Chapter 298: The City of Plague
The warehouse was dimly lit by only a fire pit. Rows of patient corpses lay on their beds, their heads lifted, faces illuminated by the flickering flames, their eye sockets shrouded in deep shadows. When they spoke, black blood dripped from their mouths, falling onto the ground mixed with tainted blood and mud.
As a saintess rigorously trained by the chapel, Jenna felt a pang of emotion, but her first reaction was to raise her hand and unleash several spheres of light in response. The light spheres landed on the nearest patient corpse, exploding silently. The clothes and hair of the patient immediately caught fire, momentarily illuminating the warehouse.
The corpses did not rage; all thirty-two of them, including the burning patient, opened their mouths to speak once more:
“Poor child, look how scared you are. I forgive your ignorance; you are a good person.”
“If you come to terms with it, strike the bell seven times.”
Their voices were so kind and approachable, affecting Jenna’s mind. Just hearing the corpses’ voices caused some knowledge to unconsciously surface in Jenna’s mind, and she couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted.
During that moment of distraction, the thirty-two corpses lay back down as if nothing had happened. If not for a few still burning, Jenna might have thought it was an illusion.
Jenna hurriedly extinguished the flames. The smell of charred flesh was foul, but she was almost used to it.
The corpse that had been burning stared at Jenna with open eyes. He was a young local man, part of the provincial army stationed outside. Upon hearing of the plague outbreak in his hometown, he had volunteered to come and actively assisted Jenna, ultimately succumbing to the disease.
Jenna was unable to save his life.
His lifeless visage seemed to blame Jenna, blaming her for being powerless, wasting everyone’s trust and support.
If only she had accepted the invitation from the unknown power.
Jenna averted her gaze. She was very tired. She removed her deerskin gloves, which were coated in holy oil, and checked her hands. They remained unchanged, just like before. She did another self-examination and found that both her body and mind were untainted.
This indicated that the unknown proposer held no malice towards her.
At that moment, a cart pulled up outside the warehouse, drawn by a few sickly horses carrying a load of patients.
A greatsword warrior approached, wearing a mask and slanted golden shoulder straps—a symbol of honor, reflecting his valiant achievements at the Obsidian Pass.
He stood before Jenna, saluted, and said, “Good evening, Saintess!”
Jenna smiled upon seeing him. She rather liked this greatsword warrior because he dared to come within two meters of her, while an imperial soldier behind him remained five or six meters away, closer to the cart of sick patients.
Ever since four of Jenna’s assistants had died, the others had grown increasingly fearful of the busty saintess, especially after her emotional breakdowns.
But this greatsword warrior was different. Jenna had heard of his heroic feats. He once lured an orc’s giant spider into molten magma, which was why she knew his name: Skari, the Sword Saint Henry.
“Good evening, Sword Saint Skari. You go by Henry, right?”
“A nickname, but I am honored that you remember my name, Saintess.” Skari’s expression turned into a forced smile. “These critically ill patients urgently need your help.”
Jenna struggled to suppress her guilt. “I can, but the corpses need to be dealt with first.”
“Understood.” Skari turned and called out, “Hey, get the corpse collectors over here!”
Before long, several bald, cleanly washed corpse collectors were ushered in, praying quietly to Sigma as they walked.
No matter how brave soldiers were, none wished to touch the dead bodies of the diseased, except for corpse collectors. They too were forced into the role, gathered from who knows where.
Under Jenna’s requirements, each corpse collector had to wash themselves clean with fresh water before handling the corpses, and the number of corpse collectors was barely sufficient.
Once the corpses were taken away, the critically ill patients needed to be moved to beds where countless others had died.
Jenna alone couldn’t do this. Skari asked, “Where’s your assistant?”
Jenna sighed. “He died of the disease.”
“Corpse collectors!” Skari shouted, “Quickly, let’s carry the patients to the beds together!”
The patients, although gravely ill, stubbornly refused. They would rather be treated by Jenna than be touched by the corpse collectors.
Skari, feeling nervous, said, “Saintess, please let me temporarily be your assistant.”
Jenna gratefully glanced at him and said, “Thank you.”
Each patient wore a collar with a bell tied to it. When the bell rang, it served as a warning for those around to keep their distance from the patient.
They were cast aside by others. Besides fearing contagion, the public regarded these patients as somewhat impious, believing that they had brought this punishment upon themselves.
Jenna was one of the few who sympathized with them and was willing to treat them.
After Jenna and Skari placed ten critically ill patients onto beds covered with straw, the latter hurriedly ran out of the warehouse. Jenna called out to him, handing him a bottle of holy water, saying, “Clean your hands.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Skari bid farewell, and the warehouse door closed behind him. He let out a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of his armor lighten significantly.
