Chapter 75
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: 17. Demon Plague (2)
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Nicknamed the Demon Plague.
A random event that cropped up frequently in Guild Master. As the name implied, it was truly random, so even Allen couldn't predict who would fall victim to it. This damn game loved its randomness so much that even after hundreds or thousands of playthroughs, the broad strokes might align, but the finer details of the scenarios always varied. Hell, even key named characters in each chapter could drop dead without warning.
Anyway, the cause of the Demon Plague was the demon seeds scattered across the continent. When one of those latched onto a human body, boom—Demon Plague.
Though it was random, named characters tended to get hit the most. Demon seeds were picky like that. If they were going to take root anyway, why not choose a prime host?
...Still, who would've thought it would be her—Natasha.
The unlucky soul struck by this rotten plague was none other than the swordswoman of steel will and indomitable spirit, Marcus's Black Lion.
Natasha Gondor Biya.
Petite in stature but renowned across the continent for her explosive swordsmanship, this was the female swordmaster who would join one of the top ten mercenary corps after the mid-game. Allen never dreamed she'd be on death's door from the Demon Plague.
No wonder a game with sky-high entry barriers and random elements like this got called a luck-based trash fest.
That said, it was sheer luck that the Allen Mercenary Corps was heading north to Marcus instead of south to the Holy Kingdom. And they'd stuck around with the Blind Saintess right up until Chapter 1 wrapped, instead of ditching her for the Holy Kingdom the moment it ended. Plus, since the Demon Plague had such a bad rep, people usually kept quiet about seeking healers—but the count had thrown caution to the wind, broadcasting far and wide that he was scouring the lands for someone to save his daughter.
This was purely the product of coincidence and effort.
If Natasha survived thanks to this, it would truly be heaven-sent. In the early game, a Demon Plague diagnosis was basically a death sentence.
Of course, knowing the cause didn't guarantee a fix. The stronger the host it rooted in, the more powerful the demon it spawned by devouring their life force.
Natasha's stats, a total wreck from the Demon Plague. Even if she overcame it, there was no guarantee she'd fully recover to her former glory—but she was still a tantalizing prospect. Her traits proudly included [Genius], and she'd catch the eye of a top ten corps leader later on. Her talent was beyond question. ...Truth be told, without the Demon Plague, they never would've had a shot at crossing paths like this.
Shaken, she'd lain back on the bed for a moment, but now she pushed herself up again. Her gaze locked straight onto the man she'd just clung to. Allen met her scrutinizing eyes without flinching.
...These two are different.
Natasha could sense it clearly: this pair was nothing like anyone she'd met before. What she'd glimpsed moments ago wasn't an illusion. It was that horrific thing lurking inside her...!
"How's your body feeling?"
"Better now. ...For the moment."
Marcus's Black Lion looked gaunt and pathetic, but her fierce eyes still burned with the fire of life.
"You said you know the cause, right?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
The count's face was etched with desperate curiosity. Knowing the cause was the first step to beating the Demon Plague.
Allen let out a long sigh and pointed to the door.
"...For now, shall we head out together? There's something we need to find first..."
"My daughter too?"
"Yes. She needs to come with us."
The count glanced at Natasha, who nodded eagerly, signaling no problem. Even if there was, she had to go this time. Something told her she had to.
And so, Natasha—swathed head to toe in a shawl—was carried out on a servant's back. The Blind Saintess, her eyepatch off once more, let her odd eyes trace the black, elongated line emanating from Natasha, while the rest of the group trailed close behind.
They ventured into a dim corner of the count's castle, untouched by human feet for ages. The count couldn't fathom why the nun was leading them here, but he followed silently. He'd learn the reason soon enough.
After trudging along for what felt like ages, the Blind Saintess halted abruptly in an overgrown clearing. The place had an eerie, foreboding vibe. Right there, her odd eyes bored into the ground.
"...It's here."
She donned her eyepatch again and tapped the unremarkable grass with her foot. Nothing suspicious to anyone else, but the count ordered shovels brought at once.
The servants began digging furiously at the spot she'd indicated. Relentlessly, without pause. Until their master's command to stop.
The others stood in solemn silence, watching.
When they'd dug down about knee-deep, one servant jolted—"Ah!"—as his shovel hit something. ...Not a rock.
