illness?"

"We don't know what it is," the man sighed, "The folk fall ill, their blood turns black, then them there malaise shows up round' where they at. It's like the disease is manifesting. I hope ya ain't getting a rash. It starts fast and that's the first step. He didn't touch ya did he?"

"No no," Swoods shook his head, "I'm fine."

"One last request," The man with a banjo sighed, "Leave."

"What do you-" Swoods asked before the man coughed up black blood and fell over.

Swoods rushed over to assist but the old man yelled, "Leave! Leave before it's to late!"

Afraid, Swoods backed away but explained, "My friend Boaz ordered me to help these people. I dunno what you guys believe around here but in Fire Emblem City we never leave others to die."

Swoods clapped twice and a young Roy exited the carriage holding a suitcase, his red hair and wide eyes normally full of joy turned to horror as he saw the dying man.

"What are you saying?" The old man asked.

"How infected is Country Music Town?" Swoods demanded.

"Its very hush hush," the old man explained, "On the down low, but spreading. You're not-"

Swoods nodded, "Roy, come on. We're going into the city."

Roy nodded and unsheathed his sword, "Shall I?"

"Old man?" Swoods asked.

"Eh," he chuckled, "Better I die quick then slowly and rise again."

"I'm sorry," Roy sighed as he decapited the old man.

The two looked inward to the city, the sickly air of the cabin contained within, but neither knew what horrid things could await them if this infection, whatever it was spread.

However that's why they had to stop it here. To save many more.

The duo walked into the city, not knowing they entered not a city...

But Hell...

To be continued...