8. Curse Plague (13)
8. Curse Plague (13)
Was it safe now?
The girl felt her strength drain away and nearly collapsed right where she stood.
What jolted her back from the brink of unconsciousness was a cold voice beside her.
"Pull yourself together. It's not over."
The girl's drooping eyes flew open.
The monster that had chased her was gone, but she could hardly afford to relax.
Screams and shouts from people still echoed from beyond the alley.
Bestial snarls pursued them.
Silhouettes like crumpled, twisted human bodies cast scattered shadows among the buildings.
And the sound of something being crushed followed without fail.
The girl longed for this morning.
That morning when everyone had been groaning through the Curse Plague felt better than this.
Back then, there had been hope that if they endured, things would get better.
Now there was nothing at all.
The girl couldn't move a single finger.
Her mouth was glued shut and wouldn't open.
An invisible force held her body in place.
She looked up at the mage standing beside her.
Perhaps twice her age?
Hair and skin alike were entirely white.
She wore a black dress under a thin cardigan, with a red beret perched on her head.
Her sharp, well-defined features gave her a doll-like beauty.
The girl realized she had seen her before.
She'd been among the party of the handsome mage who had healed her.
Like that older man, she was a savior who had spared her life.
Without her help, the girl would have been devoured by her own mother right there in the street.
And yet, the girl could not muster any warmth toward Maya.
It was because of the aura she gave off.
Her face showed no emotion whatsoever.
She did not fear the monsters' arrival, nor did she burn with rage at the deaths of the people.
She simply stood there, blank and unfeeling.
Inside, Maya's mind remained composed even amid this hellscape.
She was busy cataloging the information gathered from what she had witnessed.
1. An infected can make contact with another plague victim to transform them into one of the infected.
2. The infected take no interest in corpses. They will only try to consume the living.
3. An infected's physical capabilities are similar to those of a living person, but their bodies will deform purposefully when circumstances demand it.
Lost in thought, Maya's expression did not change.
To the girl who had just lost her parents, that indifferent attitude seemed every bit as chilling as the monsters themselves.
"M... Mama...."
Maya looked at the girl who was trembling while staring at her.
The fear in her eyes was a familiar thing.
Freak. Ghost. Lunatic.
The looks ordinary people gave her.
Maya wanted to ask her.
You were nearly murdered by your own mother—so why do you fear me and call out for your mother?
But she kept the words to herself.
She acted according to her 'learned social graces.'
"Stand up. I've released the telekinesis."
As soon as the words left Maya's mouth, the girl pitched backward as though shoved.
She had been bracing her whole body, trying to put distance between herself and Maya.
Maya watched her until she got to her feet.
Nothing more.
She was merely observing whether the girl's motor functions were intact.
To the girl, however, that cold stare read as some kind of coercion or threat.
She scrambled up, frantically brushing off her clothes.
Satisfied that the girl could walk on her own, Maya pointed toward the empty alley.
"Run, quickly. If you take this path now, you can still make it to the cathedral."
Maya didn't repeat herself.
She walked past the girl and headed in the opposite direction from the cathedral.
The girl hesitated, wondering if she ought to say thank you. In the end, she awkwardly dipped her head toward Maya's retreating back, then sprinted toward the distant hill where the church stood.
Maya glanced back over her shoulder.
She wanted to follow the girl to the cathedral as well.
But her feet would not readily move in that direction.
When the healing race between Wonderstein and Valentina had passed the twentieth patient, she had stepped outside.
Because the only thing she could do inside was watch the Troupe Leader grow more and more precarious with every patient he healed, her eyes filling with worry.
She envied the nun called Valentina.
Unlike her, that woman could stand beside the Troupe Leader while he struggled and lend him a hand with his work.
She even felt an inexplicable resentment toward the Troupe Leader, who was sitting side by side with the nun in such harmony.
Maya didn't know why she'd had such a thought.
It was an emotion she had never experienced before.
How was she supposed to interpret this?
Plenty of words swirled through her head.
But every last one of them was a word she'd never associated with herself in her entire life.
Another scream rang out.
She purged every low-probability hypothesis from her mind, leaving only the single most plausible candidate.
The answer was clear.
She was the Troupe Leader's student.
-Waaah.
Wally let out a plaintive cry, as if displeased with her conclusion.
Be quiet.
This is no time for that kind of agonizing.
Maya reined in her surging magic.
Right. I'm his student.
She looked toward the cathedral again.
The master didn't need anyone to worry about him.
He was wiser and more capable than anyone.
And beside him was that nun who wielded terrifying Holy Power.
With her help... he'd be safe.
As his student, she had one job.
To live up to her teacher's wishes.
What would he have wanted done, had he been here?
The answer was obvious.
Help people.
Maya cast several illusion spells at once.
Figures of terrified villagers appeared.
She had already confirmed that the infected could be fooled by illusions.
She would use these to lure them away.
Maya sent the illusory villagers running behind the residents whom the infected were chasing.
The phantoms dashed down the village's main road.
The fear on their faces was vivid.
The infected abandoned the real residents and pursued the illusions instead.
"Aaaagh!"
"Eat... them!"
"Kweee!"
The phantoms fled with an expertise that was hard to believe—sprinting through mud, vaulting fences.
They were illusions anyway, so they could pull off physically impossible feats without a hitch.
Whenever Maya spotted townspeople being hunted by the infected, she used illusions like that to save them.
***
Not long after we resumed healing, people began flooding into the cathedral.
