Not far from Graywhite Territory, a whole squad of Demon Soldiers was indulging in food and drink.
There was no helping it; the human lord was even more enthusiastic than initially anticipated, sending not only exquisite provisions but also more than could possibly be consumed.
Burken, as the leader of this squad, was currently commanding a few human slaves to set up camp while enjoying roasted meat sprinkled with spices.
Recalling the sight of those human nobles bending over backward, Burken felt an immense sense of satisfaction.
Although the higher-ups had always emphasized that the so-called human inferiority was a tactical necessity, many in the Demon Clan genuinely believed in this assertion.
Burken had started off with a skeptical attitude, but now he had become a staunch disciple of the human inferiority theory.
It was truly a pity for such a prosperous land to be ruled by humans; indeed, it should be governed by a more powerful Demon Clan instead.
“Boss, what about that scout squad from before? Shouldn’t we worry about them?”
One soldier, with a full belly, lazily asked Burken.
Burken dismissed him scornfully, saying, “What does it matter if those humans take a look? Our twenty-person squad is equivalent to twenty professionals to humans, and those scouts probably just came to see what we like to eat, so their lord can prepare it.”
“Hahahaha, the boss is right! I like foie gras; let’s have that scout squad come back later, and I’ll tell them to have their lord prepare it.”
“Champagne would be nice; beef would be even better.”
As the soldiers kept joking, this squad of Demon Soldiers seemed to be on a picnic, lounging on the ground and discussing what to eat next.
In contrast, there was an eerie silence among the plague-stricken group.
Flora tore off a corner of her clothes to wrap the pus-filled wound of a feverish refugee.
To prevent the spread of disease and curses, Flora dared not allow anyone to fetch water to clean the wounds, as everyone present was infected with severe plague and curses. If these diseases and curses were spread, all that Flora had worked for would turn to dust.
The only fortunate aspect was that, due to the hospitality they received along the way, the Demon Soldiers did not force the refugees to actively spread the plague. Additionally, with Flora leading the way, she was able to keep advancing toward the sparsely populated areas in the west, so, so far, no large-scale plague had emerged.
However, Flora sensed that she had reached her limit. The Demon Soldiers had already noticed something was off but were too lazy to bring it up. Soon, these Demon Soldiers would likely execute orders to spread the plague and curses throughout the nearby territories.
After all, if they didn’t spread these diseases and curses soon, the refugees acting as carriers would likely not be able to hold on any longer.
As Flora raised her hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead, she realized that the sore had burst open, and she had to use her already dirty nun’s robe to wipe it again.
“Lady Saintess, you should take a break.”
One of the sisters, unable to bear it any longer, tried to persuade Flora to rest.
But Flora did not stop. Instead, she concentrated on channeling barely perceptible holy light in her hands, hoping to dispel some curses.
“I’m no longer a saint…”
Flora wanted to give up. After all, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t heal these refugees and sisters. Helping the refugees prolong their lives was akin to colluding in their suffering. For these afflicted individuals, death might be the best form of salvation; living was merely being carriers of plague and curses.
In recent days, Flora had thought a lot, but ultimately, all her thoughts came down to one question: does the Goddess really exist? Or is the Goddess no longer alive? Why do those who pray devoutly at the Cathedral of the Blessed Mother of Relief not receive any response?
As a quasi-saintess, Flora knew more. The church had not proclaimed a divine revelation in a long time, and the Goddess’ responses to her followers had dwindled to almost nothing.
Flora’s thoughts were more radical than Isha’s. Either the Goddess was dead, or the Goddess had abandoned the current church.
But none of that mattered now; such thoughts would die alongside Flora’s heavy frame.
The sisters gathered together, seemingly waiting for the final judgment. Some even secretly prepared flint, intending to burn everything in one go when the time came to end their suffering and prevent the spread of the plague.
