Chapter 136
Chapter 136
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: Traces (4)
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"I took it without permission too."
Galen's gaze flicked briefly toward Diana as he said that, then returned to Varga. Reading the implication in that glance, Varga spoke up.
"No need to worry about Sal. I guarantee it."
"I'll trust you. This is Lord Droy's blood."
"Droy? Of the Oceanis family?"
"Yes. Have you heard he recovered?"
"Word is it was thanks to your group. Pretty obvious who did it."
"To be precise, we didn't treat his original illness. We just happened to find the cause that had made it worse—a tumor."
"Must've been major surgery."
"Snagging a bit of blood in the process wasn't hard."
"Why take it?"
"...Huh?"
A strange groan interrupted. Lilia snapped out of her reverie, realizing she'd let it slip unconsciously.
The stiff atmosphere had suddenly softened. Galen burst out laughing and asked,
"Mind sorted out now?"
"I think I get it a little... Ah, sorry anyway."
Lilia bowed her head toward Varga.
"No matter. Nothing to apologize for in the first place."
Varga cut in sharply.
"More importantly, Lord Galen, care to continue?"
"Of course. It was at Lilia's request."
"Pardon? What was?"
"His Excellency the Archbishop asked why I took it."
Galen pointed to the vial in Varga's hand.
Lilia had been lost in thought and missed the whole exchange, but her sharp mind pieced it together instantly.
"Oh, that. Right! I felt something off during the Family Head's ritual, so I asked my brother."
"...Something off?"
"I don't know how to describe it—just a faint, unpleasant vibe?"
"Are you sure? Meaning, was it just a hunch, or something you sensed?"
"Probably the latter? If it were the former, it'd change, but it's the same feeling every time."
"Hmm..."
"I thought it was just me at first, but Brother felt something similar. So I figured I'd check it out!"
"...You too? Were you just saying that to humor Bishop Lilia?"
"No reason to humor her on something like this. Of course, I couldn't explain the feeling either."
Varga's expression grew grave as he spoke with Lilia and Galen in turn. He turned his head.
"Bishop Diana."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"You haven't told Bishop Lilia yet, have you?"
"No, I never brought it up. But... now, maybe a little..."
"Why is that?"
"Because Bishop Lilia turned down the offer."
"What?"
"She says she has no intention of ending her pilgrimage..."
Varga hadn't known why Diana asked if Galen was a gem. He certainly hadn't expected Lilia to reject the vice-commander position of the Holy Knight Order.
His expression darkening further, Varga pondered for a long moment before speaking.
"Bishop Lilia."
"Yes."
"I won't ask you to end your pilgrimage. No need to join the Holy Knight Order. But could you assist Bishop Diana for a while?"
"Is it... important?"
"Extremely. It involves saving lives."
"Ah."
He hadn't meant to, but Varga had hit on the perfect way to persuade her.
If she hadn't known, maybe she'd have brushed it off—but ignoring a call to save lives wasn't in her wiring.
The pre-pilgrimage Lilia would've accepted without hesitation. She wouldn't have even rejected the Holy Knight Order's offer to begin with.
"What about Brother, then...?"
"It's not like you'll die apart for a bit."
"...True. Guess no choice."
Varga's jab left Lilia pouting.
Galen, listening in, looked puzzled.
"Um, Your Excellency?"
"Speak."
"Feels like the talk's naturally excluding me."
"...Planning to butt in?"
"Is it the kind of thing outsiders can't join?"
"Not that, but..."
"Or do you not trust me?"
"Definitely not."
Varga answered promptly.
His skills were beyond question, and his track record of flawlessly handling church commissions spoke for itself.
Simply put...
"I was actually considering you. You've been stuck taking our jobs without refusing. This means you're off the hook."
"Think you've got it wrong... I took church commissions because they looked interesting, not because I couldn't say no."
Galen smirked.
"Bringing the blood was curiosity too. I won't pry into church secrets if it's sensitive, but otherwise, I'd like answers."
"You'll come along?"
Lilia, slumped at the thought of parting, perked up instantly.
Diana glanced at Varga questioningly. After a silent pause, he nodded.
"As long as you don't mind the church using you, I'd gladly accept your help."
"Funny if I suggested it first and then complained."
"Keep it secret."
"Naturally. The church knows I have a tight lip."
"I trust you."
Decision made, Varga got down to business without dragging it out.
"To the point: Reports of a plague in the Southwest Diocese."
"Southwest?"
"Under my jurisdiction too."
Like Daimus overseeing both the Northeast and East Dioceses, Varga managed the South and Southwest. Not enough archbishops.
"We head there?"
"For starters."
"Travel's fine, but..."
Galen tilted his head.
"Does it warrant the central Holy Knight Order? That serious?"
The Holy Knight Order specialized in combat.
Sure, as elite priests they could heal well, but wasn't that a mismatch?
Plus, from Diana leading the talk, it seemed just her trio, not the full order.
Not like they were scraping every available healer either.
