The fog thickened, growing ever denser.
The specialized tungsten filament flashlights carried by the agents could illuminate a radius of no more than fifteen meters.
Innumerable black rats swarmed, accompanied by three white rats, two of which had already undergone preliminary ‘aggregation’ (TL Note: A process where creatures combine into a larger, more powerful form).
One of these, concealed within the shadows, instantly bit off an agent’s head.
They were cunning, consistently targeting a single individual, then retreating into the swirling mist or lurking in the darkness to seek out another victim once their objective was achieved.
In merely a minute, the death toll swelled to three, with over ten wounded.
The arrival of Ramsey and Lalviye-Komel helped to alleviate the relentless assault.
A young agent found their calf gripped by a rat, which savagely dragged them away from the formation; by the time the other agents reacted, it was already too late.
Only gunshots and agonized screams echoed through the dense fog.
Fortunately, he had not perished.
He would forever be haunted by the image: fangs slick with viscous blood barely two centimeters from his carotid artery.
Yet, the despair and agony he had anticipated never materialized.
Only the sharp crack of a gunshot.
Foul-smelling rat blood, still warm, splattered across his face.
A single bullet had precisely pierced the eyes of two rats, causing their movements to falter.
The agent’s life was, for the moment, spared.
If a single shot failed to kill them outright, their wounds would swiftly regenerate, not to mention the existence of two other equally terrifying creatures.
The crisis remained unresolved.
The rats would not abandon their prey so easily; the remaining two attacked from divergent directions.
Hearing the commotion, the others rushed towards the direction of Ramsey’s gunfire.
However, a dark silhouette, weaving through the fog, moved even faster than they did.
She wielded no firearm; instead, her hands delved into her pockets, emerging with ten rings now adorning her fingers, each connected to a scalpel by a fine thread.
Several intersecting flashlight beams cut through the gloom, revealing silver threads dancing in the air.
Like a harbinger of death, she manipulated the threads to pinpoint her targets, severing the lives of the most menacing white rats.
The rat swarm scattered, the remaining few posing no threat and quickly dispatched.
Hem was utterly astounded.
The very creatures that had driven them into a desperate, costly struggle had not lasted a single round against this doctor.
He also observed that the rats slain by the doctor exploded into scattered gore, eliminating the need for incineration.
“Was this the caliber of a Hospital Department Chief?”
Ramsey’s expression remained largely unchanged, as if it had all unfolded precisely as he anticipated.
“Count the wounded, and move everyone who can still be saved to the clear ground…”
Having swiftly and gravely instructed his subordinates to handle the aftermath, Helm approached Ramsey, his brow deeply furrowed.
“Contacting headquarters has failed once again; the ‘messengers’ we sent out have not returned. Everyone at the underground hospital has vanished, and so have our own people. Including the recent attack, our total losses amount to thirty-one lives.”
“It’s not impossible that they are still alive. What is the situation at the cemetery?”
“We haven’t had a chance to check. I was just about to report back to you when we were ambushed by those beasts.”
Glancing at the purple-haired female agent beside him, Ramsey inquired:
“Where do you believe your mother might have gone, Agent Lalviye-Komel?”
“I don’t know… She refuses to tell me anything. Our recent conversations never last more than ten sentences.” Lalviye-Komel shook her head, a hint of disquiet clouding her features.
“This is troublesome…”
“It seems our strongest combatant here has also encountered some issues.”
Ramsey gazed intently at the dimly lit waiting room behind them.
The doctor had entered it not long ago.
He had keenly observed that the woman in black robes had made errors during the battle.
It wasn’t that she was too slow in killing the rats; rather, she had expended effort needlessly.
The ‘aggregated’ creatures, nearly two meters taller than a human, were sliced into fragments without vital points being targeted—a mere slaughter, as if she were unleashing pent-up frustration.
Unlike the Epidemic Prevention Bureau, established less than twenty years prior, the Hospital Department was one of The Order’s core organizations, far older, yet with significantly fewer members than the Bureau.
The reason was simple: the entry requirements for the Hospital Department were stringent. Those who gained admission were invariably exceptional talents in every regard, with the Chiefs standing as the preeminent among them.
They would not be swayed by trivial matters, possessing a mental fortitude beyond ordinary comprehension.
‘For such a situation to arise…’
As it stood, he considered the nun who had not emerged from her room since the incident began.
