Chapter 74
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: 17. Demon Plague. (1)
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Heaven and earth, gods and spirits, we beseech you.
Grant us love and faith and...
"Love and faith, my ass—."
A skeletal-thin woman glared ferociously at him as if refusing to listen, growling like a beast. The plump man flinched in shock at her murderous aura and stumbled back. But she didn't stop there—she shook the rattle-topped staff wildly, raising her voice even higher.
We beseech you, we beseech you.
Heaven and earth, gods and spirits, we beseech you—!
"It's useless, so get the hell out—!"
With the power of love and faith and mercy.
Drive away this wicked evil.
Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling.
As the bells rang out, the woman began to sneer. Then she abruptly cut off her laugh, shot to her feet, and leaped right in front of him in one bound. With a sharp thwack, her foot slammed into the wall.
"One more word out of you, and I'll smash your mouth with this foot."
—!!
Even in her near-death state, she could still shut up a fake shaman. She shot him one last savage glare, spun on her heel, and kicked the iron door with the tip of her foot—bang bang.
"Open it."
As the heavy iron door creaked open, the woman slipped out and climbed the passage to the surface. Ugh—. The moment sunlight hit her, nausea surged up.
...She'd hoped against hope because of her confidence, but sure enough, the treatment failed again.
A middle-aged man standing nearby with his hands behind his back watched and sighed in lament, closing his eyes.
"...No good this time either...?"
The maids hurriedly draped a thick cloth over the woman's head. They supported her and rushed her back into the mansion.
The shaman who had groaned his way up from the basement prostrated himself before the count. The middle-aged man stared coldly at the back of his head on the floor.
"...Didn't you say it would work?"
"I-I'm sorry... It's beyond my abilities...!"
The confident voice from moments ago, insisting it would definitely work, was gone—replaced only by a coward's trembling excuses. If he hadn't said anything, there wouldn't have been any expectations. But to boast when he couldn't deliver—how could the count not seethe with rage?
"Get out. I can't stand the sight of you. Leave my territory right now by this road. Right now—!"
As the count pointed and shouted, the fat shaman yelped in fright and waddled away. He let out a long sigh and slowly followed the path his daughter had been carried down.
The deepest room in the grand mansion. Every window boarded up, lit only by a couple of flickering candles.
The skeletal-thin woman sat cross-legged on the floor. Sensing the count enter, she opened her eyes.
Even in this state, her eyes burned fiercely, unyielding. ...The count thought she truly had an iron will. Beyond being his daughter, he genuinely admired her as a human being.
"What did I tell you?"
"...We have to try everything possible."
"I can tell at a glance... whether someone can save me or not."
"Your father wants to grasp at any straw."
"I'll overcome it with mental fortitude."
"Some things in this world can't be overcome with mental fortitude!"
"That's because their mental fortitude is weak. I'm still lacking too. I need to refine it further."
That stubborn fool—!
Of course, where did that stubbornness come from? The count wouldn't yield either. He intended to stick to his ways.
As he turned to leave the room, his daughter softly called after him.
"Even if I die, let me die with honor."
"...Who's dying?!"
The count scolded her sternly and left the room.
The woman closed her eyes again and sank into meditation.
But she was tormented endlessly by horrific visions.
"Shit...!"
...It's because my mental fortitude is lacking. Mental fortitude..., mental fortitude, is lacking...!
···
Viscount Biya, lord of the central city of Markus, had endlessly sought healers for his daughter. He spared no one with even a hint of healing skill—be they priests, shamans, or frauds. ...Yet half a year later, not one had improved her condition, let alone cured it.
His beloved second daughter, Natasha Gondor Biya—precious enough to cherish like the apple of his eye—was wasting away, now so gaunt it was painful to look at.
A normal person would have died long ago, but she clung to life through a miracle. Solely on the resolve to overcome this cursed incurable disease with her own power. ...But by now, even she must realize it was beyond her alone.
And so, time dragged on without promise.
Around the time news reached Viscount Biya that a large group of necromancers had been successfully repelled from the great western city of Behimruod.