Though Saintess Jenna was beautiful, in an environment filled with dead bodies, she was the only one who appeared healthy and robust. This was somewhat terrifying, especially since everyone else had at least some signs of illness.
She had also walked among heaps of deceased bodies, holding the hands of dying patients for their final prayers, yet ultimately achieved nothing. Among those she had treated, no more than ten had survived.
This was enough to instill fear.
They boarded the cart, “Let’s go.”
“Saint, you are really impressive,” said the nearby imperial soldier, giving Skari a thumbs-up. “You dare to lift the patients with her.”
There were rumors in the camp that those who got too close to the Saintess died quickly, especially assistants.
The last one who angrily declared that Saintess Jenna was a good person, and that everyone was slandering her, ended up volunteering to be her assistant.
Then he died.
“What do you know?” Skari said. “Aren’t we about to go to war? You need to please the spellcasters; that’s something the general personally taught me. Think about it: you are fighting a horde of monsters, holding your ground while the spellcasters summon fire and light to incinerate the enemy; if a spell goes slightly astray and hits you, you might die. Mistakes like that happen often, and no one will say a word.”
“Is that so?”
Skari, who had only been enlisted for a year, patted the soldier’s shoulder, speaking earnestly, “Learn well. This is what experience has taught me.”
The imperial soldier nodded repeatedly, showing great respect for this combat hero. Rumors circulated that his victories were merely due to luck, which only made everyone eager to associate with him—who wouldn’t want to be around someone lucky?
Skari nodded with satisfaction, saying, “You still have much to learn…”
“Ahhhh!!!”
Suddenly, a sharp scream echoed from the warehouse behind them.
Both men fell silent, and Skari whipped the horse’s rear end, urging it to distance itself from the terrifying warehouse.
The cart rumbled forward under the night sky filled with the smoke of corpses, passing lightless street lamps unattended, turning a corner.
In the direction of the quarantine camp, flames shot into the sky. A hot gust of wind carried the reek of dead bodies, along with sounds of slaughter and the bells ringing from the patients’ collars.
Skari pulled the reins, gazing at the towering flames. The young imperial soldier beside him drew his short sword, visibly panicking.
“Don’t worry; it’s nothing too serious,” Skari sighed. “It’s surely just patients escaping from the quarantine camp.”
“Where are they escaping to?”
“Looking for the legendary plague doctor,” Skari replied. “They say he can cure the Black Death.”
“Is it him? Really?” the imperial soldier said. “When I was on patrol earlier, I saw a bell-wearing person, glowing with health, wave to me and shout that he had been cured of the disease by the plague doctor, but the centurion ordered me to shoot him with a crossbow.”
“Could be.”
“Then why not summon the plague doctor?” The imperial soldier’s voice grew agitated. “I saw that guy with my own eyes; he looked perfectly healthy!”
“Who knows?” Skari said. “Anyway, the witch hunters claim he’s a heretic; you’d better listen. This world is vast and full of wonders.”
“But I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I’ve seen massive mountains and walking orc statues too, called Gargantua,” Skari commented. “Don’t believe it; instead of talking loudly, you’d do better to pray to Sigma more.”
“Is it useful?”
“I’ve witnessed Sigma manifest,” Skari replied. “Otherwise, I’d have been tossed into a pot by the greenskins long ago. Also, keep your voice down; if someone reports you, you might end up on the pyre.”
“Sigma above, Sigma above, please bless me.”
From the shadows came the rustling of mice, and in the darkness, there seemed to be watchful eyes. Several figures quickly vanished into the shadows.
Skari blinked, unsure if he was seeing things correctly. He stood alert, unfastening his sword belt and drawing the greatsword from his back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just feel like someone is watching us,” Skari said. “No matter what, we should get our weapons ready first.”
From the darkness ahead, a slender figure wrapped in a black hooded robe emerged.
Skari shouted, “Who goes there! If you don’t respond, I’ll treat you as a traitor and execute you!”
The mysterious figure stepped into the light of the cart, lowering her hood to reveal sleek, dark hair and a terrifying crow mask covering her face. Although her features were hidden, her demeanor, her fair wrists, and the graceful, white neck visible beneath her hair all exuded an irresistible charm.
Unconsciously, Skari found his sword drooping, his tone softening as he asked, “Who are you?”
“I remember you. Didn’t you climb over my wall? Your companion tried to steal my undergarments and was pinned to the ground by my servant?”
Skari felt a surge of embarrassment.
“Do you know where Saintess Jenna is?” she asked. “I’m her close friend, come to find her.”
The imperial soldier quickly spoke up, pointing, “Over there.”
“Alright.” Before leaving, she took out a vial of green potion and tossed it to Skari, saying, “This medicine is very good for the body.”
Saying this, she vanished into the darkness.