If it were pure medical aid, no need for Galen—and certainly no "great secret" talk.
As expected.
"Not treatment I'm asking for. Investigation."
"Investigation?"
"Track the traces of whoever spread it. Eliminate if possible. That's Bishop Diana's mission. Help her."
"...?"
"To explain, I need to go back a bit."
Varga paused, eyeing their confused faces, then continued.
"Seven years ago, the great plague in the western South Diocese. Heard of it?"
"Yes, I know."
"I don't believe it was natural."
"What?!"
Lilia gasped. Galen's eyes narrowed.
"Plagues can be man-made?"
"Miracles are fixed at ten types. Martial arts build on human motion, staying within bounds. Magic's different—theoretically infinite varieties, so anything grotesque is possible."
Varga twisted his lips.
"Church records mention it: ancient evil mages spreading death in varied forms."
"Including one who sowed plagues?"
"Plague, poison, curse—who knows the mechanism? We're not mages. Key point: mass-killing magic existed."
"Why suspect magic in that plague?"
"Damage was so bad, I went to the front lines myself to tend patients. Found the same as you two."
"In the blood."
"Faint trace only I, an archbishop, barely sensed. No idea what. But other plagues later? Nothing."
Once suspicious, oddities piled up.
"It was vicious—most died in days. Yet it spread even after too few left to carry it. Then stopped abruptly."
Could chalk it to church efforts, as the public did.
But Varga, directing quarantine, felt uneasy. Too sudden start, too sudden end.
"Church has countless plague records. This didn't match norms. That trace nagged me—couldn't dismiss as exception. His Holiness didn't find my concerns excessive."
Varga glanced aside.
Diana picked up seamlessly.
"So since then, we dispatch investigators for plagues. This time, sequence shifted—we came for Bishop Lilia, learned of it here."
"Net gain. Saves time on reports to central."
"Yes. Even with days waiting here. Especially since this plague's on our watchlist."
"Something special?"
"Not identical to seven years ago, but deviates from norms again."
"Same culprit possible?"
"Yes. Breakthrough after years of stalemate. Shame about Bishop Lilia declining vice-commander, but otherwise, better."
Gem mage Galen boosted the team's power hugely.
And both he and Lilia sensing traces only an archbishop could? Massive edge.
Varga was too prominent for fieldwork.
Galen and Lilia were subtler, spotting traces on-site—investigation would accelerate.
"Sooner the better. Leave tomorrow morning?"
"Perfect."
"What do you think, Lilia?"
"Great!"
"Then we leave it to you. Neither of us knows the Southwest."
"Leave it to me. I've been several times."
Diana spoke confidently, then gave an awkward smile.
"Though mostly it's the Great Forest, so not much guiding needed."
The blood-red sunset stained the sky thicker than usual, like spilled gore.
Villages should've puffed cooking smoke by now, but this one was deathly silent.
Inevitably so.
In the square, streets, markets, homes.
Indiscriminate—men, women, old, young—villagers lay sprawled everywhere.
Their death-frozen faces vividly showed the agony that twisted their bodies.
Not just people. Livestock, pigs—even a single puppy—none survived.
Not even crows, those corpse-sniffing phantoms.
Two living souls in the village.
"......"
One stood atop a hill overlooking it all, gazing not at the village but the sun.
Or so it seemed—hard to tell.
The hulking figure, head larger than an average man's, was encased head to toe in pitch-black armor.
So meticulously sealed even eyes were barely visible through the visor. Helmet faced the sun, but was he truly watching?
"Here?"
The other living one climbed the hill and spoke.
The middle-aged man had a frivolous air overall, but notably tiny eyes—like perpetual squints, questionable if he saw clearly.
The armored brute didn't turn, didn't twitch. Squint-eyes chattered on undeterred.
"Great work again! As always, spotless today."
"......"
"Leaves us nothing to clean. Feels like getting paid to slack—almost guilty."
"......"
"Nah, not really guilty. Anyway, tomorrow's schedule—"
Squint-eyes's words cut short.
The armored hand shot out, clamping his throat.
Not gently—iron gauntlet dug deep, ripping flesh. Blood sprayed like a fountain.
"Shut your mouth."
A beastly growl rumbled from the helm, finally turning.
"Don't order me."
"Heh, touchy."
Voice crushed, leaking air raggedly, yet his face unchanged. All the creepier.
"Like it or not, you gotta listen?"
"Said don't order."
"Right, not ordering—setting the stage. You know. Been the deal from the start."
No reply from the brute.
Hand released, squint-eyes flopped back like a marionette with cut strings.
Still smirking the same, he said,
"You seem pissed now, so I'll send fresh later. Killing each one annoys me a tad?"
Grinning, he froze—face twisting grotesquely.
The corpse on the ground, long dead, now bore a totally different man's face—smeared in tears, drool, blood.
The brute ignored the horrific shift.
"......"
His eyes, facing the bloody sun again, gleamed with eerie crimson.