It was already deep into the night, and the crowds that had once bustled through the streets were growing sparse. The sound of White Robes patrolling echoed in the distance, occasionally punctuated by sharp shouts as they interrogated passersby.
Earlier, only a fine drizzle had been drifting through the streets outside, but now the sky seemed to have picked its moment, unleashing a rare winter downpour.
This was supposed to be the capital’s most pleasant season, yet the past few days had been as stifling and restless as the sweltering transition between spring and summer.
All the tavern’s patrons had already left. Claudia and her group, who had deliberately chosen a corner seat to avoid attention, now stood out all the more conspicuously—especially with a giant like Hans standing beside them.
Still, no one else seemed to notice them, aside from the bartender wiping glasses behind the counter and stealing occasional glances their way.
Claudia would have a proper talk with that bartender later, making sure he didn’t run his mouth in front of strangers. She had always been a meticulous woman.
“Death’s Decree… the plague from three hundred years ago? But…”
Claudia spoke carefully. Even the most basic question required careful wording in front of an Inquisitor of the Holy See.
Werner didn’t interrupt her. Instead, he gestured with his eyes for her to continue.
With that silent permission, Claudia finished her thought: “As far as I know, wasn’t the Lord of Flies that brought the plague already vanquished by the holy sword? How could an ancient plague that was completely eradicated have anything to do with the capital today?”
“Completely eradicated.” Werner savored the word, as though tasting some fine vintage. “That is precisely the question historians have debated for three hundred years. What we destroyed—was it the source of the calamity, or merely one of its vessels?”
Werner leaned slightly forward, the silver cross on his chest catching the candlelight with a cold gleam. The invisible pressure made Claudia grip the back of her chair instinctively.
“Lady Claudia,” his voice dropped a few notes, “the outbreak appearing in the capital, based on its pathological symptoms, bears a striking resemblance to the records of Death’s Decree. That does not seem like a coincidence.”
His argument echoed Perl’s almost exactly, but it didn’t convince Claudia.
Claudia steadied herself: “I’m not a doctor, but I have basic common sense. The medical standards and government execution capabilities of three hundred years ago can’t even begin to compare with today. Natural calamities that were unstoppable in the past might simply be a traceable epidemic in the present. I trust scientific judgment over a three-hundred-year-old demon king legend.”
“Well said,” Werner nodded approvingly, but then his tone shifted. “However, your entire conclusion rests on one premise—that it must be natural.”
That sentence was like a bucket of ice water, instantly extinguishing the warm hearth of the tavern.
Claudia felt her throat tighten. She had to swallow hard before finding her voice: “Are you saying… this plague is man-made?”
“Speaking with intelligent people saves so much effort.” Werner tapped the table with his knuckles, the crisp sound cutting sharply through the silence.
“Three hundred years ago, the Baal Family, having lost the bloodline war, fled to Sardinia and summoned the Lord of Flies with necromancy. That’s how the unprecedented plague erupted.”
He paused, his piercing gaze locking onto Claudia, and spoke each word deliberately: “We have reason to suspect that someone in the capital is now repeating the Baal Family’s actions.”
Claudia felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She gripped the edge of the table tightly just to keep herself steady.
“Evidence?” Her voice was already beginning to tremble.
Werner extended his hand and glanced at his watch: “The evidence is this brother you just let that Doctor Perl examine. Although you suppressed the surface symptoms like fever with healing magic at the first opportunity, the virus is still sitting comfortably inside his body. And it looks like the time is about up.”
The moment he finished speaking, the attendant who had been standing guard suddenly slid off his chair onto the floor, twisting his body into a distorted, grotesque contortion in agony.
His face gradually flushed red, and he let out a series of broken, low gurgles—as though an invisible hand were squeezing his throat, and he was completely powerless against it.
Claudia, no longer concerned with Werner’s deeply unsettling gaze, quickly signaled to another subordinate who was frozen in shock to help stabilize the situation, keeping the poor man from thrashing into nearby tables and chairs.
Then, just as Perl had done earlier, she reached out and yanked open his tie, hoping to relieve the invisible pressure on his neck. She tore open his shirt even more roughly than Perl had, and buttons went flying, clattering and bouncing across the wooden floor.
“What the hell is this…”
The sight before her made Claudia’s deft movements freeze mid-action. The dark spots that had faded almost to nothing had all reappeared at once, and even more aggressively than before, they were devouring the remaining patches of clean skin.
The attendant’s gurgling grew heavier, and his thyroid, which had already subsided, swelled like a balloon being inflated—making one worry it might pop like a balloon and splash its accumulated unknown fluids all across the tavern.
“Keep breathing!”
Claudia shook her head to snap herself back to focus. She reached into the lining of her suit and pulled out a sheathed short knife, wedging it between the attendant’s clenched teeth to keep his airway open.
When her fingers brushed against those lumpy, wart-like growths, goosebumps erupted across her arms, and the stench pouring out made her instinctively hold her breath.
This wasn’t so much a disease as it was some kind of terrible poison.
