Are You Ready?

This was a confrontation where failure was not an option, for the consequences of defeat were far more despairing than death—to be eroded by a disease born of Divine Authority, to spend one's final month in madness, and ultimately to die a meaningless death.

On one side were tens of thousands of lives that could potentially be saved, and on the other was his own safety. The choice was actually quite obvious to Lynch.

Lynch did not mind saving innocents within his capabilities, nor did he mind dying a noble death for those he cared about, and he certainly did not mind risking his life to fulfill his responsibilities or make amends for his mistakes.

But he was not willing to risk his life to save people who had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Nightingale indeed deserved respect as a saint, and her actions moved Lynch deeply, but he had no interest in following her example. Life, aging, illness, and death were the natural laws of the mortal world, and having already embarked on the path of immortality, he had to get used to them.

However, there was another matter he cared about.

‘Neighbor, if the confrontation fails, can my will resist the erosion of the disease?’

【Regrettably, what you will suffer then is physical damage from the disease rather than the erosion of your soul by mysterious filth. Your special will won't be of any use.】

‘Certain death?’

【The probability of death is extremely high.】

‘Sigh, my destruction of Mordiggian's clone has been guided from the shadows by that black spider of the Shadow Alliance, along with the silhouette of the unknown major god behind him. We still don't know their true objective. I'm very worried that this is also part of their plan. To avoid being caught off guard when the time comes, it's necessary to make some preparations in advance. What do you think?’

【I will stay by your side and witness every choice you make.】

So you're just not going to offer any advice. Lynch fell silent, feeling a bit heavy-hearted.

【There is always a price to pay for what you wish to obtain, Lynch.】 Lady Luna's voice remained gentle, but Lynch could hear the underlying solemnity in it. 【This is not to make things difficult for you, but this is your own journey. If you wish to walk it with your own will, you cannot avoid paying the price and making every single decision on your journey alone.】

‘Tsk, true. It really is a very fair price; I was just being greedy.’ Lynch smiled in his mind. ‘So, for my choice this time, even though I know the investment and the return are completely unbalanced, I still plan to take the risk.’

【You do not need to explain yourself to me, Lynch. As I said, this is your journey.】

‘But you're watching, Lady Goddess. This isn't just my journey; it's our journey. Even if it's just to let you see better scenery, I still have to explain it to you, hehe.’

【Heh...】 Her laugh was as soft as water. 【You said something earlier, remember? To Sol's priest.】

‘My heart and my actions are as clear as a mirror, and all my deeds are pure?’

【Therefore, do not worry. I am with you.】

Tsk... I like this answer.

Both inside and outside his consciousness, Lynch smiled. Looking at Mrs. Nightingale, whose eyes held a faint glimmer of anticipation, he said, “Since you are prepared to declare war on the disease once more, I am naturally willing to stand on your side and do my part to protect the innocent.”

“I believe I have already made the danger very clear, child. Regarding the compensation...”

“But as a Soul Severer, I already keep company with distortion and death every single day. Rather than worrying about having a little more or a little less trouble, it's better to follow my heart and do what I believe is right.” Lynch waved his hand dismissively. “As for the compensation, I've actually already received it.”

“Ah?” The elderly woman was slightly surprised.

Clink. Lynch flipped the one-penny coin he had snatched back earlier.

“Isn't this it? You already paid me the moment we met.” Lynch patted the elderly woman's arm, his eyes behind the mask sparkling with amusement. “While I do care about money, I haven't reached the point of greed. Helping myself to medical funds? I wouldn't dare do such a thing; my conscience wouldn't allow it. Besides, I really have already received my compensation. Hehe, it's obvious that the Church of Suffering's funds aren't very abundant. Aside from public donations, most of it probably comes from donors within the church. A certain Eldest Miss of yours who wishes to remain anonymous has already donated quite a lot to me on your behalf, and she'll likely donate even more in the future. If I squeeze any more out of your medical funds, I'm worried my head will be blown off by a shotgun next time.”

The elderly woman froze for a moment, then patted Lynch's arm and said softly, “I underestimated you, child. Thank you for your contribution. You are a good person.”

“???”