To his knowledge, the nun had always been remarkably brave.
“Why is the little nun so quiet?” Helm, too, detected the anomaly.
“We’ll know once we go inside and see.”
“You two go ahead. I’ll stay out here with the others to clean up and use my ability to help the injured sleep, alleviating their pain.”
“Very well.”
The two gentlemen nodded, watching Lalviye-Komel depart to crouch before a black-coated individual with an abdominal injury.
“Is she alright? By all accounts, she shouldn’t have reached a Level Four standard yet.”
Hem wasn’t particularly familiar with Lalviye-Komel; this colleague, suddenly transferred and a rank above him, possessed unique eyes and dream-related abilities, yet in some aspects, she performed even less competently than a regular agent.
‘Leaving aside her background…’
‘There were strange rumors about her. She preferred solitude and rarely participated in planning discussions.’
‘Such was Helm’s impression of her.’
“She actively requested this transfer, leveraging connections her father had during his lifetime.”
Hem strode forward.
“That’s all I know. Don’t overthink it, my colleague; every companion deserves our trust.”
Kicking a stone forcefully from his path, Helm followed.
‘He cursed himself internally.’
‘This was not the time for such thoughts.’
At the doorway, both men detected an indescribable atmosphere.
Inside the room, one person sat silently to the side, while the nun watched the doctor, appearing hesitant to speak.
Upon seeing them enter, the nun quickly rose and asked:
“How are things?”
“Not optimistic, I’m afraid.”
Hem shook his head with a wry smile.
“Those beasts might have been lurking outside from the very beginning, waiting for an opportunity to ensnare us all, or perhaps they had some other objective…”
“I need to confirm something with you again,” Ramsey interjected. “Is Dean Anthea still alive?”
****
The young woman fell silent.
‘That bedroom, and the scene outside its window, so utterly incongruous with the real world.’
‘Dreaming was a peculiar power in this world.’
‘She wasn’t sure if that power was influencing things.’
‘The first time she encountered the Dean after leaving the Solis Abbey, she was found unconscious and asleep in the basement; that could be considered a dream.’
‘But the second time, she received raw materials for a potion from the Dean—how could that be explained?’
“If objects from dreams cannot be brought into reality, and if there are no ghosts in this world, then I can confirm the Dean is still alive.” After a moment of contemplation, her gaze became exceptionally earnest.
“Something brought from a dream into reality… words, but strictly speaking, still within the realm of dreams.”
Ramsey suddenly spoke, as if a realization had struck him.
“Do you possess something that Dean Anthea might have brought from a dream?”
“Yes, it’s in this very room now.”
Ghervil rose and retrieved the briefcase from where it rested against the wall.
“As long as the item is here, it proves that your eyes haven’t been clouded by dreams!” Helm exclaimed, excitedly taking the briefcase and placing it on the table.
“Wait!”
Just as he was about to open the clasp, a voice of protest sounded.
“Please, both of you step aside for a moment.”
Under the lamplight, the young woman’s face was flushed.
Ramsey, having sensed her discomfort beforehand, had already retreated to the doorway.
Scratching his head awkwardly, Helm followed him out.
‘He now recalled where the nun had changed into her habit.’
‘The only luggage she had brought was that glove box.’
Three minutes later, the door opened, revealing the black-robed doctor, whose cold gaze met the two men.
“The item is gone.”
“Doesn’t that just prove the item was from a dream then…?” Having realized certain facts, Helm’s attitude towards Dr. Callan subtly shifted, his voice no longer as loud as before.
“Which of you… no, it couldn’t have been you…”
Dr. Callan stepped aside, allowing the two men to enter.
On the table lay various items resembling medicinal herbs and a test tube filled with liquid.
“The item the Dean gave me is still here, but the one Bishop Sartre gave me is missing.” Ghervil said, sitting by the table.
“What was it?” Ramsey inquired, leaning in to examine the materials without touching them.
“It was titled ‘Somnolence and Ailments,’ a book written in dream script.”
“A book from Bishop Sartre… perhaps it’s connected to the cemetery ritual…” Ramsey’s voice gradually deepened.
“What is the purpose of that ritual?” Ghervil asked.
“To cast everyone in this city into a deep, dream-filled sleep.”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers.
“Including you and me.”