“You, you, who exactly are you?”
As soon as Lynch regained his senses, the first thing he heard was the dry, hoarse voice of Mrs. Nightingale.
The elegance and kindness he had previously known were entirely gone. Her trembling voice was filled with shock, as if she had witnessed something beyond her comprehension.
Only then did Lynch notice that the room had become a complete mess.
The floor was still mostly intact, but the six runes at the corners of the hexagram had shattered completely. A dark red mist had poured out from the broken runes, though it quickly dissipated under the radiance of the holy emblem on the ceiling.
The iron bed had been overturned by great force and was now twisted and deformed, yet it still held the patient, who remained full of vitality and was roaring quite powerfully.
Mrs. Nightingale and her two assistants were sitting on the floor, seemingly unable to get up. Their bird-mask beaks had fallen off, and they all wore expressions of extreme shock. Mrs. Nightingale, in particular, had lost all color in her wrinkled face and even had tears in her eyes. Her trembling finger pointed at Lynch, clearly appearing quite distraught.
What was going on? Was this a success or a failure? Why was she so surprised?
But none of that mattered. Lynch immediately asked the question that concerned him most in his mind.
‘Neighbor, what I just saw was Fiona, the Lord of Suffering, right? The other one was you. Did you save me?’
【It was her. She held no malice; she merely wanted to see me. Ordinarily, there would have been no danger, but you peeked at her image through your inspiration, which would have brought upon you a catastrophic end.】
‘So, that back I saw was your true form? Did you manifest yourself to protect me?’
【Remember, Lynch, even as you are now, you cannot look directly upon the Supreme. The Supreme is extremely dangerous to you, even if they harbor no malice.】
‘Just like the image from your holy memory, that must be you. You have finally appeared.’
【……】
The next moment, an invisible force slammed into Lynch. He felt his consciousness jolt violently before he suddenly snapped back to clarity.
Why kick me out? I was just asking. Although it is a bit annoying, you were the one who changed the subject first.
【Do not worry about her; I have driven her away.】 A faint voice echoed in his mind, 【I have told you before, I am always here.】
Hmm, I believe you.
Lynch’s lips curled upward slightly. He stopped pestering his neighbor and stepped forward to help Mrs. Nightingale up from the floor.
Upon contact, he realized that the old lady’s muscles were trembling slightly, and her heart was beating quite rapidly, as if she had seen something terrifying.
No, it was not fear. Lynch could tell; it was excitement—excitement so intense that her whole body was shaking.
The old woman had grabbed Lynch’s hand, her thin, withered fingers pinching his palm until it hurt.
“Do you know what just happened? This is impossible, absolutely impossible. Who on earth are you? Are you truly not a favored one of the Lord?”
“Huh? What’s going on?”
“The Lord’s will descended here, personally driving away the remnant consciousness of the evil god that was opposing you, and facilitated this ritual. Are you truly not a believer of the Lord? Then why were you able to draw the Lord’s gaze here? Praise the Holy Spirit. A divine manifestation—this is a miracle one only sees once every few decades.”
More than that, I also know she almost assimilated me for no reason, only to be driven away by my neighbor.
And I was kicked out by my neighbor for it.
But why are the three of you looking at me so frighteningly? You look like you’re going crazy, as if you want to dissect me on the spot. If I were to just go along with it, you’d probably lock me up in the church and worship me.
No, I have to calm them down first. These believers of Suffering always seem even less normal than their god.
Lynch coughed and shook his head vigorously. “Asking me why this happened is useless. Why she suddenly jumped out to help me is something only she can answer. You and I are both mortals of this world. Don’t many churches say that mortals… uh…”
“Mortals cannot presume to fathom the will of the gods?”
“Right, that’s the one. So I don’t know why she suddenly helped, either.” Lynch’s eyes darted around, and he suddenly pressed his hand against his pocket. “I’ll state this first: even if she helped, it was her own initiative. It has nothing to do with me. I won’t be returning the one penny fee I collected. Don’t even think about it.”
