Chapter 185
Chapter 185
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 185
Chapter Title: 76. Malice (2)
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Fiore Brioll's defense of Bejos held firm, refusing to yield even an inch to the Empire's incursions.
Skirmishes broke out here and there, but the Empire never managed to breach the defensive line.
Brioll's borders remained unshakable.
It seemed the Empire's invasion had been repelled.
But then, an unforeseen crisis erupted from the most unexpected quarter.
"Hmm..."
Jermaine tilted his head as he sat across from the patient.
"What did you say the symptoms were?"
"My throat's parched. And I'm constantly hungry..."
"I specialize in treating wounds. For something like that, you'd be better off seeing another priest or a doctor."
"I've seen everyone, and no one knows what's wrong. I just feel like if you shone the light of healing on me, priest, and offered a prayer... God would take care of me."
"You're a devoted soul."
"You bet."
As Jermaine raised his hand toward the patient, a badge signifying membership in the Allied Forces Veterans' Association gleamed on his chest.
"Ah, that badge. Were you with the Allied Forces?"
"Yes. I served as a field priest."
"Good lord. The Allied Forces? You're a hero."
"No, no. I just fought alongside real heroes."
"Hey, that line sounds familiar. Did you ever meet the Third Prince?"
"Meet him? I saw his face every day."
"Man, I'm jealous."
Jermaine examined the patient's face.
It was visibly sallow and gaunt, a clear sign of something gravely wrong.
Healing magic offered some minor relief for illnesses, but nothing like the dramatic results it produced on wounds.
Jermaine invoked his holy spell.
"How's that?"
"Feels good..."
"God is watching over you."
"Yes... I believe..."
Jermaine poured his heart into the prayer as he channeled the holy power, genuinely wishing for the man's well-being.
He'd never seen someone with such a deathly pallor last long. Even if death came, he hoped the soul found its way to a better place.
"Ugh..."
The treatment soon ended.
The man rose, bowed to Jermaine, and staggered out of the room.
"Tsk, tsk..."
As Jermaine clicked his tongue, the assistant priest beside him spoke up.
"I've seen quite a few like him lately."
"Quite a few?"
"Yes."
"He looked completely out of it."
"Tell me about it. So many with those blackened faces showing up—what's going on? It's like their livers all failed at once..."
"A pity."
"Shall I call the next one?"
"Yes."
The assistant poked his head out the door and shouted.
"Next brother, come in!"
He froze mid-sentence.
"Huh?"
"What?"
Jermaine glanced at the assistant.
The back of his head twitched toward the outside, then he slammed the door shut in panic and turned to Jermaine, face drained of color like he'd seen a ghost.
"P-Priest! Th-that, th-that thing..."
"What's wrong?"
"K-Knight! Temple Knight!"
"What's going on?"
"Temple Knight! Call a Temple Knight!"
The assistant babbled frantically, as if possessed.
"What is it? Someone causing trouble?"
"D-Don't go!"
"What?"
Jermaine stood and opened the door to peer outside.
"Huh?"
An unreal scene unfolded before him.
The patient he'd just treated was gnawing at the throat of another waiting patient.
The victim convulsed limply.
Blood trickled from between the attacker's teeth.
Jermaine shouted.
"K-K-Knight!"
The attacker didn't stop, tearing into flesh relentlessly. Blood sprayed. Color returned to its previously blackened face.
Blood smeared across its mouth, it finally hurled the victim aside and turned toward Jermaine.
It no longer looked human.
Jermaine slammed the door shut and locked it.
"Wh-what the hell is that? Why's it doing that?"
"I don't know!"
Jermaine was just as flustered.
It looked exactly like the undead from legends.
One in particular...
"Zombie?"
Spot on.
Jermaine recalled what he knew of zombies.
They lost their reason, craved human blood and flesh, and anyone bitten turned into one just like them.
"Zombies? That's impossible. They're just from stories..."
"B-but we just saw it. You gonna tell me that's normal?"
"B-but maybe that patient just went mad?"
"No. Something's happening."
If something this big was going down, there should have been screams or Temple Knights rushing in to handle it.
But silence reigned.
That meant big trouble.
Jermaine clenched his fist.
"Stay here."
"Priest?"
"I'll check outside."
"A-after seeing that...?"
"I'll be fine."
Jermaine shook his head.
"I can protect myself."
He was an Allied Forces veteran. Cowering in fear wasn't an option.
Not a combat unit, but he'd swung weapons clumsily to defend himself when needed.
Jermaine grabbed a sword from the corner of the treatment room—one a patient had left behind.
"Lucky there's a weapon handy."
"You sure you'll be okay?"
"No choice."
Jermaine cracked the door open and peered out cautiously.
"..."
Nothing.
Bloodstains marred the floor vividly, but the zombie and victim were gone.
"How...?"
Suddenly, something dropped in front of him.
Blood.
Jermaine instinctively looked up, sword raised.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
The zombie leaped down, teeth bared—right onto his blade.
"Kreeegh!"
Impaled, it thrashed before going limp.
Jermaine flung the sword and zombie away, collapsing backward and gasping for breath.
"D-damn it. What the hell."
He ran a hand through his hair, calming his pounding heart.
