“Who... Who on earth are you?”
As soon as Lynch came to his senses, the first thing he heard was Mrs. Nightingale's dry, hoarse voice.
There was none of her previous elegance and kindness in her trembling voice, which was now filled with shock, as if she had witnessed something utterly incomprehensible.
Only then did Lynch notice that the room had become a complete mess.
The floor was still relatively intact, but the six runes at the vertices of the hexagram had all shattered. A dark red mist was pouring out of the broken runes, though it quickly dissipated under the light shining from the holy emblem on the ceiling.
The iron bed had been violently overturned, its frame twisted and deformed, but it still held the energetic patient, whose roars remained quite powerful.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Nightingale and her two assistants were sprawled on the floor, seemingly unable to get up. Their bird-mask beaks had fallen off, revealing expressions of utter shock. This was especially true for Mrs. Nightingale; her wrinkled face was completely devoid of color, streaked with tears, and her trembling finger pointed at Lynch in sheer bewilderment.
What was going on? Had it succeeded or failed? Why was she so shocked?
But none of that mattered. Lynch immediately asked the question he cared about most in his mind.
‘Neighbor, the one I saw just now was Fiona, the Lord of Suffering, right? And the other was you? You saved me?’
【It was her. She harbored no malice; she merely wanted to see me once. Originally, there was no danger, but you peeked at her image through your inspiration, which would have brought absolute ruin upon you.】
‘So, that silhouette from behind was you? You showed yourself to protect me?’
【Remember, Lynch, even now, you cannot look directly upon the Supreme. The Supreme is extremely dangerous to you, even if they harbor no malice.】
‘It matches the image in your holy memory. It must be you. You've finally shown yourself.’
【...】
In the next instant, an invisible force suddenly struck Lynch. He felt his consciousness shudder violently before he snapped back to reality.
Why did she have to kick me out? I was just asking. Although it was a bit annoying, she was the one who had changed the subject first.
【Do not worry about her. I have driven her away,】 a faint voice echoed in his mind. 【I told you, I am always here.】
Yes, I believe you.
The corners of Lynch's mouth curled up slightly. He stopped pestering his neighbor and stepped forward quickly to help Mrs. Nightingale up.
Upon touching her, he realized that the elderly lady's muscles were trembling slightly, and her heart was beating incredibly fast, as if she had seen something terrifying.
No, it wasn't fear. Lynch could tell—it was excitement. She was trembling with pure excitement.
The elderly woman grabbed Lynch's hand, her withered fingers squeezing his palm until it throbbed with pain.
“Do you know what just happened? This is impossible, absolutely impossible! Who on earth are you? Are you truly not one of the Lord's favored?”
“Huh? What's going on?”
“The Lord's will descended here! She personally drove away the residual consciousness of the evil god that was fighting you, allowing the ritual to succeed. Are you truly not a believer of the Lord? Then why were you able to draw the Lord's gaze here? Praise the holy spirits! Divine attention... this is a miracle that can only be witnessed once in decades!”
More than that, I also know she almost assimilated me for no reason, only to be driven away by my neighbor.
And she even got me kicked out by my neighbor.
But why are the looks on your faces so terrifying? You look like you're about to go mad, staring at me as if you want to dissect me on the spot. If I agree with you, you'll 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 more unhinged than their deity.
Lynch cleared his throat and shook his head vigorously. “It's useless to ask me about the reason behind this. As for why she suddenly rushed out to help me, you'll have to ask her yourself. Both you and I are merely mortals of the mortal world. Don't many churches say that mortals... er...”
“Mortals must not presume to fathom the will of the gods?”
“Yes, exactly. So I have no idea why she suddenly helped either.” Lynch's eyes darted around, and he suddenly pressed his hand against his pocket. “Let me make this clear first: even if she did help, she did it of her own accord. It has nothing to do with me. I am absolutely not refunding the one penny I charged you, so don't even think about it.”
