“At first, we ventured there for the blood of the Green Lizard.
Burdurka Town harbored similar legends.
The price offered by the Baron was simply irresistible.
The town nestled beside a substantial oasis, and even the blood of a juvenile lizard held considerable value for our Blood Rose research.”
Father Aylmer, standing opposite the bed, delivered his statement without a flicker of emotion.
His eyes were fixed on the blood cocoon, his hand gently caressing its agitated surface, where blood continually coalesced.
He appeared to be treating it with the reverence one would bestow upon a cherished treasure.
“The Baron had promised that if we could retrieve the blood of an adult Green Lizard, he would share all his research findings,”
“In Florence City, his authority on the subject was undeniable; even His Majesty himself had bestowed lavish praise upon him…””
“What in the blazes are you talking about?!”
“Do you even comprehend our current predicament, Aylmer?!”
Dr. Callan glared intently at the priest.
What was he planning?
Could he, in fact, be the mastermind behind all this?
Asriel’s strength gradually waned, and the whispers once again echoed within his mind.
In stark contrast to her own desperate struggle to suppress the curse and overwhelming drowsiness, the priest’s face showed no trace of pain.
Indeed, Dr. Callan could sense a formidable power surging within him, a power that resonated deeply with the blood cocoon!
“During our search for the lizard, we uncovered an anomaly within the town,”
“Its inhabitants harbored no fear of the mists of winter or summer, nor did they require dreams; even in the depths of the Long Night, the town remained under the control of its residents.”
“Intrigued, we investigated further, poring over records until we pinpointed the issue: the mists and the Long Night did not bring about the plague.”
“This phenomenon stretched back several years.”
Having observed enough, the priest effortlessly plunged both hands through the blood cocoon’s surface, his fingers slowly searching within.
“As we delved deeper into the town, we eventually located an adult Green Lizard,”
“Fortuitously, it had only recently matured, and with our sufficient personnel, specialized equipment, and potent elixirs, we incurred only a minor cost to seize the opportunity to draw it into a dream.”
“It was a simple task, presenting no challenge for me—had it merely been an ordinary evil creature.”
“What precisely are you trying to say?!”
The whispers within Dr. Callan’s mind intensified, rendering her increasingly agitated.
A formidable power was now contending with her for control over her own blood.
She had scarcely any mental energy left to process the man’s words.
The moment her focus wavered, the cursed blood within her would undoubtedly surge forth.
Ignoring the furious shouts, the priest’s hands encountered something.
He paused, his hands holding a fixed distance, and slowly raised his head, revealing eyes that were almost entirely vacant.
“By the time I comprehended why the town remained free of plague, it was already too late,”
“In the dream, I witnessed the Flower Baron, who had perished two years prior, in the jaws of that very lizard!”
“I saw that lizard devour all the plague within the town!”
“This is a trap!”
His voice, raised and trembling, carried a desperate urgency.
“Over countless years, by harnessing the power of the plague, it has evolved into a mythical creature, acquiring its own name!”
“Thrale—Erg—Gunoorse—”
As the name was uttered, the entire room began to tremble violently.
The blood on the cocoon thrashed with furious agitation, revealing countless faces desperately vying to break free from their confinement.
“Ah… it hurts so much…”
As the last vestige of brilliance vanished, Dr. Callan clutched her ears in agony.
Her body swayed precariously, then collapsed into a half-kneel, excruciating pain wracking her entire being.
Whoosh—
Through her blurry vision, she witnessed the priest tear an unformed, grotesque heart from the blood cocoon.
He opened his mouth wide and swallowed the entire organ whole.
His gaze softened, becoming almost benevolent, imbued with a hint of helplessness and an unwavering resolve.
Strange symbols erupted across his skin, his head burst open, his flesh and limbs began to melt, and boiling blood gushed forth.
His abdomen swelled, growing larger and larger.
It continued to expand relentlessly.
Until it finally burst through the confines of the entire room.
“I expended every ounce of my strength to drag its consciousness into the boundless dream, to force it into slumber—that was all I could do at the time…””
Before her consciousness completely dissipated, Dr. Callan heard Father Aylmer’s final words.
****
On the second floor, the two individuals, having exhausted every fruitless method, leaned against the open space of the corridor.