"M-Master, there's something here—!"
The sweat-drenched servant's shout under the blazing sun prompted exchanged glances among the onlookers. Allen nodded knowingly, as if he'd expected it.
Convinced by the nun's words that something was indeed there, the count tamped down his surging excitement and ordered them to dig more carefully. The servants went at it like madmen.
And soon, the thing's true nature was revealed.
"It's a door. An iron door...!"
"A door?"
Why the hell was a door buried underground?
Allen rattled off a rough hypothesis.
"Probably an old warehouse or storage shed from ages ago, abandoned and forgotten over time. ...Yeah, definitely a perfect spot for a demon seed to quietly bear fruit."
"Can you explain in more detail?"
Intrigued by the mercenary leader's loaded words, the count pressed for elaboration. The young man faced the lord squarely and spelled it out.
"The Demon Plague afflicting your daughter stems from the continent's wandering demon seeds—malevolent energy. By chance, one parasitized her body and took root. ...Of course, this isn't common knowledge."
True to the leader's caveat, it was all new to the count.
He'd even shelled out a fortune to the magic tower for advice on the Demon Plague, only to get word of its destruction instead of answers. Just his luck. Right in the midst of his despair, Allen had swooped in like a prince on a white horse.
"So, that seed devouring my daughter's life...it's fruited down there?"
"Exactly. It usually fruits in hidden spots like this, nearly impossible to find. Yours seems to be right there."
Without Allen's crew, they'd never have found it.
"Could that fruit be a demon beast?"
The count posed the question with near certainty. The moment Allen mentioned malevolent energy, anyone could've guessed the fruit was a demon.
"Not always, but usually. I can't say for sure what's inside, though. That's why we shouldn't open it rashly. ...Better to prepare thoroughly first."
The count now trusted Allen completely. How could he not, after they'd pinpointed this unsuspected spot?
He closed his eyes briefly, then fixed the leader with a steely gaze.
"If we destroy it, my daughter lives? That's what you're saying?"
"...I believe so."
Ooh. Everyone lit up like the deed was already done.
But the count kept his grave expression, closing his eyes for deep breaths.
It was a hard-won clue after endless torment. ...But it wasn't over. If anything, this might be the real beginning.
Finding the solution mattered, but so did the means.
"You're a mercenary leader, right?"
"Yes."
"...If I hire your corps, will you take the job?"
Someone who could unravel his daughter's mysterious illness in one go had to lead an elite outfit.
Such a group couldn't be bought with coin alone. They'd need patronage, trust—maybe more.
Allen grasped the mission's gravity and didn't commit lightly.
"As a father, I beg you. ...Can you help me?"
The leader sighed deeply.
"...Not an easy task."
"I know. I'll provide every support I can. Triple the fee—no, five times over. And separate payment for getting this far."
No response. The count upped the ante.
"I'll be your patron if you want. ...So please, just this once, help us..."
His voice dripped with desperation.
Allen glanced at the shawl-wrapped Natasha, then back to the count.
Saving Natasha...The scales tipped.
"...Understood. But no guarantees of success."
"Of course. I know. I'm not unreasonable. If it fails, the blame's mine alone. You'll still get paid in full. ...Would I abandon the benefactor who fought for my daughter? Never. From now on, you're my comrade. ...Thank you. Truly."
Marcus's lord, Count Biya, gripped Allen's arm in gratitude.
Setting aside circumstances, the count was genuinely likable. Allen wouldn't help at a loss, but with generous pay, he'd give his all.
Patronage from House Biya, plus five times the fee—!
...Had to ask.
Five times the fee neared three thousand gold coins. A fortune, but a baronial house like this could swing it.
His heart raced at the thought, but Allen stayed cool. No spilling the soup now.
Still, no way he'd tackle this solo. Unknown what lurked in that fruit. Better to share the risk with two or three other corps.
The host hadn't died yet, so it wasn't overwhelming—but this was fruit fed on Natasha's life force. Amateurs wouldn't cut it.
"Hire other corps too, besides us. Who knows what's down there."
"Agreed. As you wish."
"...And we'll need to check on your daughter's condition often. Can we move our lodging here?"
"Absolutely. Stay as long as needed."
And so, the Allen Mercenary Corps joined House Biya.