"Have none of their symptoms improved?" Raven ordered the carriage to stop. He looked toward Madam Morgan's boutique; the doors remained tightly shut, exactly as they had been when he left.
"They are still suffering from severe cognitive dissonance," Miquella said. "The mental strain eventually manifests in the flesh. I can only do my best to delay the process. Let's go in together."
"Alright. There are people I know among the survivors," Raven nodded. The carriage rolled toward the camp, which was enclosed by a wooden palisade.
The camp had been erected in a square. The fence was reinforced with barbed wire at the top, maintaining a distance of over ten meters from the nearest houses. Entering through the gate, one could see the area partitioned into numerous cubicles by hanging cloth curtains. Physicians in white robes hurried between them, each followed by a squad of fully armed soldiers.
Every soldier appeared to be on high alert. As soon as Raven and his companions stepped off the carriage, the knight in charge of the camp hurried over to greet them.
"Prince Miquella, the condition of the infected has not improved. If you wish to proceed, please allow me to assign a squad of soldiers as your personal guard."
"It's quite alright; Raven will keep me safe," Miquella said with a smile. "Right, Raven?"
"Me?" Raven was slightly taken preference. "Yes, I'll stay right by your side."
"Additionally, Lady Malenia arrived earlier. She said she knew you would come and is waiting for you inside the camp," the knight said, bowing low.
"Sister is here too!" Miquella's eyes lit up, and he broke into a small run toward the camp. Raven quickly signaled Lansseax and Loretta to follow closely behind.
The curtain-partitioned camp was like a labyrinth. The ground was covered in a thick layer of sand, now heavily marked by the footprints of passing doctors and soldiers.
Eerie wails rose and fell across the square. Miquella's pace slowed, and he stopped before an open curtain, letting out a soft sigh.
A patient was bound to a wooden post, struggling incessantly. His wrists and ankles were raw and bloody from the friction of the hemp ropes. He was naked, his body covered in barnacle-like growths that sprouted in irregular patches.
Even with a cloth gag stuffed in his mouth, low growls—reminiscent of a wild beast—vibrated from deep within his throat.
A physician, wrapped head-to-toe in protective gear, was busy working on him with a small knife and pliers. He was cutting and prying the growths out, then tossing them into a brazier on the ground, where they popped and crackled in the flames. Two soldiers stood squeezed into the farthest corner of the cubicle, hands on their sword hilts, terrified of being splattered by blood.
"Prince Miquella." Seeing Miquella enter, the physician paused his work and bowed.
"Let me," Miquella said, walking toward the patient.
Upon seeing Miquella, the patient's eyes bulged. He thrashed violently like a dying fish, his chest heaving like a bellows. Just as the physician tried to intervene, the patient suddenly convulsed and went limp against the post. His neck slumped to the side, and his glazed, white eyes stared up at the sky veiled by the Erdtree.
The physician froze, stepping forward to check the patient's vitals, but Raven suddenly yanked him back. "Stay back!"
"Ah—"
A long, drawn-out exhale.
The cloth gag in the patient's mouth began to discolor and rot, eventually transforming into a bloated mass of fluffy, scarlet mycelium that spread from his lips to his cheeks.
With a sickening crack, he snapped his neck upright. His bloodshot, white eyes slowly turned toward Miquella. His face remained expressionless, but his lips—pulled taut by the fungal threads—began to open and close. He spoke with a bone-chilling sound, primitive and savage.
Black starlight swirled within Raven's eyes. He saw that it was no longer the patient speaking, but a twisted, rotting colossus of an entity. As if sensing his gaze, the patient's eyes shifted, locking onto Raven's.
Boom!
In an instant, Raven's vision pierced through the patient's shell, breaking through endless layers of rock to dive deep underground.
A scarlet lake... a grotesque, distorted temple... pale insect-like creatures kneeling in prayer... a pitch-black casket overgrown with mycelium—the imagery flashed through his mind and vanished. When Raven came to his senses, Miquella had already stepped forward, pressing his hand onto the patient's face.
"You have no power here!"
The patient's voice was utterly suppressed. Raven blinked, only then realizing that the clear, majestic shout had actually come from Miquella.
A radiance of pure gold erupted from Miquella's hand, enveloping the patient in light and plunging the surroundings into darkness. Standing before the patient, Miquella's form seemed indescribably tall and so beautiful it was blinding—terrifying yet sublime.
"You are nameless and formless, without shape or husk—get back to your Lake of Rot!"
When the light dissipated, the growths on the patient's body had completely vanished. He hung his head, unconscious. Miquella lowered his hand, and with a metaphorical whoosh, he seemed to shrink back into the young, golden-haired boy he was before.
"Is... is he cured?" the physician asked.
"They will grow back," Miquella shook his head. "However, if a Fire Monk performs the 'Flame, Cleanse Me' incantation on him regularly, it won't progress to that severity again for some time."
"King Consort Radagon took many Fire Monks with him to suppress the Mt. Gelmir rebels. The Fire Guardians must also monitor the Flame of Ruin; the monks we can spare are in incredibly short supply."
The physician hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Prince, if I may speak frankly, perhaps we should consider abandoning some of the commoners to prioritize the safety of the nobility—"
"I will speak with Mother about this and temporarily reduce the number of those monitoring the Flame," Miquella interrupted, a rare occurrence for him. "You only need to hold out for a month or two. By then, the influence of the Rot will have vanished entirely."
"I understand." The physician bowed and took his leave, followed by the two soldiers who gave a salute before exiting.
"The benevolence of Unalloyed Gold... I heard of your reputation even when I was in Caria," Raven said, looking at Miquella with some surprise. He hadn't expected to find such a genuine soul among the high-ranking members of the Golden Order. "People love you for more than just your power of enchantment, Prince Miquella."
"It is merely what I ought to do." Miquella shook his head, his expression complicated.
"That was the will of the Goddess of Rot just now, wasn't it? It seemed to be saying something to you?"
"You could hear that voice?"
"It was so loud, it would be hard not to hear it." Raven found Miquella's reaction odd. "But your voice still managed to drown it out."
"Ah, if it's you, then yes, you would be able to hear it." Miquella suddenly smiled. "Others cannot."
"Lansseax, Loretta, did you two not hear it?"
"I only saw his mouth moving. I thought you were lip-reading," Lansseax said. Loretta shook her head in agreement.
Miquella tugged on Raven's sleeve, signaling him to lean down. He stood on his tiptoes and leaned close to Raven's ear. "When the time comes to crusade against the Goddess of Rot, please lend us a bit more of your strength... Empyrean Raven."
Raven stiffened slightly.
"Hey, hey! No whispering in front of me," Lansseax shouted.
"It's nothing." Executing a 'Wild Strikes' technique mentally to confirm no one but Lansseax and Loretta were nearby, Raven shrugged. "Miquella knows I hold an Order."
"Oh? Carian Royal Knights aside..." The mischievous smile vanished from Miquella's face. "You really do trust this little female dragon, don't you?"
"Are you looking for a fight, Goldie?" Lansseax raised a threatening fist and stepped closer.
"Malenia!" Miquella waved and called out. As Lansseax turned to look, he ducked down and slipped right past her.
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Elden Ring: The Unborn One's Journey Through Elden Ring(182 Chapter - Ongoing)
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