The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 79: The Saintess (3)

Chapter 79: The Saintess (3)

Some time had passed.

Saintess of Rune Dolores Quavadis has been thinking to herself since she received the report of the growing number of patients.

"Curing them with divine power is a temporary solution. We can't stop the new patients from coming.

That's because it doesn't cure the source of the plague.

The patients keep showing up because somewhere in this slum, a well is contaminated with the plague.

The wells often followed the water table beneath the ground, and as a result, it was impossible to completely eradicate the plague without purifying the water source.

"The number of reported wells in this slum is 42, plus unreported wells dug by the villagers themselves....

Dolores worried.

If this happens, there is no choice but to concentrate the divine power to one well that leads to the deepest place.

The essence of pure water.

Concentrate and focus the divine power, make it the size of a pill, release it into the water, and it will purify the entire slum along the underground waterways.

So the priests of Quavadisgar immediately began clinical trials.

Divine Essence to purify the water, clinical trials 1a through 3c.

If they all pass, the plague of the slums will be eradicated.

While the priests of Quavadis Family gathered their divine powers to create the Essence, Dolores tended to the more pressing cases.

"A terrible plague indeed."

This red death, once contracted and cured, was a disease that could return again and again.

The incubation period was extremely short, but the time to death was very long.

What's more, it felt like an artificial compilation of the worst aspects of all the plagues in history.

The malice itself.

It was an extremely virulent plague that was deliberately created to torment humans, causing the patient as much pain as possible for as long as possible.

" ... This is not the time for this. We need to cure one more person."

Even now, more patients were streaming into the infirmary.

Dolores was on her feet within a few minutes of sitting in the chair.

A moment.

A ping.

She stumbled slightly as she stepped onto the floor.

It was overwork to the point that she, who was born with mild anemia and full divine power, felt tired.

"I can do this, though."

Dolores dragged her exhausted body out of the barracks, her holy power slightly restored.

She couldn't wait to comfort the suffering patients as soon as possible.

Then.

"Ouch! A saintess has come out!"

"Oh, what a holy figure!"

"Saintess, we are with you!"

"From now on, you have nothing to worry about, Runmen!"

There were men following Dolores as she headed toward the slums.

High nobles, or the scions of high nobles.

They had knocked on the door of the Quarvadis not long ago and had been refused a meeting.

"...What brings you here?"

Dolores asked.

Beautiful blonde hair, clear blue eyes, flawless skin, and a clear voice.

Just hearing her voice was enough to make the men in the room shiver.

And then the male competition began.

"I, too, have followed the saint to this place to offer my services!"

"How could a noble lady be sent to such a filthy, lowly place alone!"

"We brought only three carts filled with donations and relief supplies. Please tell the beggars to gather! hot ha! Today is the day they ride."

"I would go to any place more shabby than this if the saintess was there!"

The young men talked eagerly, each trying to win Dolores' favor.

But the coldness in Dolores's eyes as she received their envious glances was unbearable.

When Dolores walked toward the front without answering, the young men thought they had her permission to follow.

"Thanks to the saint, I've never been to a place like this before. I've only seen backward neighborhoods like this in books, but it's a refreshing experience."

"Haha, I thought that only skinny, dirty people would live in the slums, but there are still people living there. I didn't realize it. I guess you have to experience things to know them."

"But looking at the kids walking around, they're wearing nicer clothes and shoes than I thought. Are they really poor? They don't look that different from the kids in the middle class neighborhood. Hmm, aren't they a little too extravagant, these people."

"Oh, I don't know if I'm paying too much for this donation. I wonder if these people will lose the will to stand on their own... ... ."

They had their servants bring in carts full of donations and relief supplies.

Eventually, Dolores arrived at the temporary barracks where the patients were gathered.

Boldly, she slipped through the curtain and went inside.

But the young men following her pause and hesitate.

"Is it safe? There must be a lot of plague victims in here."

"Ugh. If they move it, I'll have to.... I'm a third generation nobles"

"It doesn't matter, the saint will fix it!"

"The brave get the beautiful! I'm coming!"

Some of them turn away in fear.

Some took a deep breath and bravely stepped out into the barracks.

Those who followed Dolores into the barracks had to cover their noses as they gagged.

The smell of sweat, blood, vomit, piss, and shit everywhere, the foul breath and body odor of unwashed patients, and the air unpleasantly warmed by elevated body temperatures.

Visions of red death floated like ghosts through the thick vapor of filth.

The stench and foul heat, combined with the moans and cries that came from everywhere, made the barracks seem like a living tomb itself.

"Uh... ... uh uh uh... ... "

Where did the second and third generation of nobles, young people who inherited inheritance at a young age and became wealthy, encounter such a terrible and desperate sight?

...Chulp!

Water poop poured out by the patient next to him fell to the floor.

The shards splattered and stuck to their shoes and pants, and they ran out of the barracks, screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Ew! It stinks! It's filthy! How dare you...!?"

"How much do these shoes cost!"

"Priests! Priests! Treat me first! Treat me first! Get out! I'm plagued!"

"Open the door! Tell them to get out of the way! I'm getting out of here!"

Before she could take a breath of the air in the barracks, the entire group of young men fled.

Saintess Dolores looked at them with a pitying gaze.

"...I knew it."

Dolores' beauty had long been well known.

Within her family, outside of it, and at the Academy.

Wherever she went, the eyes of men followed.

No man dared openly flirt with the noble saintess, but she couldn't help being the object of his gaze, as if she was always yearning for something.

Whenever she went out to volunteer during the academy's vacations, or during her free time, there were always men like that following her.

They were disgusted by the sight of the sick, sometimes openly expressing their contempt and disgust.

Sometimes they would secretly turn the sick away behind their backs.

So Dolores distrusted the men who followed her because of her beauty.

If she were to become ugly, if her body were to be covered in such filth and stench, wouldn't they evaporate around her?

And it is disrespectful to leave it and come to the sacred relief site with a special heart.

In the fierce scene of life and death, there should be only one mind, the mind of the patient.

Absolute goodness. Pure selflessness. Dogmatic sacrifice and service. Kindness and affection.

These are the things closest to the grace and love of God.

St. Dolores set her heart on being a martyr and a seeker.

She entered the depths of the barracks with an even more reverent attitude.

The deeper she went into the barracks, the more foul odors and unclean heat she encountered.

Cries and groans of agony mingled with the dancing of the red death, creating a grisly scene.

Dolores drew on what little holy power and stamina she had left and made her way to the farthest reaches of the barracks, to the quarantine area where the sickest patients were kept.

From here, even veteran priests would struggle.

And then.

"...!"

Dolores's eyes went wide.

The innermost barracks, where he'd expected to find nothing but misery and desolation, was surprisingly alive with activity.

Sure, the suffering patients were still there, but....

"Hurry up and get more saline!"

"Yikes, it seems that divine power isn't the only skill in the real world, hurry up and get me a scalpel!"

"...Ohhh. What a skill."

The surrounding priests are all admiring with their mouths half open.

It was a very different attitude from the overworked and depressed officers in the other barracks.

The hardest places bring out the most vibrant life.

A man fighting alone in the dirtiest, fiercest, most inhospitable places.

Even though he is covered with filth all over his body, he examines the patient's condition without any hesitation and silently gives first aid despite the curses and curses he spat out carelessly out of pain.

The Hound of the Night.

He was bustling among the patients, directing the priests.