This old lady is quite wicked. We were having a perfectly fine conversation, and suddenly she insults me out of nowhere.

Hmph, you guys are providing the people, the money, and the technology to help me achieve my goal, and yet you're still thanking me. You are the real good people; your entire church is full of good people.

“But I must also respect my own profession and efforts, Mrs. Nightingale. I cannot help for absolutely nothing. Therefore, I have one condition. I hope you can guide the Church of Suffering to develop the treatment as quickly as possible. You mentioned earlier that the development period would take at least half a month, so it would be best not to exceed that timeframe. After all, the illness waits for no one, and saving one more person is always better. Furthermore, I must have the right to free and prioritized use of the developed medicine.”

“Very well. I can make the decision on this matter. I will allocate the church's resources to fully commit to developing the treatment.”

That's good. The sooner it's completed, the more at ease I'll be.

“Then private detective Lynch Levive is at your service.” Lynch placed a hand over his chest and bowed. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, we need your blood. Follow me.”

The elderly woman nodded to the two white-robed figures who had been watching for a long time. The two of them had already detached the iron bed from the floor and began pushing the gagged patient out of the cell.

To avoid scaring any passersby, they did not use the elevator in the main hall. Instead, they bypassed it and took a small side elevator straight to the top floor. Along the way, the noise of releasing air valves and the clashing of metal gears made the patient increasingly agitated. Her violent struggles caused the leather straps to shake continuously, making Lynch's heart skip a beat as he watched.

“In the occult, blood is a very special existence.”

Whether it was an illusion or not, Lynch felt that Mrs. Nightingale's attitude had changed slightly; she seemed much more relaxed and casual than before, though her explanation grew increasingly patient:

“It represents not only oneself but also one's bloodline. It is defined not only by the physical body but also by the soul. In other words, a single drop of blood may not be able to fully represent your body and soul, but it is highly symbolic. It can reflect your entire state, including physical changes and soul abnormalities.”

As they spoke, the group reached the top floor and entered a special room.

The pure white room was completely empty. Hanging high in the center of the ceiling was the Ouroboros holy emblem, which radiated a faint sacred aura, naturally instilling a sense of awe.

On one side of the room, a holy portrait hung high on the wall. The painting depicted a woman in a white robe, wearing an Ouroboros headband and holding a double-headed snake scepter. Her back was turned to the viewer, leaving only a silhouette standing against the wind.

Fiona, the Lord of Suffering and Pain.

Upon entering the room, Lynch bowed slightly toward the portrait. He then watched as the two white-robed figures pushed the iron bed under the painting and secured it. After that, they pulled out a syringe and drew a large vial of dark, thick blood from the patient.

“The power of blood is sometimes more like a form of resonance; it does not change just because it leaves the body. Even when separated from the physical form, it conceptually maintains its integrity with its original owner. In other words, a vial of blood can sometimes represent the entire person in an occult sense.”

With that, the elderly woman took the syringe, flicked it, and observed it against the gaslight for a moment. Then, she set it aside, picked up an empty one, and gestured to Lynch. Looking at the syringe, which was as thick as an infant's arm, Lynch curled his lips inwardly, sighed, and extended his arm.

Just you wait, Diana. Just for this vial of blood, I'm going to freeload at your place for three days.

“But the trouble lies precisely in this resonance. Once we alter the state of fresh blood on an occult conceptual level, the change will immediately feed back to the original owner through integrity and resonance. Because of this, many attacks and curses executed through blood have been born. They are often bizarre, unpredictable, difficult to guard against, and extremely dangerous.”

As Nightingale spoke, she pulled out the needle. The syringe was now filled with Lynch's dark red blood. Nodding in satisfaction, she set it down and gestured to her two assistants to begin preparations. She then looked at Lynch and said solemnly:

“We will utilize the integrity of your blood to exert influence on this disease, using your will to warp its concept so that mortal medicines can take effect. However, the evil god's power will also feed back to you through the resonance of the blood, bringing immense risk.”

“Once the ritual begins, it cannot be stopped. When it ends, we will either succeed, or we will have one more patient.”

“Mr. Lynch Levive, one final confirmation... are you ready?”