Our Family Has Fallen

Lance wasn't too surprised to hear this; he had deliberately driven the family into the northern wilderness to test the hidden threats there. And now it seemed that the wilderness was very unwelcoming to his presence…

"Notify everyone that fierce wild beasts have been discovered north of the labor farm, causing death and injury. Keep everyone away from there until the army completes the cleanup. At the same time, withdraw all the lumberjacks from that area and relocate them. If they encounter anything strange, do not approach it; report it immediately."

After giving the order, Lance headed toward a building in the town—which used to be a sanatorium, then a remodeled prison, and now, since Paracelsus's arrival, Lance had directly appropriated it for her research. In a way, it had come full circle, returning to a certain functional purpose.

Hamlet had few prisoners confined here because, compared to prison, Lance preferred reformation through labor. They had to create value; otherwise, who would provide a free meal? But some people couldn't atone through labor and could only be utilized for other purposes. Anyone locked up here had definitely been sentenced to death. Their current status wasn't "prisoner" but "test subject."

Upon reaching the third floor, he found the building remarkably spacious. With prisoners below, if it were someone else—let alone a woman, even a man—they wouldn't dare stay long, much less live here. But Paracelsus was tough. Ever since her return, she had stayed here constantly. If Lance hadn't arranged for regular food deliveries, she would probably have forgotten to eat. Of course, it was exactly this kind of dedication to research that he was looking for.

One room on the third floor was set up as a laboratory. On a table nearby, a complete set of Alchemy equipment—essentially chemistry apparatus—was placed. Paracelsus was hunched over, writing something, with a row of blue Potions of varying shades on the test tube rack in front of her.

"Did you make it?" Lance leaned over and asked.

"The Potions you gave me must have been diluted," Paracelsus said. "The Potion I restored is more potent than the sample you provided. Test Subject Number One became very excited after drinking it but soon turned anxious and irritable. The effect lasted for almost three hours and began to fade after five. At the seven-hour mark, exhaustion led to death. I dissected the test subject and found…"

She had a complete operational procedure, samples, and plenty of materials. If she couldn't figure it out, she wouldn't have been chosen.

Indeed, this brutal Potion was no simple matter, but what made his scalp tingle even more was Paracelsus herself. He'd thought he was cold-blooded and ruthless enough, but she was the truly merciless one. Surviving for seven hours was pretty tough already.

Noticing Lance's unusual reaction, she reached for a vial from the rack in front of her and handed it to him.

"You could try it."

"Thank you, but I don't need this," Lance refused her kind offer with a shake of his head.

Lance hadn't expected her to follow up with another remark.

"Really?" Paracelsus continued. "This dose has been diluted by me and also tested on Test Subject Number Two. The effect lasted only an hour. Although the test subject was very exhausted after the effect wore off, it hasn't died yet."

"Continue reducing, get the potency down to half an hour..." Lance began, then suddenly remembering the purpose of his visit, reluctantly changed the subject. "Put these matters aside for now. Come out with me."

"I am busy," Paracelsus refused naturally, placing the Potion back on the rack and picking up her pen again.

"I've found a very special corpse, which you will find interesting."

At these words, she paused and turned to look at Lance. After hesitating briefly, she got up.

"Where is it?"

"Bring your things—it might be dangerous."

Lance knew exactly what she wanted; a single sentence was all it took to persuade her...

In the wilderness adjacent to the farm, a strange corpse covered in yellow-white mushrooms lay on the ground. Paracelsus, dressed in her Plague Doctor gear, was examining the body. Indeed, such an odd corpse had truly sparked her research desire.

Lance, standing a short distance away with a handkerchief covering his nose and mouth, inspected the marks on the ground. This man wasn't Sam, but one of Sam's sons. But logically, if the whole family had gone in, how had only he managed to escape, even if unsuccessfully? He was eager to know what had happened.

"Can I take this back with me?" The muffled voice from within the Plague Doctor mask drew his attention back.

But he couldn't fulfill her request. What if this thing caused an outbreak in the town?

"No," Lance said. "This is a type of plague. I'll set up a tent nearby for you to conduct your research."

Hearing this, Paracelsus showed no strong reaction. She didn't mind the primitive conditions; being able to continue her research was all that mattered to her.

"The exact time of death is uncertain," Paracelsus reported, "but it can be confirmed that he has injuries caused by some kind of wild beast. Strangely, certain parts of his body contain no blood and show no signs of decay, while the muscles exhibit significant atrophy.

"It's foreseeable that without external interference, the body will likely become a dried corpse covered with mushrooms. I suggest waiting a few more days to observe other symptoms."

"Were the eyes black?" Lance suddenly asked.

"Yes, the eyes were completely black. The specific circumstances aren't clear yet; dissection is needed to find out more…" Paracelsus trailed off, somewhat surprised. She hadn't expected him to notice that detail.