"Thank you for your help, Ms. Marian."
Before even hearing Haida's thanks, Marian had already hurriedly left to attend to the busy affairs of the Medical Department.
She had used her own rest time to bring Haida to see Viola, only to end up taking a distant glance and then being barraged with questions for a good while.
Her already overwhelming workload now teetered even more precariously on the brink...
The younger Marian clearly wasn't as steady and mature as she would later become. But precisely because she and Haida were now "peers," there was less of the barrier brought by the passage of long years between them.
Seeing Marian leave, Haida also let out a slight sigh of relief.
Although the first-category ritual Oracle's Mouth had incidentally confirmed Haida's identity as a Secrets-Hunter during the inspection, so Marian never doubted her from start to finish... in reality, she was genuinely an undocumented person.
If she truly went to the Burial Court to claim supplies, she'd probably only be able to produce her identification from twenty years in the future to hand over... that scene would be a bit too comical.
After waiting a moment, confirming Marian had completely left, Haida led Flamel into the somewhat crowded medical station.
This place was full of various patients, mostly early-stage patients who had been cured of "Lytic Disease" but whose bodies had not yet fully recovered. Those at mid-stage and beyond were under isolation and strict control.
And just then, she saw an unexpected figure... it was Viola.
Dark circles faintly shadowed her eyes. Though a gentle smile still graced her lips, her face was pale and weary.
The scales of life and death, with time as the weight balancing both ends. Viola was unwilling to waste any bit of time that could be utilized... even if it meant saving one more person, it was meaningful.
Once her psychic sense and spirit recovered enough to maintain action, she once again began this clinical treatment work that only she could complete.
"Doctor Viola, I guess I'm going to die, huh? Cough, cough, maybe you should just leave me be, let me crack open a couple of bottles and drink my fill... when I'm about to die, just toss me out from the cult's side..."
A man lying on a simple cot weakly joked with her.
Viola, however, quite seriously admonished this not-so-serious fellow.
"Don't talk nonsense, Uncle Moloch. Your symptoms are only early-stage... though there will be strong discomfort after 'osmosis therapy,' you'll recover quickly. You will get better."
"Alright, alright, I get it."
Seeing Viola seemed a bit upset, Moloch lightly raised a hand in surrender.
Though he craved a drink, he didn't truly want to die. He just wanted to ease this doctor's exhausted and strained emotions a bit.
She then moved to other patients, checking their recovery one by one.
Haida simply observed quietly. Simultaneously, she once again felt that eerie sense of agitation arising from within. Flamel beside her also felt somewhat uneasy, reaching out to tug at the hem of the sister's robe.
Now was the most severe period of the Great Plague, but in Norlington's true history, it would also end at this moment. What was it that caused "Lytic Disease," which had almost reached its peak, to abruptly cease?
Would it be Dr. Fran? But if it were her, how did Viola die? And how did this plague last for two full years?
...
The periphery of the Secrets-Hunter headquarters, the Unblemished Land.
Somehow, those patients afflicted with the plague who had been prostrate on the ground stood up.
They slowly shifted their decaying flesh, which had become fungal beds, embracing one another. Pitch-black eye sockets streamed with slime-like fluid, as if weeping for joy.
Someone began opening their mouth, starting a chant-like singing, even though their vocal cords and throat had long since festered away.
Song after song rose incessantly, like the faint chirping of insects after a spring thunderstorm.
"Midsummer, dawn, season of joyous proliferation."
"Dead serfs, living husks, raise voices in unison for the rite."
"Thriving, transforming, never a moment's cease!"
"Lush rotting bones, piling their frail frames. Towering living folk, forming its lofty crown. Welcoming your sovereign arrival, what an honor indeed..."
The chaotic chants intertwined, and those dead bodies borne along by spores also began to fuse tightly together. Within mere breaths, a horrifying colossus composed of corpses and the living had manifested.
It slowly ground its way over the streets. Any remaining unincorporated infected individuals nearby, upon its approach, would be absorbed into its body. If they constituted the giant's body, they turned into silent bones; if they constituted the crown...
