Chapter 454: A Swift and Violent Plague

The Gagawaah Tavern, an establishment run primarily by Kobolds, had long been one of the most popular buildings in town. In the six-plus months since its founding, another floor had been added, turning it into a small, three-story building with two cellars below. This was a testament to just how booming its business was.

However, when Ron and the others arrived, their hearts couldn’t help but sink.

The place still seemed to be bustling, but... the people coming and going weren’t patrons and travelers.

Stretchers were being carried in and out, each bearing a resident of Delusional Land, groaning in constant pain.

"What’s going on here?" Ron hurried forward and stopped one of the stretchers. It was being carried by four Kobolds. The young man on the white sheet was gaunt and appeared to be unconscious with a high fever. Even so, he was apparently too heavy for two Kobolds to carry normally, forcing them to double their manpower.

"Move it! Move it! If you ain’t sick, don’t block the way! Go on, git!" The Kobold at the front was very unhappy with Ron’s actions and immediately began shouting in the Common Language with a strange accent. "We got Ice Men here!"

"Wait!" The other Kobold at the front looked up. He was startled when he got a clear look at Ron’s face and nudged his still-grumbling companion. "Look, it’s Lord Ron!"

"The Lord is back, gack!"

"Get the patient inside first," Ron said, stepping aside to let them pass. Victoria hurried forward, wanting to cast a Protective Magic spell on Ron.

"The rest of you go check the main hall. I don’t have enough magic to cast protection on everyone." The Priest furrowed her brow, looking at the rows of residents lying inside, not understanding what could have caused this.

"You go with them, too, but not to the main hall. Go to the Divine Hall and find Buni." Ron raised a hand, refusing Victoria’s Casting, and took out a series of medical supplies made with Magic—masks, gloves, and the like—from his alchemy bag. "I prepared a set for our whole team. All the patients are being brought here, so the Divine Hall must be overwhelmed, too. Go help them."

"As for Miss Anastina," Ron glanced at the Mercenary, "I’ll give you a map. Find a den outside of town and lie low there for a few days. It won’t be comfortable, but it’s for the best."

"I can help, too!" Having seen such a sight all the way here, how could Anastina possibly stand by and do nothing as Ron suggested? "Lord, don’t let my appearance fool you. I—"

"I know," Ron interrupted her. "But I don’t have enough medical supplies right now. If something were to happen to you..."

Saying it too harshly or too gently would be inappropriate. Ron decided not to continue, instead just cleaning himself up and putting on the medical gear before turning his worried gaze toward the crowd inside the tavern.

’So many people... This is most likely a contagious disease, no doubt about it. But... why has it gotten to this point?’

’Of course, New Green Swamp Town can’t compare to the medical and sanitary conditions of my past life, but it has its own unique advantages—the clergy who command Divine Magic. My territory isn’t some rigid fiefdom where the nobles and commoners are worlds apart. Common people can seek help from Priests or obtain Alchemy Potions. With all that, a normal epidemic should have been snuffed out quickly.’

’Why did it spiral out of control like this?’

"Lord, the Ice Man is all settled, ya!" The two Kobolds who had spoken to Ron earlier scurried out from inside. Seeing Ron’s fully geared-up appearance, they couldn’t help but look at each other. "My Lord, you shouldn’t go in, no!" "Don’t go in!"

"We’ve got a plague here!" "A plague!"

"Even lots of the Priests got sick!" "Got sick!"

"If you go down too, we’re totally done for!" "Done for!"

A strange expression appeared on Ron’s face, hidden behind his mask. He looked quizzically at the Kobold who kept repeating his companion’s words. "When did this plague break out?"

"Just... two days ago?" The two Kobolds exchanged glances, and one of them spoke up immediately.

"Three days ago!" the other corrected, though it didn’t seem sure either.

"The first one was on the street. Suddenly clutched his stomach and collapsed!" The Kobold gestured wildly, mimicking the situation as they’d heard it. "The weather’s been weird lately, too. All the snow’s melted clean away. Everyone said he drank some dirty snowmelt!"

Something clicked in Ron’s mind. They had just come from an area overgrown with spores and fungi; he’d forgotten that it was supposed to be winter outside. He had overlooked that detail.

’Did Green Swamp Town suddenly enter spring ahead of schedule? No, thinking back, we hadn’t seen a single patch of snow on the entire journey from the Old Banyan Tree to the town.’

’How strange.’

"At first, a few doc-doctors diagnosed him and prescribed a tincture. But before nightfall, those doctors were all on the ground, too! After that patient went home, his family and all his neighbors collapsed, too!"

The Kobold’s high-pitched, comical tone described a series of events that made Ron’s blood run cold. As someone from a similar profession, he had of course seen those doctors. They looked much like the doctors typically depicted in works about the Middle Ages—wearing heavy robes and overcoats, carrying leather cases and lanterns, and sporting pointed, bird-like masks with beaks stuffed full of herbs.

’It wasn’t very advanced, but in my opinion, it should have been enough. After all, they were just the first line of defense. The more versatile Divine Magic and Alchemy Potions should have plugged any gaps if they failed.’

’But looking at it now, didn’t they fall a little too quickly? At most, it’s only been three days! In this world, what kind of plague could instantly infect and incapacitate doctors who had just seen a patient? And they were the ones who were always somewhat prepared!’

’This is no ordinary plague. We have to hit it hard!’ Ron steeled himself and strode into the tavern. He cautiously approached each patient on their stretcher. The symptoms for most of them were similar to the man he’d seen earlier: a persistent high fever and the resulting dehydration, convulsions, and even unconsciousness.

"Forty-two degrees..." Ron pulled his gloved hand back from a patient’s forehead, feeling the searing heat. The temperature-reading Array on the glove activated, displaying a reading he could understand. ’If a fever this high continues, lack of oxygen and blood flow won’t be the main problem. The damage to the brain tissue, heart muscle, and liver will be the real killer.’

’But... is it because of the different species?’

Ron looked at the two nervous Kobolds trailing behind him, who seemed ready to hoist him onto a stretcher at any moment. "I’m a little curious," he said. "You two have been running back and forth this whole time. Are you alright?"