They tried their best to avert their gaze from the symbols spreading across the surroundings.
“Are you not concerned about Dr. Callan?”
Valo-Ramsey inquired of Dr. Schmidt, simultaneously loading black bullets into a silver pistol.
“Never underestimate a Chief,”
“Even if she were to be overpowered, she would undoubtedly find a way to escape; our presence upstairs would only prove to be a hindrance.”
Dr. Schmidt, seated opposite him, shot him an irritated glance, her eyes fixed on the gun in her hand.
“Your weapon?”
She was aware that some high-ranking Epidemic Prevention Bureau agents possessed their own plague weapons.
These were crafted from special artifacts infected by the plague and categorized in secret archives, each carrying varying costs but delivering astonishing effects.
Such weapons were generally not deployed lightly.
Yet, both the pistol and its bullets before her emanated an intensely perilous aura.
“If this truly is a mythical creature of legend, then perhaps the Abbot of Solis Abbey, His Holiness the Pope, and the Grandmaster of the Knights would need to intervene.”
Exhaling a puff of smoke, Valo-Ramsey changed the subject.
No sooner had he finished loading six bullets than an explosion ripped through the ceiling above, causing the entire building to shudder violently.
Bang—
Before their astonished eyes, a colossal ‘meatball’ burst through the roof.
Blinding sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the shattered walls, dispelling the oppressive gloom.
Crash—
Wood and various pieces of furniture rained down as the floorboards collapsed.
With swift movements, Valo-Ramsey helped the injured agent to their feet, retreating to evade a piano crashing down from above.
He then raised his hand and fired a shot at the meatball.
The bullet failed to penetrate, lodging itself in the surface.
Gurgle… gurgle…
With a sickening squirm, the bullet was expelled.
Frowning deeply, Valo-Ramsey tucked the pistol away, deciding against further attacks.
“Get out of there, unless you fancy being flattened into a pancake!”
Dr. Schmidt yelled, clinging to the rapidly fracturing stair banister.
Bang—
With a swift backhand, he drew an ordinary pistol and shattered a falling vase just above Dr. Schmidt’s head.
Valo-Ramsey then hoisted the injured agent onto his back and sprinted forward.
“Attend to your own safety before concerning yourself with others, madam.”
“It would be quite presumptuous to assume I couldn’t even dodge a mere vase.”
As she spoke, Dr. Schmidt leaped, landing deftly in the ground-floor hall.
Valo-Ramsey followed closely.
Portions of the walls had crumbled, and the main entrance, unable to withstand the immense pressure, was severely cracked and warped.
A mere adult’s weight would be sufficient to force it open.
The few meters ahead were far from clear, with fallen pillars and chandeliers obstructing their path.
For agile agents and doctors, this posed no significant challenge.
They continued to sprint forward, dodging falling debris from above while leaping over obstacles.
Just as they neared the doorway, Dr. Schmidt’s head swam with a sudden dizziness.
A fleeting image flashed before her eyes: a figure in black robes with golden hair, lying unnoticed in a corner.
“Chief!”
Shaking her head, the vision dissipated, and Dr. Schmidt spun around, frantically searching the ruins.
Her gaze landed on that very corner, where strands of golden hair lay trapped beneath a fallen wardrobe.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she turned and raced back, pushing aside the wardrobe that had been wedged against the wall.
Dr. Callan, remarkably, bore no external injuries.
By this time, those outside had managed to force open the door.
Having entrusted his subordinate to their care, Valo-Ramsey disregarded the shouts from outside and plunged back into the gaping aperture.
The meatball above them descended ever closer, and the main entrance was now completely blocked by fallen debris.
Mere seconds before the entire building was utterly obliterated, the two, carrying the unconscious golden-haired woman, leaped from a shattered window, escaping the area with the aid of the other agents.
Boom—
Dust and smoke billowed forth, and once they cleared, the horrified onlookers discovered that the meatball at the center of the ruins had swollen to the size of a building.
Thump…
Thump…
Something pulsed within, and its surface continually bulged and convulsed as if in a desperate struggle.
This continued for several minutes.
When the struggle proved fruitless, the meatball ceased its movements and slowly began to shrink, its volume diminishing to a mere tenth of its original size.