In a civilian house in Kurona.
A tall figure in a black robe was skillfully using magic to observe every move within the Kurona palace. Beneath the robe, a skeleton was revealed, barely held together by patches of rotting flesh, resembling a decayed corpse.
The black-robed figure was ingeniously observing the movements inside the Kurona palace. The restrictions and seals set up by the Lake Goddess' Prophets were cleverly bypassed, allowing a peek at the duel between the White Wolf Knight and the Holy Grail Knight.
However, that was the extent of it. The figure knew that if he delved deeper, the Lake Goddess' Holy Maiden and the Prophets guarding the palace would sense his presence.
His mastery of necromancy was beyond the comprehension and limits of mortal wizards. His magic, accumulated over thousands of years, could easily break the palace's defenses. Like most wizards, however, he wasn't adept at close combat. Trapped in an onslaught by the Holy Grail Knights, even he would struggle to escape.
"Ah, it's the First Chosen of the Green Pool and her Champion of the Chosen." A rotten fog exhaled from the black-robed figure's withered throat. Near him lay a corpse of a Bretonnian male noble, his face covered in cockroaches and flies.
"This is tricky. I can't confront the Lake Goddess' witch and the Champion of the Chosen simultaneously."
"I need a different approach." The figure pulled out a rotting parchment.
That day, in the headquarters of the Kurona Goddess of Mercy Church, a shocking discovery was made. While sorting through massive archives, a clerk stumbled upon a centuries-lost recipe for a cure to malaria.
...
In the internal courtyard of the Holy Grail Cathedral in Kurona.
The early spring flowers were in full bloom, thanks to the Lake Goddess' powers. The entire courtyard was a stunning display of floral beauty.
The Lake Goddess' witch, in a lace-bordered, solid-colored princess dress, gently touched an iris in bloom. "You did well, Ryan. You showed the knights across the hill our strength."
"My liege, it's my honor. But the kingdom can't always rely solely on me." Ryan, seemingly indifferent to the beauty around him, walked through the courtyard towards his assigned room.
"Aren't you satisfied with me arranging your stay here?" Morgana questioned, watching Ryan's retreating figure.
"To say I'm dissatisfied would be a lie. The living conditions here rival those of the king, with every service imaginable. I doubt even King Richard could arrange for two Lake Goddess Holy Maidens to attend to my living." Ryan turned, smiling at the beautiful Lake Goddess witch. "But to say I'm thrilled would also be false. I'd rather stay with Sir Francois and my maid."
"Both are lies. What's the truth then?" Morgana approached Ryan, her blue eyes piercing as if discerning truth from his words.
"It's a mix of satisfaction and dissatisfaction. I appreciate your treatment, but I earnestly hope, my liege, that you could loosen the reins a little. I'd be grateful." Ryan spoke half-jokingly.
Morgana, now standing in front of Ryan, placed a hand on his chest. "No, I can arrange whatever you need, but you must stay here for the time being."
"Alright, negotiation failed."
After parting with Morgana, Ryan opened the door to his luxurious suite. It wasn't late in the afternoon, and the suite had every conceivable amenity, except for the constant watch of two Lake Goddess Prophets, which irked him. They didn't restrict his freedom, but they followed his every move.
Moments later, Morgana, with some documents in hand, entered without knocking. "Ryan? I need to discuss something with you."
"Alright." Ryan, now in his noble attire, watched Morgana sit next to him. She switched her white soft boots for white stiletto heels, exposing her delicately stockinged feet. She placed a stack of documents before him. "Ryan, I've sent the Holy Grail Knights to retrieve the remains of the fallen and brought them back to the Holy Grail Cathedral for burial. However, several remains near Musilon have vanished."
"How many in total?" Ryan asked, looking at the map of Musilon.
"Twelve." Morgana's face was filled with disgust and anger. "Only in the cursed land, beyond the reach of both the Lady and us, could the Red Duke commit such abominable acts."
Just as the Lake Goddess mentioned, not even her divine power could breach Musilon's walls. Only in that cursed land could a necromancer desecrate the graves of the Holy Grail Knights and turn them into Black Holy Grail Knights.
"Even in such a cursed land, a necromancer capable of desecrating the graves of the Holy Grail Knights and transforming them must be unimaginably powerful. My liege, do you know what I'm thinking?" Ryan studied the map of the Duke of Connaught's land, indicating the cursed land's four remaining baronies and the accursed city of Musilon by the river. "It reminds me of the curse on you... and the attack you suffered."
Morgana's eyes sparkled, and she instinctively placed a hand on her abdomen, where Ryan had set a seal. "You mean..."
"I'm a warrior, not a schemer or a wizard, my liege. That's all I can think of." Ryan turned to find Morgana's exquisite face close to his. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"
"One more thing..." Morgana leaned against Ryan, whispering something into his ear.