"Out of nowhere..."
But it wasn't over.
Staggering figures appeared at the far end of the corridor.
Hard to make out, but their movements screamed unnatural.
"Hey, hey. Over here."
Jermaine backed away and glanced behind.
The assistant stood frozen, pale as a sheet, deep in panic.
Jermaine muttered a curse and yanked the sword from the zombie's mouth.
"Snap out of it!"
"Wh-what the hell, wh-what the..."
"Hey!"
Jermaine slapped him sharply.
The assistant stared blankly.
"If you wanna live, follow me."
"Y-yes..."
"Stay sharp. Got it?"
"Y-yes."
"Trust me."
Jermaine said it, but inwardly he tsked.
He, who'd trailed after knights in the Allied Forces, now leading like some master swordsman? Absurd.
But someone had to.
Jermaine fled the temple with the assistant, slashing any zombies that appeared.
Their physical abilities matched an average person's—no more.
"Priest!"
Outside, a Temple Knight rushed toward him.
"You're safe!"
"Oh, uh, what was your name...?"
"Charlotte."
"Right, Lady Charlotte. What the hell happened?"
"No idea."
She scanned the surroundings.
"Came to relieve the shift, no one showed, so I checked—and this."
"Everywhere else?"
"Chaos."
"No way..."
"We need to get out. Follow me."
"Where to?"
"Lord's castle first, right?"
"Yeah. Good call."
Rian Flandre, lord of Franchese, was an exceptional knight and governor, commanding a formidable order.
"Let's go."
Jermaine followed Charlotte with the assistant.
Occasional survivors reached out for help, only to be devoured or turned by zombies.
It was hell.
"How could this..."
"God help us."
Corpses with exposed bones and guts shambled toward them from all sides.
A scene straight out of a novel.
Fighting orcs on the plains had been gruesome too, but this felt even less real.
"Th-this is just here, right?"
"Hope so."
Charlotte shook her head.
"Doesn't look like it."
"Why?"
"Army would've cleaned it up by now. No word means it's everywhere."
"Impossible..."
"There!"
Charlotte shouted.
"Horses!"
In the inn's stable, terrified horses milled about. The sturdy bolt had kept zombies out.
Charlotte smashed the lock with her sword, led out three, and released the rest.
"Go!"
The freed horses bolted every which way, drawing pursuing zombies in a frenzy.
The area cleared.
"Now let's move."
"Yes."
Mounted, Jermaine and the assistant trailed Charlotte.
Other streets looked no different.
Suddenly, a massive building loomed.
Franchese University.
"Wait!"
Jermaine yelled without thinking.
Charlotte glanced back.
"What?"
"Hold up! Just wanna check that real quick!"
Her eyes fell on the university.
"Why?"
"Stop first! No time to argue!"
Jermaine reined in and stopped at the main gate.
Charlotte fumed from her saddle.
"We don't have time—why here?"
"It's here."
"What?"
"Something's here."
Jermaine stared blankly at the grounds.
As a holy mage, he sensed malevolent energy lurking within.
"Something's happening inside."
"Looks fine to me."
"I can feel it."
Charlotte dismounted.
Zombies shuffled occasionally inside, but nothing else stood out.
"Fine. We'll report to the lord."
Then.
Someone emerged from the grounds.
"H-hey. Over here."
He crept forward, voice hushed to avoid agitating zombies.
"Help."
A shaggy-haired man. He glanced around warily, hurried up, and stopped before them, panting.
"S-safe. You're knights."
"Who are you?"
"Researcher here. Pulled an all-nighter yesterday, fell asleep. Woke up to this mess."
Unfortunately, his movement drew eyes.
Zombies wandering the grounds lurched toward them.
"Damn."
Not fast, but the limping, crawling corpses pressed in oppressively.
"Let's move."
As Jermaine turned.
The assistant screamed.
"Aaaah!"
A zombie had snuck up and sunk teeth into his calf.
He kicked wildly with his other foot, then fell.
The horse reared in fright.
"Shit!"
Charlotte swore and swung. The zombie's head separated from its body.
It rolled away.
"You okay?"
"Y-yes..."
The assistant rubbed the wound frantically.
"I-it'll be fine, right? Getting bit's okay, right?"
No one answered.
Legends of the undead always followed the same rule.
Bitten, you became one of them.
Easy to guess how the streets filled.
The assistant pleaded.
"Priest, heal me. Holy magic'll fix this. Right now, please..."
Jermaine nodded and cast.
But the wound didn't heal. It worsened, as if gnawed from within by invisible teeth, bleeding profusely.
"Aaaah, aaaah..."
"F-for now."
Jermaine said.
"Get on a horse and..."
Before he finished, Charlotte swung.
The assistant's head flew; he crumpled atop the zombie corpse.
"No..."
"Too late."
Charlotte sheathed her sword coldly.
"Bitten by zombies turns you. Saw it on the way."
Jermaine didn't argue.
The Allied Forces had taught him you couldn't save everyone.
"Understood."
His quick acceptance lit Charlotte's eyes.
She spotted the veterans' badge on his robes and nodded.
"Allied Forces vet."
"Yes."
"Good."
Charlotte mounted.
"Let's go. To the lord's castle."