In fact, Flora had noticed that many eyes had been watching the sisters and refugees since the very beginning; it seemed they were scouts from the nearby lord. But Flora no longer had any hope. She had once fantasized that the northern border’s lord had some backbone and would send troops to eliminate these twenty Demon Soldiers, but the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment.
All the way, the lords had been increasingly humble toward the Demon Clan, practically wearing their subservience on their faces.
Moreover, even if a lord truly did manage to eliminate these demons, it would not be enough to cure the numerous plagues and curses. Just as Flora had previously speculated, even if all the holy water in the church’s stockpile were brought out, it would likely still be insufficient.
Unless the Goddess manifested once again.
Meanwhile, within Graywhite Territory.
The scouts from earlier, with bloodshot eyes, reported on the situation of the Demon Soldiers and the miserable condition of the refugees and sisters at the Cathedral of the Blessed Mother of Relief.
Isha trembled all over, unable to say a word.
Because the situation of the Demon Clan did not threaten absolute annihilation, Carolyn, who was quickly climbing the ranks, was also sitting beside Lila, listening to the scouts’ report.
Carolyn completely forgot that she had once shouted anti-war slogans in the royal capital and knelt down, saying, “Lord, I am an honor student from the Royal Academy and a third-tier professional. I request to lead soldiers into battle! I bet my family name that I will save these people.”
The knights under Lena also rushed to volunteer for the battle. As knights of the Lars Family, they didn’t care at all about the so-called Surde Treaty. After all, Duke Lars, as the lord of the northern border, had not even signed the treaty; these agreements were mere scraps of paper to them.
In truth, at the moment they received the news, Lind had already prepared for battle. With Isha present, even if Lind chose not to fight, Isha would probably gather a group of her followers to charge in. If worse came to worst, they could call down a meteor.
Actually, everyone present lacked confidence. For Lind, fighting was a matter of sentiment; not fighting was his duty.
Lind had found many reasons for this battle, such as needing to keep the Child of Destiny, Isha, safe, ensuring Graywhite Territory didn’t suffer from the plague, testing whether the Demon Clan was as fearsome as rumored, and flexing some muscle to warn those eyeing the magic stone mine in Graywhite Territory.
Yet in the end, Lind realized he didn’t need to think so much. Listening to the scout’s report, he couldn’t keep his rationality intact.
When he heard the scouts describe the refugees’ miserable conditions, some remnants of a certain instinct from his previous life seemed to awaken—a deep-seated hatred for invaders.
Lind thought for a moment; perhaps, by the time he heard Jefferson describe the situation, he already had an answer in his heart about whether to save the refugees.
“Fight! Lauri, you take the main offensive, bring the most powerful grenades. All losses are inconsequential; we seek merit.”
“Yes!”
Lauri immediately ignited with bloodlust and saluted the Kingdom military-style. Originally, Lauri was not a soldier; he was just a passionate youth crushed by time and accumulated despair. However, at this moment, Lauri seemed to feel the past self slowly awakening.
“Reina, you take all the Lars cavalry to press forward. Not a single demon is to escape!”
“Okay, brother! If even one demon escapes, I’ll give my head in.”
Reina and her knights were eager to try, completely missing Lind’s quiet addition: “That might not be necessary.”
“Isha, you and Carolyn take some soldiers to protect those sisters and refugees. Don’t let them be taken away by demons, and do not push yourselves too hard; just ensure their safety.”
“I understand.”
Isha appeared very calm, but her bloodshot eyes were the most crazed among everyone.
“Lila, clear out an area to prepare for our reinforcements.”
“As you wish.”
Lila continued to elegantly lift her skirt.
“Lysha, restart the production line for that potion. From the current situation, the amount we estimated earlier was still conservative. If necessary, I and Lila will assist you.”
“I understand.”
Lysha stood up as well; this was the first time she felt her frail body boiling with energy.
As orders were delivered, Graywhite Territory moved like a finely tuned machine made of over a thousand people, emitting a deep and fierce roar.