"Understood." Ryan looked at Morgana with a half-smile. Seeing his agreement, Morgana stopped staring at him and immediately ordered the Lake Goddess Prophets. "Leave us. I have important matters to discuss with Ryan. Do not enter unless absolutely necessary."
"Yes," the prophets left.
...
As night fell, the bustling city of Kurona had no curfew. With the Knight's Tournament approaching, the city swelled with crowds.
The streets were filled with nobles discussing the upcoming tournament.
"Wow, the Knight's Tournament is about to start. I've been too excited to focus on work," a slightly overweight middle-aged man said.
"Yes, indeed! I wonder who has the best chance to win this year?" his equally excited companion chimed in.
"This year? Hmm, there aren't many outstanding knights. Only three are worth mentioning. I think the winner will be one of them."
"Who are they?"
"They are Sir Geoffrey from Anglerton, Count Reynaud from Gisoleaux, and Marchioness Sulia from Winfort. Among them, I favor Marchioness Sulia. She's the eldest daughter of Duke Francois of the Holy Grail Knights. She's been practicing swordsmanship, and equestrian skills since childhood. It's said her strength is on par with her brother Julius!"
"Julius, the champion of the last tournament?"
"Yes, which is why I believe she will be the victor of this year's tournament!"
Their conversation attracted much attention, and soon everyone on the street joined in.
However, some were preoccupied with other matters. The Archbishop of the Goddess of Mercy Church rushed through the streets with a group of followers, carrying precious herbs in several heavy carriages.
They needed to test immediately if the centuries-old malaria cure was still effective.
Lights blazed at the Goddess of Mercy headquarters. Guards and priests gathered to study the medicine. Countless precious herbs were delivered as everyone chanted the Goddess of Mercy, Salia's name, working urgently.
This could be the greatest discovery in centuries. If the cure proved effective, it could eradicate malaria, a plague that had troubled humanity for thousands of years, saving countless lives and altering human destiny!
During the tense experimentation, the precious ingredients were mixed into a green solution. The Archbishop, a benevolent middle-aged woman, led the efforts, barely containing her ecstasy: "Hurry! Hurry!"
Centuries ago, a priest of the Goddess of Mercy discovered a cure for malaria at an imperial sanatorium. However, before he could record the formula, the sanatorium mysteriously burned down, leaving only a few notes.
Now, the lost cure was resurfacing!
After the potion was made, it was immediately administered to a patient at the Goddess of Mercy's sanatorium on the outskirts of Kurona. After hours of purification and prayer, the patient's fever subsided, their spirits revived, and their appetite returned. Cheers erupted, and the priests knelt, praising the Goddess of Mercy for gifting the cure to mortals and contributing greatly to the world.
A monumental moment!
...
In the subspace, Chaos Realm, Eternal Realm, Nurgle's Garden, a haven of death and disease.
Hordes of furry flies buzzed in the sky, forming thick, dark swarms. Under the insect-ravaged canopy, decaying trees and clinging vines intertwined, covering the rotting ground. Fungal plants sprouted from the canopy, emitting choking spores. Semi-demonic plants swayed, not from the air's stagnant pressure. Bright red, blue, yellow, and purple flowers broke through the gloom, creating a paradise of joy in a dreary forest. Insects with bright patterns and shiny wings scurried and fluttered along the slow, murky riverbanks. Amid the rustling reeds, whispers spoke of plagues spread by the great Nurgle in the mortal realm; lamentations for those doomed by their creator.
Nurgle, the Chaos God of decay and disease, one of the Four Chaos Gods, was busy in his abode. The ancient yet sturdy mansion was covered in writhing poison vines and thick moss. Broken windows and shattered stones competed for space with rusted bronze artifacts.
Nurgle's bloated body, swollen with corruption, emitted unbearable stench. His green, necrotic skin was riddled with oozing sores, swollen boils, and parasites. Nurgle's pulsating organs were filled with rot, spewing from skin cracks, resembling repulsive fruits. Miniature Nurgles feasted and suckled on their grandparent's decaying intestines.
The god stirred a massive cauldron with a spoon larger than himself. With each stir, a new disease was born to devastate the mortal world.
Nurgle sampled his work, mumbling, "Not enough, not enough. Damn Isha, erasing my masterpieces. I need more, stronger plagues."
Nurgle's demons buzzed around, boasting about the potency of their latest creation and how many souls they could claim before the gods of order noticed.
Suddenly, Nurgle sensed something. "Humans... humans have discovered a new medicine, trying to cure one of my proudest creations."
"No!" Nurgle overturned his cauldron.
Countless demons surged into the boiling mixture, melting into a pulp. Still, more swarmed in from all directions.
"Go!" The cauldron tipped, spewing a yellow-green deluge towards the material realm.
"Primitive, civilization-denying mortals, enjoy my gift!"
"Destruction!"
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