Claudia pressed her other hand against the swollen thyroid on the attendant’s neck. Glowing emerald particles began to gather in the air around her, eventually coalescing into a soft green light in her palm that dimmed even the tavern’s firelight.
“God-given light magic is truly a wonderful thing.” Werner’s tone carried a hint of mockery. “Unfortunately, that alone is far from enough.”
Claudia muttered incantations under her breath, pouring all her effort into maintaining the healing magic. But she could clearly feel that no matter how she channeled elements with her mental energy to drive the spell, the attendant’s life force was draining away relentlessly.
It felt like trying to plug a cracked wooden barrel full of water with a single rag. More and more gaps appeared between the planks, and she could only futilely shift that little rag around to catch the leaks, until helplessness slowly consumed her spirit.
“It’s over.”
Werner had crouched down beside Claudia without her noticing. He reached out and moved her hand away from the attendant’s now-still body. His fingers were as cold as iron.
“Everything you said… is it true…?” Claudia’s pale face was covered in sweat, her lips trembling slightly. It was partly the exhaustion of overusing her magical power.
The last shreds of doubt gradually dissolved from Claudia’s mind. Now she only knew that something terrible was about to happen, and she was standing right at the center of it all.
There was some fear mixed in, but not much. Claudia knew perfectly well that fear wouldn’t do anything to change the situation. What she needed most right now was to stay calm.
Werner patted his pant legs and stood up, his black robe draping down behind him: “This plague is already unfolding silently, but only a very few know it’s man-made. Hans and I have been sent by the Holy See to hunt down the source of the plague—the practitioners of necromancy. We suspect that this outbreak is closely connected to that Doctor Perl.”
“Necromancy? I know every mage currently active in the capital, and none of them are the kind you’re describing.”
Claudia had mostly recovered by now. She rose slowly, but not before pulling the short knife from her companion’s jaw and closing his wide-open eyes.
She took a deep breath, trying to make her voice sound firm: “And as far as I can tell, I don’t see a reason why I should assist you. I’m a registered mage with the Association holding legitimate casting credentials. I’m just providing some magical technical consultation. That’s hardly grounds for being burned at the stake.”
After saying that, Claudia’s back was soaked through with cold sweat. She knew she was taking a risk, but she had to probe the other man’s limits.
“How dare you.” Hans suddenly spoke, his voice low as thunder. “You dare to haggle in front of an Inquisitor of the Holy See?”
Werner raised a hand to stop his companion, then turned to Claudia, still wearing that cold smile: “It’s true that practitioners of necromancy are extremely rare… but just the news of an impending plague alone should be enough for you to make a fortune, shouldn’t it? Furthermore, we suspect that Doctor Perl is very likely a heretic.”
Werner’s last sentence made Claudia’s heart leap.
Werner continued in that same genial yet spine-chilling tone: “Then I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. The Cardinal’s intelligence network spans the entire Southern Continent. Your relationship with Doctor Perl, your cooperation with Bremer at the black market—all of that is already crystal clear to us.”
“…Where did you learn all this?” Claudia’s voice was thick with poorly concealed unease.
Werner said slowly: “You’ve been procuring large quantities of corpses for that hospital—previously supplied to old Bremer, and now to Perl. And as far as I understand, there was even a living person once. I recall the name… Troy? Yes, yes, that’s it. Although on the surface, her parents voluntarily sold her to Perl, in reality, old Bremer secretly manipulated things behind the scenes to force them to accept a price Perl could afford, didn’t he?”
Claudia’s face turned even paler. These were old affairs that should have been long forgotten, yet now the Inquisitor of the Holy See had dug them all up with perfect clarity.
Werner continued, every word landing like a nail into Claudia’s heart: “I have no interest in reporting you. After all, that father and daughter are truly the pillars of medical technology in the capital. But the problem is, we suspect Perl isn’t actually old Bremer’s adopted daughter at all. She might be… another kind of existence connected to necromancy.”
Werner didn’t finish the sentence, but it plunged the entire tavern into dead silence.
Claudia felt her hands trembling uncontrollably. She knew all too well what it meant to be connected to necromancy.
And if she were to be associated with something that violated the natural order of human ethics…
“I’m willing to provide every assistance.” She forced the words out through gritted teeth.
Werner nodded in satisfaction: “Very good. Everything I need you to do is written on this note.”
He slapped the table heavily, then turned and walked toward the tavern’s exit, his black robe billowing behind him: “We don’t have much time left. The Holy See’s will cannot be delayed.”
Hans followed behind him. The two black-robed figures paused at the doorway.
Werner looked back, the silver cross on his chest gleaming with a cold luster in the dimness: “Oh, and one more thing. If you ever dare harbor any thought of betraying us… there’s always a stake prepared for heretics.”
With that, the two vanished into the curtain of rain.
“Troy?”
The moment Perl stepped into her home, she sensed something was wrong. She shouted into the pitch-dark, empty room, but the only response was the patter of rain against the window.
And a few faint squeaking noises.
Perl spun around, slammed the door shut, and stepped back out into the rain.