In a second-class area on a train.

Althur was sitting across from Brahms, who was fast asleep in a comfortable leather chair.

The two departed the capital city at around 7 p.m., when he arranged some business with Robert. Then bought two second-class train tickets to Calico. Trips to Calico are popular, so it shouldn't be hard to buy two tickets. The train has departed for a few hours. Currently, there is still one more day to reach the destination.

Brahms had been on the train twice, so he maintained his silence until he fell asleep.

It's midnight now, and looking at Brahms sleeping, Althur looks a little more relieved. He was still like that restless, not knowing whether to open or close his eyes. He looked at the faint moonlight hidden by dark clouds. It makes the shadows outside the window seem thick. Steam mixed with coal dust closed the outside glass; it was difficult for people inside to see further as if look through the future.

...

A hazy black silhouette appeared. He does nothing, but his existence causes everything around him to be affected by him. Around him are whispering sounds that evoke the most vulgar things in human nature, making us feel like we are going through endless plagues. The atmosphere became oppressive, as if the land that no man passed through and where no man dwelt.

"What will you offer?"

"Chaotic."

"When She woke up, what did She say?" A whisper from the altar. The contagious disease does not seem to be spread in the air, but it follows the sound and spreads to the soul of the listener, making the strongest also weak because of that aura.

"Exitus Caeli". Everyone answered in unison. The madmen marched madly, rolling around in the dark, stinking, and filthy cellars. Everything around me became silent, as if waiting for judgment.

"Frial." A small whisper came again from the shadowy figure on the altar. Along with that was a blurry image of a woman, who seemed to be seriously ill, leaning over in a chair, all of which was fleeting enough that the three of them were the only ones paying attention.

When the whisper was over, the three mysterious men closest to the altar seemed to know what was to come. They shivered to the marrow of their bones. Even the one in the middle felt as if he were catching a plague brought on by filthy rats. He felt weak.

Even a strong man like him felt that way, and the fanatics behind him couldn't be forgiven.

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Under the dim black light emanating from the altar, an amazing scene unfolded. Fanatics, they began to scratch each other, their fingers digging into their flesh as if they had gone mad.

While others seemed to suffer a black death, they vomited blood and were filled with filthy fluids. Until all the normal people in the room turned into incomplete corpses, a pile of viscous and sickly liquid They suddenly became black mist and flowed into the altar.

"The plague will weaken the divine perception enough that the heathens will not notice." The sound was creepy enough to scare off the rats in the filthy sewers.

"Go and announce. Our Goddess is back. The Only and True One."

"Yes."

"Astrum, Esuritio, Salve."

"Astrum, Esuritio, Salve."

After that, the altar returned to normal. Everything went quiet, as if nothing had happened.

"I have never felt so weak as I do now." A female voice came out passionately.

"Because under the grace of the Goddess, our strength will become perfect in weakness."

"Do as you planned. They can't wage a war now. There are signs of death; the Goddess has awakened."

"Let's go. Don't waste any more time."

"Save this fake world."

"Go and tell them their savior has appeared again."

"There will be war. Don't they like war the most?"

"They will get what they want."

"Then let the carnage begin!"

They believed that by spilling their blood, they would awaken their goddess from her slumber and herald her glorious return.

The raucous laughter gradually subsided until the room was devoid of any sign of life. Instead, airborne pathogens gradually spread, slowly and invisibly. No one knows what will happen, but then a plague will sweep through that miserable land.

...

Inside the royal palace's warehouse, a few clattering but rhythmic noises resounded when they seemed to be about to reach the hook, then suddenly stopped as if interrupted by someone.

Looking inside, there was a man's head that fell to the ground as a dark figure appeared. The frightened woman wanted to run and scream, but her ragged clothes tripped her. A smooth hand slowly reached and lifted the woman's chin. A weak voice escaped: "Don't worry, you'll be next."

The woman who witnessed the scene was so frightened that she fainted. The woman did not pay much attention.

It was surprising that no alarms were generated, as if every warning had been weakened like a disease; no premonition or agitation appeared, as if the weak woman was just a little mouse that sneaked into the palace.

She quickly burned down the warehouse and spread the plague everywhere.

"Go, my friends, let them feel their weakness; let them know the inevitable. Illness is the best companion." She indulged and released an endless horde of rats from her mouth. Dirty and disgusting mice.

In the path of the rats, they were filled with feces and plague—black bands of liquid that were frantically sucking the life force of the creatures around them. The grass began to wither and yellow, and the soil gradually became wet and lacked a source of life. The surrounding water is polluted and becomes toxic.

When the fire started, it spread and burned down the warehouse. The night surrounding it disappeared. Let those who need to know. She disappeared mysteriously quickly, the way she had appeared at the warehouse in the first place.

"This is easy. Those idiots think I'm too weak for the main quest. It's stupid. They want to think that way because I let them think so."

"How can I continue to receive grace until my life is gone?"

"To think those hypocrites think we're really targeting them is stupid." The woman laughs loudly. "They won't learn anything from their previous lessons. Illness is inevitable."