Chapter 167

Chapter 167

"No one can survive..."

"Mommy..."

"Mother, mother of life, mother of humanity, the origin of blood..."

"Save me, save me, save me..."

Groans, cries of pain, retching sounds, and the gnawing of corpses echoed in Loqiao Makel's mind like ripples bouncing off the walls of a car, making her feel as if she had been dizzy for a second or perhaps several minutes.

It must have been several minutes, because when she regained consciousness again, she found a small plague demon squatting on the backrest of the front seat, examining her face to determine if she was dead.

"Go away," Loqiao said weakly.

To its surprise, she wasn't dead yet. The small plague demon's face, covered with insect eggs, showed a faint hint of regret as it retreated.

Not that it disliked fresh meat, but the reason these creatures were called "small" plague demons, distinguishing them from the larger plague demons, was their timidity or, rather, caution.

Their bodies, similar in size to those of six- or seven-year-old children, made them vulnerable to being killed even by ordinary people in direct confrontations. To protect themselves, they preferred to wait until their victims were dead before feasting, avoiding the risk of being taken down by a dying person's final burst of strength.

They could always wait for their victims to die of disease.

Loqiao couldn't judge the selfish behavior of these creatures. In her youth, she had a more intense personality. When she heard her teacher describe the habits of small plague demons during her medical school days, she thought that if she ever found herself in a situation where she had to wait for death, she would rather take her own life. But now, old and with less agile limbs, she yearned for her teacher's words to be true—apart from spreading viruses, small plague demons wouldn't attack living beings. She truly lacked the strength to fight them off.

"Cough, cough."

The old woman, relying on the small plague demon's timidity, survived a little longer. She covered her mouth and coughed softly, then opened her hand to see a clump of pale red phlegm.

With twenty-five years of nursing experience, Loqiao knew exactly what this meant. She wiped her hand clean with a handkerchief that had become so dirty over the past few days that its original color was unrecognizable, then put it away before turning to look at the young man lying beside her.

Most of the lights inside the car had been damaged in the first crash.

Only two remained lit: one near the driver's seat, barely reaching the back, and another closer to her, which flickered incessantly.

The flickering light played across the young man's face, revealing his flushed skin, drenched in sweat as if he had just stepped out of a bathtub. His long-sleeved round-neck shirt was completely soaked. On his equally flushed neck, large brown and black blisters, emitting a decaying odor, were spreading toward his face.

The last time she checked, these blisters had only reached his chest.

Had she been unconscious for more than a few minutes, perhaps even half an hour? Otherwise, it was hard to explain how the blisters could have grown so quickly.

Once the blisters reached the forehead, the victim would die.

A few rows ahead, the corpses being devoured by several small plague demons served as grim proof of this fact to the survivors still in the car.

Even a strong and healthy young man had blisters up to his chest. For someone like her, an elderly woman, they must have already spread to her face.

Loqiao instinctively raised her hand to touch her face but stopped trembling just before her fingers made contact.

At sixty-two, Loqiao, an ordinary civilian and not a professional, was at an age where one might easily meet the Bellringing Frost Crow.

But Loqiao didn't want to die, not here, and not knowing when her end would come.

The average lifespan of civilians around Lake Rubyring was seventy-five years. She had always believed that, being healthier than average and having retired from the hospital to take on a part-time job enthusiastically, she could live to ninety!

But one must face reality. Loqiao, running a high fever, took several deep breaths before pressing her hand firmly against her face.

She felt the blister on the tip of her nose.

"I can still live a while longer."

Loqiao consoled herself.

"Alright, move before I die."

Huddled in the last row of seats, she moved her sore body and opened a new roll of gauze from the medical kit.

An alcohol spray bottle lay beside her hand, which she had accidentally let go of when she fainted.

Now, she picked up the bottle and, using all her remaining strength—barely enough to lift a spoon—pressed the cap to spray alcohol onto the gauze. Then, she began wiping the young man's forehead to cool him down.

If only there were ice cubes; alcohol wasn't quite effective enough, the veteran nurse of twenty-five years thought, then consoled herself again. This vehicle, after all, was from the Second Sacred Heart Hospital of Crimson City, heading to nearby villages for a free clinic.

Crimson City, located on the eastern shore of Lake Rubyring, was a major city.

Residents of secondary and tertiary cities outside the Lake Rubyring region found it hard to imagine the prosperity of the area around the lake.

For example, if you randomly asked a citizen of Spire City whether they had seen a village or villagers, they might look puzzled and ask, "What are villages and villagers?"

However, villages were common around Lake Rubyring. After all, enclosed cities built to prevent rapid oxygen loss, though expandable, had a population limit. Large cities, with their higher populations, often saw impulsive decisions to conceive children.

Many species gave birth to multiple offspring at once, leading to population growth far exceeding the city's capacity. The Six Pillars of God Church had to build many villages to disperse the population and provide jobs.

These villages typically housed farming factories, and many manufacturing plants as well.

The relocation of farming factories extended the food supply chain within the city.

To improve this, in the Lake Rubyring region, roads and waterways connected cities to villages and villages to each other, allowing large trucks to travel back and forth.

Such factory villages, lacking good medical facilities, made it inconvenient for villagers to seek medical care in the city.