“...Forget it, you are right. Mortals must not attempt to comprehend the will of the gods.”
The elderly lady gradually calmed down, regaining her usual kindness as she spoke gently:
“The will of the gods rarely descends upon the mortal world. Today, the Lord focused her attention on you through this ritual, which means there must be something about you that is worthy of drawing divine attention. Perhaps you do not know, or perhaps you are unwilling to say. Rest assured, we will not pry. But we hope you understand that the Lord only pays attention to those she wishes to favor. Since she was willing to personally facilitate this ritual, it means that from this day forward, the doors of the Church of Suffering will always be open to you. Remember, if you encounter any difficulties in the future, you can come to the church for help. As long as it is within our power, the believers of the Lord of Suffering will always be ready to lend a hand.”
“My honor, Mrs. Nightingale.” Relieved that he wouldn't be dissected, Lynch let out a breath and took off his mask, offering an apologetic smile. “I truly don't know why she rushed out to help. However, please convey my gratitude to her. No matter what happened in the middle, she at least meant well. So, does this mean the ritual was a success?”
With that, Lynch looked toward the center of the hexagram.
The rotating vortex of blood had stopped. The two types of blood, which had previously been distinctly separated, had now merged into one. Their color had turned into a normal dark red, and they floated gently in the air.
The two assistants snapped out of their daze and hurriedly collected the floating blood into a sealed metal bottle. Mrs. Nightingale nodded with a smile and gestured for Lynch to follow, leading him out of the snow-white room toward the exit.
“The ritual has concluded successfully. You can 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 won't keep you as a guest. You are welcome back anytime you need us in the future.”
“If you need anything from me, you can have Miss Diana notify me, or write to me directly.” Following behind the elderly lady, Lynch thought for a moment and asked, “There shouldn't be any other difficulties in the subsequent work, right? I'm a bit curious—was it always this troublesome when you faced epidemics in the past?”
“Of course not. Those were ordinary plagues that could be treated with medicine of the mortal world; they weren't nearly this troublesome,” the elderly lady explained with a chuckle. “But this disease is caused by mystery erosion, making it incurable. This is the only way. So, if this disease were to turn into a plague, as you feared before, it would truly be a world-ending catastrophe because no medicine could cure it. Fortunately, it is impossible for this disease to transform into a plague, which is a blessing in disguise.”
As they spoke, the two stepped out of the white tower. Outside, the sun shone brightly, and people bustled about, filling the air with the lively atmosphere of the mortal world.
Knowing that he had just taken a quick trip inside and, with a mere thought, decided the fate of potentially tens or even hundreds of thousands of lives, Lynch felt a strange sensation wash over him.
Was this the responsibility that naturally came once one's power reached a certain level?
Lynch let out a sigh of emotion. Shaking off his thoughts, he was just about to bid Mrs. Nightingale farewell when a series of hurried footsteps echoed from behind.
It probably wasn't an enemy, as the elderly lady showed no signs of tension, only a bit of surprise.
Lynch's heart stirred. He turned around and saw a few children, at most ten years old, running over while playing and shouting.
By the time Lynch turned his head, the children had already brushed past him.
Lynch's brow furrowed immediately. One of the children looked familiar; he had seen him around little Martha. He was one of those little bandits from King District.
There was no way it was a coincidence that he ran into them the moment he came out. They must have run past him on purpose.
Oh no, are they trying to steal something again? The Flaming Red Lips was still on him. It would be trouble if these little bandits stole it.
Without pausing to explain to Mrs. Nightingale, Lynch's face darkened. He resolved to teach these little bandits a harsh lesson. At the same time, he quickly patted down his pockets, but stopped after a few seconds, pulling a tattered slip of paper from his pocket.
Hm?
Holding it in his palm, he glanced at it with the utmost stealth. Suddenly, Lynch's breath caught, and he instantly became alert.
“Watch out for the black skins.”
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