Chapter 394: Chapter 394
"Oh, you greedy guy. Fine, go ahead, get rid of that damn drunk."
His companion drawled, thinking to himself that he hadn't specified what kind of corpse he wanted.
Just as the gatekeeper stepped out to chase away the drunk, another sound echoed from deep within the fog. It was a carriage. The road in front of the factory was an uneven, cobbled path, and the wheels clattered violently against the stones.
A flicker of unease sparked within them, and both men stared intently at the approaching carriage.
The carriage hurtled toward them like the wind, showing no sign of stopping. The instant it shot past the factory gates, a few strange, soft thuds echoed from a spot momentarily obscured from view. After the carriage had passed, both gatekeepers were lying on the ground.
Bone-like spikes had erupted from one man's back, but more than half of them were shattered.
"Honestly, that was too easy. And to think I was so committed to my role."
Captain Bincy stood to the side, shaking his wrists. The carriage glided to a stop, and eight men leaped out in quick succession from its small compartment.
Two of them remained behind to deal with the gatekeepers, while the other seven followed closely behind Captain Bincy as he headed deeper into the compound.
Directly opposite the entrance stood a row of low, red-tiled buildings. The iron gate was bolted shut, and the place looked deserted.
Bincy waved a hand. A man named Schleich carefully pulled two steam bombs from his pocket, slid the bolt open, and expertly tossed them against the base of the wall.
As white steam hissed from small vents on the sides of the bombs, a massive explosion erupted, followed by a series of sharp cracks. At the same moment, identical blasts echoed from two other directions within the factory complex.
A blade of grass dangled from Captain Bincy's lips. His hat was tilted to one side, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trench coat. His team stood behind him, and as one, they extended their hands. A golden barrier, shaped like the pages of a book and emblazoned with a holy emblem, linked together to block the aftershock of the explosion.
The violent shockwave sent the man's trench coat billowing. He spat, spitting the blade of grass onto the ground.
The battle that followed held little suspense. Three squads advanced from different directions. Though they encountered unexpectedly strong enemies within the factory complex—and even a horde of ghouls in the central boiler room—such resistance was no match for over twenty well-trained Enchanters from the Orthodox Churches.
The informant's tip had been dead-on; this was the target. During the fight with the cultists, the force of a corpse explosion brought down an entire section of the factory. The resulting chain reaction of detonating steam equipment delayed Captain Bincy's squad, so by the time they reached the fuel warehouse, a team of Enchanters in black robes bearing the emblem of the Church of Death and End was already there.
"What's the situation?"
Captain Bincy crushed a dry twig under the heavy sole of his boot as he strode forward.
Stacks of wooden crates and piles of coal obscured most of the view inside. But after moving past them, he saw a vast, open space in the center of the warehouse. The ground itself was glowing, transforming the fuel into something strange.
"Just as we thought. It's airborne."
It was now the second day of the strange plague. As time passed, an unsettling atmosphere settled over the entire city. While most citizens had only heard rumors of an outbreak and their daily lives remained largely unaffected, the sight of hurried police patrols and carriages racing wildly through the streets cast a pall over everyone's mood.
The hospitals were already overflowing with unconscious patients. The churches, after taking in as many as they could, were also rapidly reaching capacity. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novelꞁire.net
Anxious residents asked their neighbors what was happening, and wild rumors began to circulate uncontrollably.
The streets were emptier than ever; only near the police stations, churches, and hospitals could one find teeming crowds.
After seeing Mary and Robert off, Jenkins found an empty room to get some sleep. When he opened his eyes again, a black-and-white tentacle...
"Oh, it's just Chocolate's tail."
He wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead, scooping the cat up by its middle as he sat up.
Outside, the sunlight was dim, and the fog was as thick as ever. He realized a dark blue, striped blanket had been draped over him at some point. On the table before the sofa sat some bread and a bowl of steaming soup.
He glanced to the side and saw Miss Bevanna. She was wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and had a pale red coat draped over her shoulders. She was bent over a desk, writing something with a fountain pen.
The kerosene lamp on her desk burned much brighter than the gaslight on the wall, and the metal nib of her pen gleamed coldly.
"I'm awake... What time is it?"
"Five in the afternoon. The sun will be setting soon."
"What are you doing here?"
"Work. Some important documents. Oh, and if you're asking why I'm here, it's because we all agree that your safety is our top priority right now."
As she spoke, she waved a hand, and a golden aura on the walls gradually faded.
His head throbbed as he sat up, likely from a poor night's sleep. Jenkins clutched his forehead with a frown and reached for a piece of white bread on the table. He offered it to Chocolate first, but the cat didn't even glance at it, so he took a bite himself.
"What's the situation now?"
He hadn't felt hungry, but the moment the soft, fragrant bread touched his lips, a pang of hunger struck him. His voice came out muffled as he was still chewing.
"We've found a crucial lead. This 'Silver Vertigo' is airborne. The cultists are treating fuel with some special method and then burning it at specific locations throughout the city, forming a massive ritual.
"Explaining the specifics would be tedious. You can ask Papa Oliver; he knows the details. The patients, however, are proving to be a difficult problem. The life-draining effect has already begun to manifest. It's not yet noticeable in the young, but a number of the elderly have already passed away. The cause of death is organ failure."
"Their life force is draining?"
Miss Bevanna nodded, capping her pen. "The cultists' ritual must be stopped at its core. Otherwise, destroying the individual combustion sites is pointless. I'm here not only to protect you but also to wait for word. The moment they reveal themselves..."
Her eyelids drooped, and Jenkins guessed it was to hide the dangerous glint in her eyes.
After a quick dinner, Jenkins went to visit Bishop Parrold. The old man's complexion was excellent—in fact, it was unnaturally good.
This must have been an unexpected side effect of last night's healing. Miss Bevanna had likely noticed what was happening to the bishop, which was why she had promptly stopped Jenkins from using his abilities any further.