When no one had stepped forward to treat her illness for over a fortnight, a man came to see the count.
An unusually handsome young man. ...But nothing about him screamed healer.
Yet the count, truly at his wit's end, hoped even for a blind squirrel finding a nut.
"Allen Dwight Pomwell, at your service, my lord. Leader of the Allen Mercenary Corps."
Not a priest or shaman—he hadn't expected a mercenary leader.
Of course, plenty of mercenary leaders had come before. They usually tried to peddle mysterious drugs or items from some secret source at exorbitant prices. But no matter how desperate the count was, he wasn't naive enough to fall for their nonsense.
He wanted to throw them in prison for insulting the lord of the castle, but worried it might scare off real healers, so he sent them away politely.
"...So, how do you plan to treat my daughter?"
"It's hard to say here. Seeing her condition comes first."
"Does seeing her change anything?"
"That's how we find the cause."
Unwavering confidence, without a hint of hesitation. Sure, such people weren't unheard of, but the count was certain this one wasn't just a peddler.
"Very well. Let's go now. ...Do you need any special preparations?"
"No preparations, but I have one companion."
"Understood. Do as you wish."
The two left the count's office together. Outside stood a woman with an eyepatch. Dressed in nun's robes, she seemed from that line of work.
The count's trust ticked up a notch. She didn't feel like some random charlatan... .
Since the meeting was sudden, the count said he'd explain the situation to his daughter first and hurried off. Allen and the blind saintess followed leisurely with the guide.
Natasha, meditating alone in her room and battling her illness, greeted the visiting count politely.
"What brings you here?"
"A healer has come."
It had been a while since such news, but Natasha wasn't thrilled. Most who had come before were frauds not worth the ink to write "cure."
And she was convinced this would be no different. ...Someone who could cure demon plague just dropping from the sky?
...Overcoming it with mental fortitude felt more realistic.
But with her father fighting so hard, she couldn't turn away as his daughter.
"Understood."
Soon after, a man and woman entered her room. One was strikingly handsome, the other a nun with an eyepatch.
The man asked the count to give them some space. Her father looked to her, and she nodded lightly.
There was no reason for them to harm a dying woman, and she still had some strength left. She was just minimizing movement to conserve energy.
Once the count left, only the three remained in the dimly lit room, lit by a few candles.
"Allen Dwight Pomwell."
"Odd-Eye."
The pair greeted her, but Natasha just nodded once silently. Do your thing. Her eyes still brimmed with distrust.
Before doing anything, Allen warned Natasha.
"No matter what you see, don't panic. Staying calm will be best for you."
Hah. Natasha snorted inwardly.
"Don't worry. Nothing will surprise me."
"...Good."
The handsome man smiled faintly and nodded to the blind woman. She removed her eyepatch.
———!!!!
The moment she saw those abyss-black eyes, Natasha felt utterly exposed. Nausea surged simultaneously.
A, ahhh.
She blinked, and suddenly she was falling somewhere. That terrifying sense of floating... And right below, a grotesquely massive monster with jaws wide open, waiting for her to drop in.
Aaahhh, aaaaaaahhhhh———!!!!!
Horror choked her. She wanted to live. She thrashed desperately to live. But nothing changed. She just plummeted endlessly toward the monster's maw.
I want to live, I want to liiiive—!!
Something grabbed her chin then, yanking her up from the darkness like surfacing from water.
"Aaaahhh—!!"
Like a drowning man gasping for air, Natasha clung to him desperately. To live. Because she didn't want to die.
"Shhh..., it's okay. It's okay. I've got you. You're safe now... ."
Allen gently stroked the skeletal-thin back of the trembling Natasha clinging to him, soothing her.
At that moment, the count burst in at her scream.
"What happened—?!"
He froze seeing Natasha panting raggedly in Allen's arms. The first reaction he'd seen from her since the demon plague struck.
Odd-Eye, eyepatch back on, exchanged a nod with Allen.
And Allen said to the count,
"We've... found the cause."