Elden: Ring of Calamity

Chapter 360 Disaster
The Rodel people always seem to like to bury the dirty things they don't want to see, Chapolili thought.

This is a bad omen, and it is also true for epilepsy.

It seemed that as long as those monsters with horns all over their bodies and corpses with burnt eyes were thrown into the ground, the world would be clean. Bathed in the light of the golden tree, Rodel would still be the sacred city that was not tainted by dust.

Fuck the Holy City!
He stood on the platform above the pulpit of the Fifth Church of Marika, his eyes cast towards the crowded and chaotic hall, and he tightly covered his mouth and nose under the mask with a handkerchief, trying to block out the burnt stench that was coming towards him, but it was all in vain.

Following his gaze, he saw as many as a hundred doctors and golden priests moving like worker ants among the densely packed stretchers and camp beds. Even more patients were lying there with their hands and feet tied, with terrifying flames spewing from their pupils and screaming miserably.

Fifty city defense soldiers were standing by with carts in hand in the aisles on both sides. Whenever a doctor in a bunk raised his arm, a soldier would push the cart forward indifferently, untie the corpse that had given up struggling, throw it on the cart, and transport it out.

There are two underground wells three hundred meters away from the back door of the church, so there is no need to worry about the pile of corpses. It is no wonder that these soldiers are too ruthless. After all, they have been doing this for a whole day and night.

State hospitals, private hospitals, and even large and small medical clinics and clinics have long been filled with patients, and now even most churches in the city have become emergency treatment sites. All doctors, priests, and perfumers within the sub-altar have been mobilized, but this sudden outbreak of the plague has not shown any signs of being contained.

The weak and crazy flame was like an out-of-control devil, devouring the lives of countless Rodel people every minute and every second.

"Is that Lord Viscount Chapolili?" A questioning voice came from behind through the mask cloth.

Chapolili turned around and looked, frowned and blinked, and after a few seconds he asked tentatively: "Mrs. Winkton?"

He had a very deep impression of the woman in front of him - a few years ago, after Viscount Winkton unfortunately passed away, Lady Winkton, who inherited her late husband's title, was the flower that many young nobles in the capital flocked to. It was not until she announced her conversion to the Marica Church and devoted the rest of her life to serving the Eternal Queen and the faith of the Golden Tree that those fanatical suitors finally calmed down.

But it is hard to associate the disheveled woman in front of him, wrapped in a bulky protective gown, with a mask covering most of her face soaked with sweat and smelling of disinfectant, with the famous and beautiful widow of that year.

It's probably like the distance between the former golden holy city and the city of disaster today.

"There is no lady here," Lady Winkton nodded calmly, as if to greet her. "Perhaps my dishevelled appearance frightened you, but as you can see, the sufferings those patients are suffering are obviously much more serious."

Xia Bolili lowered his eyes and whispered: "May they rest in peace deep in the roots of the golden tree."

The two did not continue discussing this topic, because they both understood that the victims would not return to the trees, but would be thrown into wells in large numbers and then burned to ashes in the pouring kerosene.

"Since last night, we have been responsible for treating 2,238 patients here, of whom 19 have been cured, 266 have been cured, 860 have been cured but not yet worsened, and the rest have unfortunately died."

"According to detailed statistics and control group experiments, most healing magic is harmful to epilepsy, and the new fundamentalist prayers can even directly cause fatal emergencies. Currently, only a few prayers from Her Majesty the Queen and two new prayers from Her Highness Michaela can temporarily alleviate the condition. If supplemented with the best incense and medicine, and if the patient's symptoms are not severe and his or her physique is strong, there is about a 5% chance of survival."

"It is worth mentioning that we have just received a notification from the Ancient Dragon Temple. Due to some unknown factors, the effect of their ancient dragon prayer treatment is much better than ours. I have sent other priests of the church to the Storm District to understand the situation. We hope that the golden priests will be responsible for stabilizing the condition of the mildly ill patients there for the time being. Please ask the ancient dragon priests to withdraw their hands and help us suppress the death toll of the seriously ill patients, even if the dynasty must pay a certain price for it." Xia Bolili was stunned, looked into the other party's eyes and said, "Madam, can you confirm that the ancient dragon series of treatments is more effective than our magic?"

"Data won't lie," Viscount Winkton said as she took a document from her assistant and handed it to Chapolili. "We have already recorded all the details. Please, Viscount, present the information to Her Majesty Marika as soon as possible. I have to go down and continue the treatment, so I'm sorry I can't send her off."

The report ended too quickly. Chapolili stared at the manuscript in his hand hesitantly, flipping through two pages, which were filled with a lot of difficult-to-understand terms and data.

"It's definitely not something I can understand—" He shook his head, as if to throw away the many "disrespectful" thoughts that had just arisen in his mind, and turned around and left the church with his entourage.

"The new fundamentalist prayer has the worst healing effect, the prayers of Her Majesty Marica and Her Highness Michaela are slightly better, and the ancient dragon prayer is the best." Chapolili kept muttering on the way. Even though he tried hard to suppress it, some absurd and even terrifying conjectures emerged more and more clearly in his mind.

He never believed in the claim that foreign caravans caused a large-scale plague. With Rodel's population of nearly 10 million and the average physique of the people bathed in the light of the golden tree all year round, it would be impossible for an epidemic of this scale to suddenly break out under the influence of external forces unless there was something wrong with the city itself.

The blessed land protected by the law and the family beloved by the gods are never just talk.

In the past, the continent had experienced several large-scale epidemics that were mostly unable to infect Asia, let alone wreak havoc in the capital. The last time such a disaster caused panic among the people was when a bad omen was born. A bad omen.
Xiapolili raised his eyes and looked at the giant golden tree in the center of the sky that connected the sky to the earth. The gentle and grand golden light still spread throughout every inch of this sacred city, illuminating the people under the protection of the supreme will.

He exhaled deeply, and his lungs felt like they were being squeezed by the icy water in a deep pool. He always had a palpitation and couldn't breathe. No matter how he struggled, it was always useless.

A rare hint of deep anxiety appeared in those eyes that were usually filled with flattery and obedience. Xia Bolili couldn't help but recall that nineteen years ago, when he was still a half-grown child wearing a waiter's clothes, he used all his strength to resist the gate of the Golden Temple.

On the other side of the palace gates was an angry mob of thousands of people in Rodel, demanding an explanation from the queen for giving birth to two ill-omen princes.

Just when his arm was about to be dislocated by the door and his whole body was almost exhausted, a large hand patted his shoulder.

Then the figure pushed open the palace gate with one hand and blocked the mob with his back as broad as a mountain. He allowed them to attack and curse, and even ignored the beatings from the insane. Only his tattered battle robe fluttered in the wind, seemingly gentle, but more reassuring than the strongest barrier.

That was their king, the unbreakable barrier of the dynasty in the past.

If the king were still here, what would he do?
Xiapolili could not have imagined it, because the king would never stay within the conventional thinking of the world. He would always walk on the front line that was farther and more dangerous than all the soldiers, wielding the king's axe to open up the journey of mortals.

But he still remembered what the king would want him to do if he were still here.

"Hurry, rush back to the Palace of Eternity as quickly as possible - I want to meet Her Majesty the Queen!"

(End of this chapter)