Lynch rushed straight toward the dungeon entrance with four soldiers trailing behind him. While the clueless soldiers were fueled with anger, Lynch's heart was consumed by worry.
Earlier, when the soldiers received the signal to reinforce the fire brigade, Miss Diana had warned him that leaving the fortress undermanned would make it easy for someone to take advantage of the void.
Besides, with patrolled streets all around, someone running all the way from the city center just to report a fire seemed fishy in itself. More importantly, the two key elements—Dr. Sven and the infected—were both inside the fortress. If someone pulled a surprise attack on their base, everything would be ruined.
So the four of them had decided to split up. Lynch led a group to inspect the fire scene, while the two ladies stayed with Dr. Sven to lay an ambush for any enemy who might try to strike their rear. As long as they managed to draw fresh blood from the intruder, they could use Blood Trace to track down the culprit's location.
As it turned out, the moment Lynch returned with his squad, he ran straight into an unexpected surprise. He hadn't anticipated, however, that the enemy would be so ruthless, going straight for a fatal strike.
May the Neighbor bless them... Please let those two be alright.
He hadn't realized it while planning earlier, but now he recognized just how deeply he feared for the safety of the two ladies. Truth be told, he wouldn't be so worried if it were an open, weapon-to-weapon fight. But everything surrounding this plague was drenched in bizarre, insidious mystery. He didn't even dare imagine how he would cope if something truly terrible happened to either of them.
Harassing his own Neighbor in his thoughts, Lynch sprinted toward the dungeon entrance. Just as he reached it, a blood-drenched figure bolted up the stairs from below.
A wounded beast was the most dangerous, especially when cornered in a narrow corridor.
Both sides froze for a split second before the cloaked ghoul let out a low growl. Swiping its injured left arm at lightning speed, its razor-sharp claws lunged straight for Lynch's throat.
Before his mind could process the move, Lynch—having seen the two corpses at the front gate—instinctively reacted. He snapped his cane upright to block his front, immediately followed by a sharp metallic clang.
The cane parried the throat-slashing claw just in time. Lynch feigned weakness, stumbling back two steps to clear the doorway. The ghoul immediately bolted past him, tossing a vengeful roar over its shoulder as it vanished into the night.
Holy crap, that was close. Looks like I still need to hone my combat reflexes, or I won't be this lucky next time.
Lynch wiped away the cold sweat that broke out as he touched his neck, which had almost parted ways with his body.
Hurried footsteps echoed from the stairs below. Hearing the commotion outside, the three ladies rushed up. Spotting Lynch above, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
“How are you two?” Lynch scanned Diana and Natalie, breathing a sigh of relief only after confirming they were unhurt. He quickly summarized the situation at the square before asking, “Everything go smoothly on your end? Did you get the blood?”
“We got it, smoothly enough. But...”
Miss Diana glanced meaningfully in Dr. Sven's direction. Only then did Lynch notice that the female doctor looked despondent, her eyes heavy with worry.
“No need to wink and nod—I never intended to hide it,” Dr. Sven said with a sigh.
She first instructed the returning soldiers to resume their security posts around the barracks, then led the four of them to stand guard at the dungeon entrance until more reinforcements arrived. Only then did she speak in a low, somber voice:
“I saw him. He is my father.”
Huh?
The owner of Sven Farm—Old Sven, whose grief over his beloved daughter's death gave birth to this mystery relic ring—was the culprit behind it all?
The revelation was so staggering that Lynch stood stunned for a long moment. Yet, once he recovered and thought it through, it turned out to be surprisingly logical.
That was likely how real history had unfolded.
City Lord Jackson had always maintained a good relationship with the Sven family, so it was entirely plausible that he was manipulated by Old Sven.
Dr. Sven was his daughter; it would have been natural for her to inadvertently reveal details about the death-spreading ritual to Old Sven.
As a priest of his tribe, Old Sven was undoubtedly adept with all kinds of rituals, making his successful execution of this ceremony completely unastonishing.
Everything fit together seamlessly. In the end, Old Sven had orchestrated the entire plot through the City Lord.
In the timeline where Lynch didn't exist, several key events went undiscovered, causing the plague to spiral completely out of control and spread throughout the entire city. Everyone, including the City Lord, had likely ended up infected.
Meanwhile, the resolute Dr. Sven probably hadn't been infected. Yet, under her own insistence, every citizen—whether showing symptoms or not—was slaughtered. Upon discovering that her own father was responsible for this catastrophe, guilt must have consumed her. Thus, she chose to offer her own life as a funeral sacrifice for the eight thousand lives lost, bearing the weight of her father's sins.
In the end, apart from the ghoul who purified the city, the true perpetrator, Old Sven, was ironically the one who survived.
It was impossible to know what he had felt while holding his daughter's lifeless body, but his love for her was undeniably genuine. Otherwise, it wouldn't have birthed a mystery relic centered around him and Dr. Sven.
Looking at the somber female doctor before him, Lynch felt a surge of sympathy.
Things were manageable in this relic memory. But in actual history, after fighting desperately only to fail at containing the plague, and then discovering that the mastermind was her own father... what unimaginable despair she must have felt.
No wonder she chose death to end her suffering.
“Don't look at me like that. I can handle this,” Dr. Sven said with a weak smile. “As his daughter, I have an even greater duty to fix his mistakes and bring this plague under control. So don't worry about me. We will proceed as planned. I will continue formulating the medicine. Once it's ready tomorrow, we'll use his blood to track him down. I have to stop him.”
She really is a remarkable ghoul.
Lynch felt that thanks to her, his impression of ghouls had improved considerably.
He was about to offer a few words of comfort, but turning his head, he caught Officer Natalie staring at him with a strange expression. Lynch frowned. “What is it? Is there something on my face?”
Officer Natalie mimed touching her neck.
Lynch froze, reaching up to touch his neck. His hand came away with a smear of blood, revealing several faint scratches along his throat.
“Oh, it's nothing. I ran into Old Sven as he was fleeing, and we had a brief clash. He almost slit my throat, but I blocked it in time. His claws must have just grazed me. It's nothing serious—I didn't even notice until you mentioned it. A ghoul's claws really are...”
As he spoke, Lynch suddenly froze. His face turned pale as ash.
Not just him; everyone present wore looks of sheer horror.
Nothing serious?
Most of the infected locked inside had started out with "nothing serious" as well.
“It... it should be fine,” Miss Diana said, her face pale and her lips trembling. “You were scratched by Old Sven. He's not one of the infected—he's just a normal ghoul, just like Dr. Sven. He shouldn't be contagious, so he couldn't have infected you.”
Yet as she spoke, tears welled in her eyes.
“Heh... if he's the culprit, he must have been in constant contact with the source of infection,” Lynch muttered, pressing a palm to his forehead with a deep sigh. “No one can guarantee he isn't carrying the contagion.”
Officer Natalie chimed in, “True, but we can't be sure he is carrying it either. After all, he isn't infected himself.”
Lynch gave a bitter laugh and fell silent, his fingers resting against his neck. For a moment, a dead silence settled over the dungeon entrance, broken only by the faint, muffled roars of the infected echoing from below.
Rate on N.U.