They would rather endure minor discomforts than visit a hospital.

That was their choice, and logically, there was nothing wrong with it.

But it was the Plague Seminar that took advantage of this opportunity to spread a plague with a longer incubation period in the village, which involved The Church of the Mother of Blood and the Radiant Dragon Church.

Leaving aside how the Radiant Dragon Church responded, The Church of the Mother of Blood often organized medical teams to tour villages.

This bus carried one such medical team.

Locho Makel was not a member of the medical team; she had retired from the Second Holy Heart Hospital several years ago. Besides, medical tours were usually opportunities for young people to gain experience, not for someone like her, an old bone.

She was on this bus only because she had to go to White Feather Duck Village for a part-time job. While looking for a ride at the station, she spotted her former employer’s bus and shamelessly hitched a ride.

The young man beside her was also a hitchhiker. He was a student at the Inquisitor School, originally from a village, and should have been staying at school. For some reason, he decided to return home during exam week.

Unable to find another vehicle, he discovered that the bus’s medical tour route would pass his home, so he shyly asked if he could catch a ride.

If the Inquisitor School student wasn’t a ritualist, he must have been a professional.

The leader of the medical team, of course, agreed. Thus, he and Locho, the elderly lady who was also hitching a ride, sat together in the back.

Locho could tell he was troubled and chatted casually with him along the way. What should have been a pleasant journey turned into a nightmare when they encountered a premeditated car accident halfway through.

The driver was severely injured on the spot, and the other passengers suffered various cuts and bruises.

The leader of the medical team, a low-level flesh doctor, was anxious as she performed first aid on the driver. However, a group of gray-robed cultists of an evil deity broke through the mangled doors caused by the crash.

The leader had to abandon the first aid to protect her team, but how could one person stand against many?

The gray-robed cultists gleefully dragged her body off the bus and threw a few small plague demons to guard them.

Throughout the process, the young man, supposedly a student from the Inquisitor School, trembled continuously. Even when others repeatedly looked at him, he remained huddled at the back without moving.

Locho knew why he left school during exam week to return home.

Not everyone can overcome fear, even professionals.

Soon, the gray-robed cultists returned.

One of them boarded the bus and ordered everyone to get off. At that moment, he noticed the young man in school uniform.

"Ho."

The gray-robed figure sneered and approached the trembling young man.

He took one step, then two, then three, gathering gray plague magic in his hand, ready to cast a spell.

Just as he was about to strike, the young man, who could sense the enemy's approach even with his head down, suddenly let out a piercing scream.

The entire bus began to roll like it was inside a washing machine. Locho, who had secretly taken out a small pistol, slammed onto the bus ceiling and then fell to the floor.

When she dizzily got up, she realized that in that instant, the bus they were riding had moved to a new position, swapping places with soil and burying itself between rocks and earth.

It turned out that the young man, who might have planned to drop out of the Inquisitor School, was a teleporter.

In his extreme panic, his magic went berserk, and he teleported the bus to an unknown location.

Fortunately, the heads of the gray-robed cultists also ended up in unknown locations.

Unfortunately, while they had narrowly escaped, the passengers' injuries worsened. They found the young teleporter unconscious, trapping them in this space with no exit, and the small plague demons still on the bus.

They needed to kill the small plague demons.

However, even though these creatures had weak combat abilities, their agility made them difficult for ordinary people to catch and kill.

Moreover, these creatures sacrificed their combat abilities for extremely strong virus transmission capabilities.

Shortly after the bus teleported here, people on the bus began to fall one by one.

Would alcohol be effective against the small plague demons' virus?

Perhaps a little.

After wiping the young man with alcohol, Locho, panting, changed the bandage and wiped herself.

Feeling no relief, she scolded, "Stay back," and slowly walked to the front row seat, where the only young female nurse was still praying incessantly. Under the watchful eyes of the small plague demons, she used alcohol to slightly lower the nurse's temperature.

"Mother, Mother of Sourceblood..." the half-conscious young nurse murmured.

"Sigh, it won't help," Locho whispered. "The Pillar Gods haven't directly interfered in human affairs for a long time."

The gods have their reasons, and even if some will sacrifice, it won't change their decisions.

"They don't act in the human world anymore. The only god currently active in the human world is—"

A name died on the old woman's lips.

Hospitals are places where information flows freely. On the bus, Locho had heard the medical team members discussing the recent suicide narcolepsy incident.

These young people exchanged rumors, feeling both excited and afraid. The names of the evil deities clouded their judgment, and they didn't notice that both the Inquisition and The Church of the Mother of Blood had ambiguous attitudes toward the new god.

Locho understood, but she chuckled and didn't point it out.

Until now—

Until now, Locho realized that to save this group of people who didn't even know where they were, only a miracle would do.

Tripping over the gray-robed corpse in the aisle, Locho, too weak to stand, watched the small plague demons gather around her again. She closed her eyes and then forced them open.

She strained to widen her eyes, as if doing so would make the god whose name was an eye appear from her eyes. She prayed for the third time:

"Pupil in the Mirror, save me, save me, save us..."

"...God," a hesitant, young male voice echoed in her mind, saying, "I can't save you in this situation..."