Our Family Has Fallen

The trap the Witch had set on the book triggered, unleashing pathogens into the air potent enough to kill any intruder a hundred times over.

Even Grendel, who had just demonstrated exceptional resistance, couldn't help but cough softly, fumbling in her pocket for some unknown Potion to swallow.

On the other hand, Lance felt nothing at all.

Is this it?

Joy!

The sensation of cheating is truly exhilarating.

Lance merely glanced at the human skin book before closing it. Its contents were not suitable for viewing at that moment, especially with another person present.

Grendel's attention was distracted by the pathogens. By the time she reacted, Lance had already stowed the book away. She said nothing more, silently watching him rummage through the cabin.

Whether he recognized the items or not, Lance's principle had always been: "It's all mine!"—complete with the mental image of a triumphant, clenched fist.

Lance used a torch to ignite the wooden furniture inside. Soon, dry tinder and fierce flames caused the fire to swell, consuming the cabin.

Everything fell silent beneath the flames.

After nonchalantly tossing the torch into the fire, Lance stepped out of the house.

Turning around to face the rising sun, Lance murmured in realization, "Dawn has come~"

Grendel instinctively glanced toward the sunrise as well. The first ray of morning light on her face greatly alleviated the stress that had accumulated in her heart.

Has dawn broken…

With the Wilderness Witch killed, their mission for this trip was accomplished. The group quickly packed up and began the journey back.

Grendel realized Lance wouldn't reveal any useful information until after he had treated the patients. Therefore, she showed no intention of communicating and just silently trudged along with the group.

Lance, for his part, was in no rush. Knowing her identity was enough for him to handle the situation.

Traveling in silence, the group made no stops for rest. Thanks to their prior exploration, there was no need to find the way; the best route had already been mapped out. By noon, the squad had returned to Hamlet.

"Look at this land," Lance said, pointing to the site of the previous battle. "Back then, the enemy led a horde of plague-carrying beasts in an attack. The soldiers resisted all the way and finally set fire to the farms, using a fire attack to exterminate those creatures."

"But look, this once fertile land is now contaminated…" Lance continued to describe the havoc wreaked by the plague, and his words indeed captured her attention.

Grendel stared at the charred remains of the farm, now a ruin. She had been imprisoned by the Witch, who had told her many things.

This included the plan for the Corrupting Plague: to spread it via ritual sites, then cultivate a host of parasitic creatures to attack towns.

From the Witch, she knew of the terrifying size of the plague army. She hadn't expected them to be stopped here and could hardly imagine what the battle must have been like.

Grendel grew curious about the town of Hamlet…

Crossing the farms to enter the town, Grendel had braced herself for a place ravaged by the plague, reeking of death.

However, once inside, she found the town surprisingly calm. While most people appeared slightly anxious and worried, they were not in a state of despair.

Furthermore, when these people saw the man named Lance, hope sparked in their expressions. They would respectfully greet him with, "My Lord."

And Lord Lance would simply nod in acknowledgment.

At that moment, Grendel understood why he had offered such a sum of money and why he cared so much for the patients.

However, the Hamlet she had heard about from the Witch was quite different, and so was its local lord…

"Reynard, there's a risk of infection at the camp, so you and the others shouldn't go there. Go home and rest well," Lance instructed briefly, not lingering. He then took Grendel to the temporary medical camp set up on the outskirts, explaining, "I've quarantined all the patients together to limit the spread of the plague."

Tents had been pitched one after another, enclosed by a makeshift fence covered with burlap. Outside the camp were several large cauldrons. However, they weren't being used to cook herbs or food; rather, clothes and tools were being boiled in them.

Other cauldrons held clear water, with some people busy tending fires beneath them.

"This is for disinfection. Everything that has had contact with the patients is boiled to eliminate any pathogen remnants and prevent bacterial infections," Lance explained. However, most of these unique terms were beyond Grendel's comprehension. Their arrival, though, did catch the attention of those waiting outside the camp.

"Milord!"

"Milord, how is my child?"

"Milord, please let me see him one last time…"

"..."

A flood of pleas instantly overwhelmed the two of them, as the people surged forward, blocking their path.

These were likely family members who had come to help during their midday break. Their worried expressions and sorrowful faces were evident; some were silently choking back sobs, their faces marked by fresh tear tracks.

They clearly understood what a plague infection meant in this era. Seemingly convinced their children were doomed, they dared not ask the Lord for much; they only yearned to see their loved ones one last time.

Lance understood this. He showed no impatience, instead raising a hand to reassure them.

"Don't worry. I'm here to promise you that we will do everything in our power to treat them. I will personally cover all subsequent recuperation costs. They are heroes! I will not abandon any warrior who defended Hamlet."