“……Fine, you are correct. Mortals cannot presume to understand the will of the gods.”
The old lady gradually calmed down, returning to her usual gentle self, and said warmly:
“The will of the gods does not descend upon the mortal world lightly. That the Lord chose to focus on you through this ritual today means there must be some element within you capable of attracting divine attention. Perhaps you do not know, or perhaps you are unwilling to say; rest assured, we will not ask further. But we want you to know that the Lord only pays attention to those she is willing to favor. Since she was willing to personally facilitate this ritual, it means that from today on, the doors of the Church of Suffering will always be open to you. Remember, if you encounter any difficulties in the future, you may come to the church for help. As long as it is within our power, the believers of the Lord of Suffering are always ready to lend a hand.”
“My honor, madam.” Knowing he wouldn’t be dissected, Lynch breathed a sigh of relief. He removed his mask and gave an apologetic smile. “I truly do not know why she stepped in to help, but please express my gratitude to her. No matter what happened along the way, at least her intentions were kind. So, does this mean the ritual was a success?”
As he spoke, Lynch looked toward the center of the hexagram.
The swirling blood vortex had stopped. The two types of blood that had previously been clearly separated were now fused into one. The color had turned to a normal dark red, and it was floating in the air, gently rippling.
The two assistants woke as if from a dream and hurriedly collected the floating blood into a sealed metal bottle. Mrs. Nightingale smiled and nodded, gesturing for him to follow. She led Lynch out of the snow-white room and toward the door:
“The ritual has concluded successfully. You may leave the rest to us. We will begin drug development shortly and do our utmost to complete it as soon as possible to save more innocent lives. Time is precious, so we will not keep you as a guest. You are welcome anytime you have need.”
“If there is anything you need from me, you can have Miss Diana notify me, or write me a letter directly.” Lynch followed behind the old lady, thinking for a moment before asking, “There shouldn’t be any other difficulties with the follow-up work, right? I’m a bit curious—when you faced those epidemics in the past, did it always require this much trouble?”
“How could that be? Those were ordinary plagues that could be treated with worldly medicine; it wouldn’t be this troublesome.” The old lady chuckled as she explained, “But this disease was caused by mysterious erosion. It is incurable and can only be dealt with in this manner. That is why, if it were to become a plague as you feared, it would be a world-ending catastrophe, because no medicine could cure it. Fortunately, it is impossible for this disease to transform into a plague, so that is a stroke of luck.”
As they spoke, the two had already stepped out of the white tower. Outside, the sun was bright, and people were coming and going, filled with the bustling atmosphere of the mortal world.
Thinking that he had just gone in for a brief moment and, in a single thought, decided the life or death of perhaps tens or hundreds of thousands of people, Lynch’s mood turned strangely complex.
Is this the responsibility that naturally follows when one’s ability reaches a certain level?
Lynch sighed with emotion and pulled himself together. Just as he was about to bid farewell to Mrs. Nightingale, a series of rapid footsteps sounded from behind.
It shouldn’t be an enemy, as the old lady did not look nervous, merely surprised.
Lynch’s heart skipped a beat. When he turned his head, he saw several children, no older than ten, running over while playing.
By the time Lynch turned around, the children had already brushed past him.
Lynch immediately frowned. One of the children looked familiar; he had seen them around little Martha before. They were that group of little robbers from the Crown District.
There’s no way it’s that coincidental. They ran past the moment I came out; they must have done it on purpose.
Oh no, are they trying to steal something again? The Flaming Red Lips is still in my pocket. If those little thieves manage to swipe it, that would be trouble.
Ignoring the need to explain to Mrs. Nightingale, Lynch’s face darkened. He was determined to teach these little thieves a harsh lesson. At the same time, he quickly searched his pockets, but stopped after a few movements, pulling out a tattered piece of paper.
Hmm?
He held it in his palm and glanced at it with the most subtle of movements. Lynch’s breathing suddenly hitched, and he immediately became alert.
“Beware, the black skins.”
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