Chapter 248
Chapter 248
"Unreasonable coercion?"
At Logan's words, Fabian nodded without hesitation.
"Yes. Precisely."
"You'd better explain yourself properly, Fabian. Unless you want to be flogged for insulting the king."
Fabian's expression twisted at that.
—A priest may be punished by divine law, but never by human law.
Though such records no longer existed, it was an unwritten rule upheld since ancient times—one that the temples of the Nine Deities had enforced across every dynasty on the continent. To defy it now was unthinkable.
"That is precisely the problem, Your Majesty. You have no right to coerce us priests."
Pfft.
Logan let out a dry laugh.
"So, after donating a fortune to the temple and personally requesting aid, I'm supposed to just stand by while the manpower I paid for slacks off right in front of me?"
"If you are dissatisfied with our conduct, you may lodge a formal complaint with the temple. If we have truly erred, the temple will punish us—according to divine will."
As he spoke, a confident smirk spread across Fabian's face.
And why wouldn't it? There was no logical flaw in his argument.
No king in the world would willingly oppose the temple—no, oppose the gods themselves. The moment a ruler did, the majority of the kingdom's citizens and nobles would turn their backs on him.
Naturally.
"Is that so? Then I suppose I'll have to consult the temple later."
Even this terrifying Transcendent King would have no choice but to back down—
Swoosh.
"...Huh?"
Flash.
"—After I kill you."
A golden aura, thick with murderous intent, pressed against Fabian's plump neck, radiating an overwhelming presence.
"Eeek!"
Two priests standing near Fabian collapsed onto their backsides, scrambling away in terror. Unable to move, Fabian stood frozen under the oppressive weight of the aura, leaving his companions to scream in his stead.
"AAAAAH!"
"Sp-spare us...!"
This was a scene none of the priests could have ever imagined.
As panic spread among the onlookers, it was the knights—not the priests—who stepped in to restrain Logan.
"Y-Your Majesty! Please calm yourself!"
"Your Majesty! Killing a priest—let alone a high-ranking one—would spell disaster!"
"Disaster?"
But Logan merely scoffed at the knights' desperate pleas, his gaze fixed on Fabian, whose face had turned deathly pale.
"Hardly."
"...Huh?"
While the knights exchanged bewildered looks, Logan grinned savagely and tapped Fabian's chin with the tip of his sword.
"High Priest Fabian. Tell me—what exactly do you think will happen if I kill you? Hmm?"
At the provocation, the terror in Fabian's eyes shifted.
Once the initial shock faded, reason returned.
Clench.
"The temple will never let this stand, Your Majesty! The MacLaine Kingdom will crumble from its very foundations!!"
Where fear had once been, fury now surged.
That fury gave Fabian the strength to shout.
But the target of his rage merely smirked.
"You overestimate your worth, Fabian."
"Only the temple holds the right to punish priests! By crossing that line, Your Majesty, you invite consequences far beyond what you can bear!"
His growling voice grew louder with each word, regaining its vigor.
And yet—
"True. The consequences would be severe."
"...?"
"A high priest's ransom would cost, what... ten million gold?"
"W-what—?!"
"And if I toss in a dozen or so low-ranking priests who were slacking off with you, that'd run me about thirty million gold. Definitely expensive. For trash."
"Such sacrilege—!"
"Care to wager whether Archbishop Pamiel will take the money and keep quiet—or whether he'll push for a pointless crusade against a kingdom that offers him no benefit?"
Logan's crimson eyes, cold as ice, bore into Fabian.
Meeting that gaze, Fabian recalled the archbishop of his sect—the highest-ranking priest in the kingdom—and fell silent, his face pale once more.
Rumors of Archbishop Pamiel Geirnheim's greed were already widespread, and Fabian, having interacted with him frequently, knew those rumors to be true.
"I'd rather not waste money needlessly, so do your damn job, Priest. Understood?"
The golden aura, shimmering with frost, tapped lightly against Fabian's cheek.
"If you don't want to, just say so. I'll happily donate a bit more and summon other priests in your place."
Logan sneered at Fabian's trembling form before sheathing his sword.
"Now, everyone—back to work! The fastest way to end this is to heal the sick and eradicate the plague! Especially you priests—slacking off won't be forgiven!"
His booming voice echoed through the village.
"...So that's what happened."
Shortly after the incident, Illya—having finished healing patients and replenishing his depleted divine power through prayer—listened as the temple knights recounted the events.
"Will you remain silent about this?"
At the words of Timo, a knight of the temple, Illya shook his head slowly.
"What do you mean?"
"Huh?"
"You said the king threatened the priests to stop them from slacking off, didn't you?"
"Ah..."
"We came here to aid the suffering people. Yet some among us chose to slack off... Had I been there, I wouldn't have intervened either."
Illya's face showed not even a trace of anger.
'A true priest—rare and pure.'
Timo was reminded once again that the bishop he served embodied the very essence of priesthood.
But he didn't forget to caution him about something far more critical.
"Still, you must remember one thing—the king can see the flow of divine power."
"Ah, yes. That is remarkable. The traces of the gods are invisible to the eye, after all."
"Which is precisely why it must be reported to the temple. And..."