At first, I assumed they were just folk who'd grown tired of waiting their turn and decided to force the issue.
But many of them had already received treatment.
They were pale and trembling, utterly terrified of something.
For an instant, I worried that some of my own troupe members might have come looking for me in the village.
I'd sent a soldier with a message telling them to at least eat dinner first, but my people weren't exactly known for following my orders.
Ella, especially—she might have tracked me down, suspicious that I was plotting something.
But that wasn't it.
People were babbling about family members and neighbors who had turned into lunatics.
They said those people had become monsters that craved the flesh and blood of the living.
Some testified that they'd even distorted their bodies to attack.
"Could the Curse Plague have progressed further?"
Sir Ivanenko voiced the question, but Valentina shook her head.
"That's impossible! If it had, I would have detected it at once! Above all, the Curse Plague is nothing more than an illness that afflicts the body! It doesn't contain any power to turn people into demons!"
Valentina had no idea what was causing people to rampage.
For me, though, that handful of clues was enough.
I recognized immediately what their descriptions matched.
Fanatics.
They had to be.
Each entry in the TTT series featured its own themed mass-produced enemy type.
TT1 had acrobats, TT2 parade marchers, and TT3 the Fanatics.
The Fanatics were Wonderstein's devotees.
TT3's storyline was fundamentally about the heroes fighting a religious cult that worshipped Wonderstein.
That's why Fanatics popped up obnoxiously often on every map.
Their appearance was similar to that of ordinary victims who had been subjected to Wonderstein's power.
Parts of their bodies were warped and deformed.
But unlike those victims, they could control it to some degree.
They even mimicked Wonderstein's signature techniques, like the "Mantula's Blade" or "Bone Hog Spear."
How had they suddenly appeared here?
TT3's events were still six or seven years in the future.
Did that mean people who worshipped me were already skulking around this place?
This didn't match the TTT I knew.
No matter how much history had changed, it made no sense for random cultists to drop out of the sky when I—their Cult Leader—was right here and hadn't even made any yet.
Something else had to be at work.
I racked my memory for in-game details.
Fanatics.
How did Wonderstein create them?
I was certain the lore said something about a ritual where they drank his blood...
"Mr. Wonderstein, are you all right?"
A large floral ornament filled my field of vision.
Valentina had thrust her face in front of mine, her pink hair swaying.
"I'm fine."
I even put on a smile, but Valentina's worried expression stayed put.
"You were wearing that same smile when you were about to keel over and die! The word of a practiced liar like you simply isn't to be trusted!"
It was a half-joke.
But with my nerves already taut from the possibility that the Fanatics' appearance might expose Wonderstein's identity, I let an unnecessarily prickly remark escape.
"Heh heh. Of course not. How could anyone trust a Madosa like me?"
Valentina's face visibly fell.
"Ah... no, that's not what I meant...."
Just then, a heavy thud echoed as the thick solid-wood doors slammed shut.
The last villager had entered, and the cathedral's main gate was barred.
Soldiers with spears stood guard in front of it.
I looked around for Maya.
That easily spotted shock of white hair was nowhere to be found.
A mage of her caliber was unlikely to fall prey to mere Fanatics, yet I worried.
If only my Status Window were functional, I could use the new ability I'd gotten after reaching 150 Fame...
As I was stewing over that, a young man stepped forward from among the villagers.
"Just a moment!"
Every villager's eyes locked onto him.
The soldier beside me recognized him and shouted.
"Aren't you the one who just went to the mage's circus troupe as a messenger?"
"That's right. Everyone, hear me out! I saw something unspeakable there."
The terror and revulsion etched on his face made my stomach sink.
He described what he'd witnessed.
Monsters chatting gleefully about how best to cook and eat humans, debating what the most entertaining way to kill them would be.
"A pack of monsters?"
"You're saying you run a monster circus?"
Sir Ivanenko stared at me with a horrified expression.
The moment I heard the young man's account, I recognized it as dialogue from the troupe's script.
I laughed calmly and explained how absurd this 'misunderstanding' was.
Most of the villagers' faces relaxed, but the young messenger and Sir Ivanenko remained unconvinced.
"So it is true that they are monster troupe members, correct?"
"Yes. But they are merely people whose appearances are a little unusual."
"Ha! I'm sure that's the case! But why were they born looking that way? Everyone! Have you heard of 'the Cursed'?"
The young man turned to the crowd, raising his voice.
Sir Ivanenko shot me a bitter look.
Most of the villagers had no idea what the young man was talking about.
The Curse Plague was a terrifying thing they'd only heard of through rumors; it would be stranger if country folk like them were well-versed in its symptoms and aftereffects.
The young man's expression turned grim, like a man about to reveal a dreadful secret.
"Apart from its symptoms and fatality rate, the Curse Plague's aftereffects are no small matter either."
At those words, I felt a nagging sense of foreboding.
"Even if you survive the plague, there is a high probability you will become sterile. You could call it a wound left by the Devolut that has ravaged your body. More than that, pregnancy itself is the problem. In some ways, it's a far graver issue."
He swallowed hard, then delivered the crucial piece of information.
"The children of those who caught the Curse Plague are born deformed at a very high rate. Dwarfism or a skin condition is on the mild end of the scale. More commonly, an infant may be born with multiple heads or arms, or else with a hideous appearance that doesn't belong in this world at all."
Most faces in the room twisted in horror.
I ground my teeth inwardly.
The Curse Plague, Devolut, the monster troupe.
I hadn't expected everything to be linked in such a way.