They would be granted life again, writhing in panic and despair until only pure happiness remained in their expressions.
"Lytic Disease" was a terrifying malady. Simultaneously, it was also the Withered Crown cult's first-category ritual [Coronation Rite]. It could summon the avatar of that deity from the astral plane and the void...
Not an "apostle," or a "servant," but the true avatar of a deity.
There were no Withered Crown deacons or high priests within Norlington. Because when the plague began spreading, they had already offered their bodies, becoming the sacrificial materials constituting the ritual.
The astral disturbance caused by a first-category ritual could never be concealed. Even though it was still some distance from the Secrets-Hunter headquarters, its presence was already glaringly obvious... but at the same time, it had no need whatsoever to hide itself.
Grantham, far away at Norlington Central Academy, removed his pipe and let out a deep sigh.
Before the sandalwood-carved conference table, a group of White Cup professors wearing the Error-Purgers' holy emblem turned their gaze towards Grantham at the head seat.
Terence spoke with a grave expression.
"Headmaster, aren't we going to assist the hunters? If that place falls, our fates won't be much different either."
"I have already authorized artillery bombardment. The block where that thing appeared is currently under saturation fire bombardment coverage."
Grantham looked unchanged, his face still as aged. At this moment, holding a long-stemmed pipe made of briar root, he straightened his pointed hat, which had been knocked askew by the booming artillery fire.
"That likely won't have much effect on 'It'..." Terence gritted his teeth slightly.
"Terence."
Grantham lifted his profound eyes, seemingly glancing at him with an air of casual indifference.
"Merely witnessing that thing would drive us mad. How then could we stop it? The final research is not yet complete... perhaps we should leave this place."
"Why flee? It's not only the Withered Crown cult that possesses first-category rituals!"
Terence slammed both hands on the table, arguing unwillingly.
"Ah..."
Grantham rubbed the wrinkles between his brows and let out a sigh.
"Since the White Cup ancestors perished in the Lost Age, since the beginning of this millennium up to now, the Great Pioneer has never responded to any call. Our revered pioneer, who was bestowed with the wrong divine name... is probably truly asleep..."
"Flight is not shameful. Survival is always the primary imperative of a race."
...
Haida's psychic sense had long since recovered, so she naturally detected something descending from the intense astral disturbances long ago.
Vast, malignant, and familiar... it was that towering colossus that had wandered the streets of Silent Hill.
Simultaneously, she realized the surrounding scene was beginning to grow blurry and illusory.
Probably the manifestation of the deity's phantom was making this memory unstable.
However, it seemed because the most important person had not yet arrived, this "memory" didn't directly collapse... but it was nearing its end, like a crossbow at the limit of its tension.
Viola slowly stepped out of the aid station, walking towards the area outside the Unblemished Land of the Secrets-Hunter headquarters.
Her expression was as soft and calm as usual, showing no surprise or astonishment, as if she had long anticipated this situation.
"For two years, Teacher Flamel has not appeared again. Perhaps there's no chance to bid her farewell..."
"I hope she merely left Norlington and is safe and well."
"And Ahern... will he hate me when he wakes up? My wish for him to survive alone... was it too selfish?"
Whispering softly, golden-red flames blazed brightly upon the "Medicae Primus's" white simple robe.
Though the curling sparks did not scorch her body, her already weakened life force was also rapidly depleting... turning into flecks of ash peeling away from her garments.
Middle-rank first-category secret art [Cinder Incarnation].
The colossus adorned with a living bone crown slowly and majestically approached, gradually, its figure becoming clearly visible.
Somehow, Viola had already arrived before the avatar of the Withered Crown.
As she lightly clasped her hands, a bright, clear hemispherical domain centered on her suddenly expanded, enveloping everything within sight.
But perhaps because the user was burning her life so intensely, even those scattered glimmers became dazzling and searing.
Haida momentarily narrowed her eyes.
She was all too familiar with this: it was Drive Away Dust and Filth... just never on such a scale.