Timo hesitated, trailing off.
Illya pressed him.
"...And? What else?"
"...This isn't certain, but..."
Exchanging a glance with his fellow knight Russell, the latter stepped forward.
"We've seen the king's aura touch priests multiple times without leaving a single wound. If my memory serves, that means..."
An aura—known as the power of destruction—making contact with human flesh yet causing no harm. Such control was proof of mastery, meaning...
"...It's a skill only possible for mid-tier Aura Users and above."
"Huh? But I heard he awakened as a Transcendent just last year?"
"Exactly. That's what makes it even more astonishing."
"Haah..."
As Logan MacLaine's presence grew even more imposing in the minds of Illya and the temple knights—
At a tent on the village outskirts, Henderson raised his thumb at Logan in admiration.
"Magnificent, Your Majesty."
Seeing the previously sluggish priests now moving briskly, he couldn't help but marvel. He was genuinely impressed by his liege's unexpected method of disciplining the arrogant priests.
But then—
"Whew, thank goodness. Honestly, why won't they listen unless you threaten them?"
The imposing figure who had just cowed the priests was gone, replaced by a man exhaling a long sigh of relief.
"...Y-Your Majesty?"
"Ten million gold? I'd have to sell my soul to afford that right now. Phew, thank heavens that coward backed down. Ugh."
Logan was acutely reminded that, despite the newfound confidence from the six Force Cores pulsating within him, the pressure of financial ruin weighed far heavier.
"Henderson, you ever hear any rumors about money falling from the sky?"
"......"
Henderson vowed to take what he just heard to his grave.
Three days had passed since Logan and the relief party arrived in Raphtan.
Thanks to the now-diligent priests, no new deaths had occurred among the gathered patients.
But while fatalities had stalled, full recoveries remained rare despite aggressive divine healing. Worse, new patients from surrounding villages were being transported in, steadily increasing their numbers.
"Still no leads on a cure?"
"...My apologies, Your Majesty."
Gilbert, the representative of the Healers' Guild, bowed his head once more.
"Based on the villagers' accounts, we've been examining symptoms from the onset, but beyond fever reducers, we've yet to devise an effective treatment. Even those are uncertain to—"
"—Be effective?"
"...Yes."
Logan's expression hardened.
The priests were doing their part—even if it was under duress rather than willingness.
Now, the healers needed to deliver.
"So you're saying you've made zero progress so far?"
"Not exactly."
"Explain."
"Little is definitively known about this plague. However, after cross-referencing records of past plagues with similar symptoms—particularly the Lestaboom outbreak—we've found..."
As Gilbert's explanation dragged on, Logan's brow furrowed.
"Summarize."
"...Lestaboom typically took over a week to manifest after exposure. Until then, there were no symptoms."
"No symptoms at all?"
"Yes. Many illnesses have incubation periods. Even common colds—"
"Shorten it!"
"...There's a period where the disease is present but shows no symptoms. For Lestaboom, that was a week."
"Meaning this one's different."
"Yes. We estimate three days."
"Three days? So it's more dangerous."
"Ah, no, not exactly."
"...No?"
"A shorter incubation means symptoms appear sooner after infection. For the infected, it's urgent—but from an epidemic standpoint, it makes containment easier if managed properly."
"...Complicated."
"To simplify—"
"No, that's enough. So what's the plan?"
"Quarantine anyone who's had contact with patients within the last three days as potential carriers. Treat them like confirmed cases. That should halt the spread quickly."
Gilbert's logic was sound.
But the first response was a cold sneer.
"Quacks, as expected..."
From among the priests praying to replenish their divine power, a mocking voice rang out.
The middle-aged priest wore a spiteful expression—the same man who had clashed with Logan earlier.
"Fabian!"
Bishop Illya moved to stop him, but—
"Spouting nonsense about 'incubation periods' again! Disease is a divine trial, not some cowardly ambush lying in wait!"
Gilbert immediately countered.
"The phenomenon is real. Surely even priests have caught colds before taking vows. Even common illnesses—"
"Priests don't catch colds."
"Wha—"
Gilbert stared at the priest in disbelief.
"Brother Fabian. These are our colleagues, here to aid the people. Please refrain from pointless arguments."
At Illya's words, Fabian clicked his tongue and turned away.
Though his disrespect toward the bishop remained, Fabian was technically a priest of Aion, the God of Water and Agriculture—a different sect. Since Illya hadn't issued a direct order, he couldn't enforce discipline beyond this.
With a sigh, Illya turned back to Gilbert.
"Please continue. My apologies for the interruption. We priests will focus on healing—but before we reach our limits, find another solution."
Though many priests struggled to hide their displeasure, none dared voice it like Fabian had.
Gilbert sighed quietly before resuming.
"Regarding those already lost to the plague..."
"Hm?"
"...Their bodies should be cremated, not buried."
All eyes in the tent snapped back to him.
"Is there a reason?"
"The Healers' Guild collaborates worldwide, sharing data. We've identified the cause of sudden, severe illnesses as 'bacteria.' And we suspect the easiest vector for spreading these bacteria... is the corpses of those killed by them."
—Ah!
While most grimaced at the idea, Logan's mind flashed with a sudden memory.