The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 80: The Saint (3)

Some time had passed.

Saint Dolores, after receiving reports of an increasing number of patients, was pondering alone.

‘Treating patients with sacred power is a temporary solution. The continuous increase in new patients is inevitable.’

That’s because it didn’t address the source of the plague. The reason patients kept appearing was undoubtedly because the wells in this impoverished area were contaminated with the plague.

Since many wells were connected to underground water sources, it was impossible to completely eradicate the plague without purifying the water source.

‘There are 42 reported wells in this impoverished area, and if you include the unreported ones that the villagers dig themselves…’

Dolores pondered.

In this case, they would have to concentrate sacred power on one well that led to the deepest point.

The essence of purification.

Concentrate and condense sacred power into a pill-sized form, then dissolve it in water. It would purify the entire impoverished area along the underground water path.

So, the clergy of Quovadis ‘s immediately began clinical experiments.

From sacred essence clinical trial 1a to 3c, which would purify the water.

If all of these succeeded, the plague in the impoverished area would be uprooted.

While the clergy of Quovadis were gathering sacred power to create the essence, Dolores was treating the patients that were currently appearing.

‘It’s truly a terrible plague.’

Once infected with the Red Death, there was a risk of it recurring even if it got better once. The incubation period was extremely short, but the time it took to lead to death was incredibly long. Moreover, it felt like they had artificially combined the worst aspects of the plagues that had prevailed in history.

Pure malevolence.

It was an extremely wicked plague created intentionally to cause as much suffering as possible for humans.

‘…This is not the time for this. I need to treat even one more person.’

Even now, countless patients are flocking to the makeshift clinic.

Dolores stood up from her chair not long after sitting down.

In an instant.

Ping –

She staggered slightly as she stepped on the ground.

It was exhausting enough for her, born with mild anemia but brimming with sacred power, to be tired.

‘But I can still do it.’

Dolores confirmed that her sacred power had recovered somewhat and led her tired body out of the makeshift clinic.

She wanted to comfort the suffering patients as soon as possible.

At that moment.

“Ah! The Saintess is here!”

“Oh, what a holy presence!”

“Saintess! We will stand with you!”

“Don’t worry from now on!”

There were men following Dolores toward the impoverished area.

High-ranking nobles or members of wealthy households who had knocked on the door of Quovadis’s a while ago but were refused a meeting.

“…What brings you here?”

Dolores asked.

Beautiful blonde hair, clear blue eyes, flawless skin, and a pure voice. Just hearing her voice made the men gathered here shiver.

Soon, competition among the males began.

“I too have come here to bestow blessings with the Saintess!”

“How can we let such a noble lady go to such a dirty and lowly place alone!”

“I’ve brought three carts filled with donations and relief supplies. Please gather the beggars! Haha! Today is their lucky day.”

“As long as the Saintess is here, I can go to an even humbler place than this!”

The young men shouted enthusiastically to win Dolores’s favor.

But Dolores’s gaze, which received their admiration, was icy.

Without saying a word, she walked straight ahead, and the young men, thinking they had received permission to follow, chattered happily.

“Thanks to the Saintess, I get to see places like this. I’ve only seen them in books, never in reality. Anyway, it’s a fresh experience.”

“Haha, I thought that only the dirtiest and poorest people lived in the slums, but it seems like people still live here, just like in middle-class neighborhoods. I didn’t know. After all, you have to experience things for yourself to truly understand.”

“But looking at the kids running around, they seem to have decent clothes and shoes. Is this place really that poor? Hmm, aren’t these people being a bit too extravagant?”

“Oh my, I don’t know if I’m giving too much in donations. I hope these people don’t lose their will to be self-reliant…”

They had their servants bring carts filled with donations and relief supplies.

Dolores had now arrived at the temporary clinic where the patients had gathered.

Without hesitation, Dolores lifted the curtain and entered.

However, the young men who had followed her hesitated for a moment.

“Is it okay? There might be plague patients inside.”

“Uh, if I get infected… I’m the third heir, you know?”

“What does it matter? The Saintess will heal us!”

“Courageous people win beauty! I’m going!”

Some of them hesitated and turned back.

Some took a deep breath and bravely stepped inside the clinic.

But…

All those who followed Dolores into the clinic had to cover their noses and mouths and fight back the urge to vomit.

The air was filled with the unpleasant smell of sweat, blood, vomit, urine, feces, unwashed patients, and the heat caused by rising body temperatures.

The air inside was discomforting, and everywhere you looked, there were murky basins of water created by the mud. The specters of the Red Deaths floated like ghosts.

As the moans and cries from various places mixed with the stench and the oppressive heat, the clinic felt like a living tomb.

“Uh… Uh…”

Could young nobles, second or third-generation heirs, or those who had inherited fortunes at a young age, have ever witnessed such a dreadful and desperate scene?

Bam!

A patient nearby discharged a stream of diarrhea onto the floor.

As splinters sprayed onto their shoes and pants, they screamed and rushed out of the clinic, tearing their vocal cords.

“Ugh! The smell! It’s disgusting! Who dares…!?”

“These shoes are limited edition!”

“Clerics! Clerics! Treat me first! Aaah! The plague is spreading!”

“Open the door! Let us out! Get out of the way! I need to get out of here!”

Before they could even take a sip of the air inside the clinic, all the young men ran away.

Saint Dolores looked at them with a somewhat pitiful gaze.

“…I knew they would react like that.”

Dolores’s beauty had been famous for a long time.

Both within and outside her family, as well as at the academy, men’s eyes always followed her wherever she went.

No one dared to make open advances towards the noble Saintess, but she always became the subject of longing, desire-filled gazes.

Whenever she went for volunteer work during the academy’s vacation period or breaks, such people always followed her.

Some of them would turn up their noses in disgust at the scene of the sick and sometimes openly express their contempt and disgust. Some even secretly sent the patients away.

That’s why Dolores was disdainful of men who followed her because of her beauty.

If her appearance were to become repulsive and her body covered in filth and stench like this, wouldn’t those men evaporate from her side immediately?

And beyond that, coming with impure intentions to a sacred relief site was blasphemous in itself.

In the midst of life and death struggles, one must always have only thoughts for the patients.

Absolute benevolence. Pure altruism. Fanatical sacrifice and service spirit. Kindness and tenderness.

These were the closest things to God’s grace and love.

As a martyr and a savior, Saint Dolores had firmly resolved her heart.

With an even more devout attitude, she moved deeper into the clinic.

As she entered deeper into the clinic, the stench and impure heat grew more intense.

The red death’s cries, moans of pain, and eerie dance blended with the oppressive atmosphere.

Dolores squeezed the last of her sacred power and strength, heading for the isolation area where the most critical patients were.

Even here, veteran clerics struggled, and it was a challenging area.

And then…

“…!”

Dolores’s eyes widened in surprise.

In the innermost part of the clinic, where she expected only misery and despair, there was unexpectedly an abundance of vitality.

Of course, the suffering patients were still there, but…

“Hurry, bring more saline solution!”

“I-I can’t believe it! It seems that only sacred power isn’t enough in real situations! Quickly, bring the scalpel!”

“…Oh, what incredible skill.”

The clerics nearby were all amazed with their mouths half open.

It was a completely different attitude from the other areas where clerics were exhausted and depressed.

In the most challenging and filthy place, a man fought alone, covered in filth, tirelessly inspecting the patient’s condition, performing emergency procedures, and responding silently to curses and insults thrown at him in agony.

Night hunter.

He was directing the clerics, bustling among the patients.