Under the blazing light, this diorama constructed by memories finally collapsed.
But in the final instant, Haida faintly caught a whiff of a faint, cool scent. Faint, serene, carrying a hint of damp chill, like morning mist.
...
Almost the moment they returned to Silent Hill from the third building, Haida heard a blaring sound erupt from the sky.
Shrill, grating, nearly deafening—it was the alarm that had previously caused Fran to disappear.
Only this time, the gloomy sky began gradually shedding its deep black, replaced by a pale glimmer.
Corpses and rusted iron mesh contracted as if alive, retreating completely into the shadows.
In an instant, this place reverted to that quiet, desolate town; all previous scenes seemed like a nightmare from which one had abruptly awoken.
Just then, a somewhat languid female voice sounded by Haida's ear, as she was still somewhat dazed.
"Dear Sister Haida, you can stop holding me now; it's rather embarrassing. The paralysis from the adaptation period of the spine 'Sphinx' has healed, and besides..."
Fran, currently in Haida's arms, let out a light sigh, then raised an eyebrow nimbly.
"I don't have any wounds on my legs now, you know?"
—
"Dr. Fran?"
Only now did Haida notice that the person she was holding was no longer the girl in tattered straitjacket, but Dr. Fran in her white lab coat.
No wonder the feel in her arms had become somewhat heavier...
After confirming the other had indeed regained mobility, the sister set her down.
Fran stood steadily, taking some time to adapt to the sensation of regaining control of her body.
Though the aftereffects of paralysis would leave some bodily discomfort, now that the chimera spine "Sphinx" had begun working, she wouldn't trip over flat ground while walking.
"Ah~ Tough times at the year's end indeed. The last house call of every quarter isn't just difficult; there's also the risk of privacy invasion..."
Sighing, she gave a slight wave of her hand, retracting the Hand Reaches the Moon chain connecting her and Haida back to her own wrist.
"Haida, feeling confused? ...I guess you already have part of the answer, but now you need me to fill in some details."
"Mhm, if Dr. Fran is willing to tell me."
Haida looked at this firsthand witness of the Great Plague. Many questions swirled in her heart, but she didn't know where to start.
After brief thought, the sister chose to inquire about the alarm that had plunged the entire town into a nightmare abyss... Although she very much wanted to know the old history of the Great Plague, that probably wouldn't help the current situation.
After all, Dr. Fran might still revert to Flamel if the blaring alarm sounded again.
Solving the immediate predicament was the most pressing matter.
"Why does this town become like hell after that alarm sounds?"
"And also... How did you, Dr. Fran, turn into the form of a little girl?"
Fran blinked nimbly, seeming quite satisfied with her questioning attitude. The past could be discussed later; handling the problem at hand was the priority...
"Silent Hill has two worlds: the surface and the reverse. After the alarm sounds, this town switches from the 'surface,' which is closer to reality, to the 'reverse,' which is like hell."
"The 'reverse' world is constructed from the darkness within the intruder's psyche. Hatred, regret, desire... therefore it manifests in the most twisted state."
Recalling the corpses wandering in the lightless depths and the rusted iron mesh everywhere, Haida nodded with deep understanding.
"But besides the dense darkness, it also manifests other things. For example, old memories, or the wish to save others..."
"'Flamel' is a part of my past self, and also the 'manifestation' of that wish."
This differed little from her own assumptions... Hearing this long-conjectured answer from Fran herself, the slightly taut string in Haida's heart couldn't help but relax a little.
Thinking of this, she thought of a very important question.
"When you were 'Flamel,' did Dr. Fran still retain self-awareness?"
+++
T/N: Hey readers~! New Translator here! Before I say anything, I'd first like to thank the original author for creating this wonderful story. Without them, I wouldn't have the chance to share this adventure with you. I hope my translation does justice to their work, and that together, we can enjoy this story.
With that said, I'm happy to let you know I'll be uploading daily chapters. And for those who wish to support my work and gain early access, I've set up a Patreon where advanced chapters will be available.
[email protected]/PeakTLq