The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 79: The Saint (Part 2)

Chapter 79: The Saint (Part 2)

“Who exactly are you?” Dolores asked, her voice filled with bewilderment. This was the mysterious being who had suddenly appeared one day, warning of the misfortunes of the Quovadis family. His appearance was incredibly strange, but his aura felt pure and lonely, a stark contrast to his peculiar attire.

“Who are you to know all of these things?” Dolores’s voice began to tremble. Among the guests who suddenly appeared and entrusted their bodies to noble families, there were always politicians who were well-versed in the world’s affairs. However, there were very few who could predict future events as accurately as this man, let alone report an impending epidemic before it happened.

Naturally, Dolores and Mozgus couldn’t help but be curious about the identity of this strange guest.

“Hmm, well! Didn’t the Saint ask you? Who are you?” Mozgus, fiddling with a small teapot that looked like it might crumple at any moment, asked with an insistent tone. It sounded like he was pressuring out of respect for the Saint’s authority, but in reality, he was probably the one most curious about it.

Dolores and Mozgus both had their eyes locked on Vikir’s face, who responded briefly, “Night Hunter.”

Upon hearing this, the expressions of both clerics subtly changed. “Night Hunter… A somewhat ominous name,” Dolores remarked. “Even if you give yourself a nickname, you’ve chosen it as if it were your own clothing. Truly irreverent.”

Dolores and Mozgus both mumbled in agreement.

After that, Vikir remained silent and didn’t say anything more.

Naturally, Mozgus hurried to take action. “Whatever may have happened, Night Hunter, everything you’ve said is a possibility. We need to investigate the details of the epidemic quickly and report to the Lord. We must also prepare a family-level response.”

An emergency had been declared in the faith.

The alarm of faith had been raised. Dolores instructed Mozgus to prepare for a holy pilgrimage to address the epidemic. She also decided to officially report to her father, Humbert L QuoVadis, who was in a nearby monastery. Today, Dolores’s decision would also reach the ears of Naubkoph I, the head of the Rune Church, and become a major event.

It was such a significant event that it would reach that high.

Mozgus quickly went off to convey the Saint’s intentions.

Meanwhile, Dolores continued to stare at Vikir, who was right in front of her.

‘…A lost dog. Tired and lonely.’

Why did she think of herself as a hunting dog when referring to this man? Why did a man who could break even Mozgus, the supreme commander of all, appear so small and pitiful? She felt the scent of a tormented soul, the sound of blood. Sorrow, hatred, loneliness. And all these shackles were being borne by this man alone, as he walked the thorny path of penance.

What she felt from him was an aura akin to that of a prophet or a seeker. She suddenly remembered the words he had muttered with parched lips.

“Theology is, after all, the process of understanding humanity.”

Even the most knowledgeable theologians couldn’t be unaware of this ancient scripture passage. The fact that he knew it indicated that he must be a disciple of the Rune, practicing its doctrine at the forefront, in the lowest and most intense places, where suffering people resided.

‘Otherwise, I couldn’t remember and recite that verse.’

At least that’s what Dolores thought. She was born with the gift of reading others’ souls as a young and inexperienced sixteen-year-old Saint. Perhaps because of this, misunderstandings about Vikir were gradually taking root.

Nevertheless, Vikir simply waited for the appearance of the holy water that could eliminate the “Red Death.”

…

Before long, Vikir hurried toward the slums of Saint Mecca. Dolores, Inquisitor Mozgus, dozens of holy knights, and clergy followed behind him.

“Is it really an epidemic in a place like this?” Dolores said, panting as she climbed the steep stairs. The knights surrounding her were also wearing incredulous expressions.

However, there was no hesitation in Vikir’s steps as he advanced like a vanguard.

Soon, Vikir landed on a high roof in the neighborhood of Dal-Dong. Saint Dolores and Inquisitor Mozgus, along with several dozen holy knights and clergy, followed suit.

“Um, is there really an epidemic in a place like this?” Dolores said, catching her breath as she climbed the steep stairs. The knights surrounding her also wore expressions of disbelief. However, Vikir, who rushed ahead, didn’t show any signs of hesitation.

Before long, Vikir landed on a high roof in the neighborhood. Dolores and Mozgus, still panting from the climb, joined him.

Once there, Vikir scanned the area, alternating his gaze between several chimneys.

Despite the relatively mild weather, smoke rose from several chimneys, indicating that firewood was being used. Vikir focused on the chimneys where smoke was rising.

And sure enough, in some of the houses with smoke rising from the chimneys, the “Red Death” had already broken out.

The first symptoms of the “Red Death” were usually chills and fever. Subsequently, intense pain would spread throughout the body, accompanied by uncontrollable vomiting and diarrhea. Patients would tremble when they saw the red spots gradually appearing on their skin.

When chills set in, people naturally pushed firewood into the chimneys to keep warm. However, the absence of smoke from the chimneys didn’t mean there were no patients. In this poor neighborhood, many houses couldn’t afford enough firewood, so they wrapped themselves tightly in dirty blankets to endure the chills.

Dolores watched the suffering patients and tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, poor souls. Don’t worry. The Lord’s boundless love will heal you.”

She touched the patients without hesitation, praying and offering blessings. Meanwhile, Vikir stood quietly behind her, observing the patient’s condition.

“Fortunately, there are no children.”

His efforts to scare the children away from the well had paid off. Among the patients, there were no children. All of them were early-stage patients who had been infected by drinking water.

Since Vikir had arrived in a hurry, there were only mild cases of infection among the patients. They were all 1st-stage patients who had been infected by drinking water contaminated by the saliva or excrement of 1st-stage patients, who had not yet manifested severe symptoms or developed the red spots on their skin.

There were no fatalities at this point, so it was crucial to suppress the disease early. Dolores gathered the patients in the central square and prayed to the Lord.

“O Light of my life, O Flame of my soul, O my sins, O my spirit. Please look after these young and poor souls gathered here…”

She recited the prayer with a pure voice. Before long, a single tear from Dolores fell onto her cheek, setting off a miracle.

Pahat!

It emitted a bright and holy light, dispelling the red spots on the patients’ bodies. With a single tear and a line of prayer, six patients were freed from the “Red Death.”

“Thank you, Saint! Thank you!”

“Saint is my Savior.”

“I’m healed! The disease is gone! This is a miracle!”

People who had been trembling and vomiting just moments ago stood up as if they had never suffered from the disease. Dolores, who had regained her strength, looked at the healed patients and smiled as if she had never cried.

And one person silently gazed at her smile from behind.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I need.”

Vikir, who was aiming for the miracle of holy water, thought to himself.